Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The silence on Malachor wasn’t just the absence of sound. It was dense—oppressive—as if the whole planet had taken a deep breath and never exhaled. The air itself trembled under the weight of long-forgotten pain and power that once flowed here—wild and unchecked. The temple, buried deep in the cracked surface of the land, looked less like a place of worship and more like a tomb—massive, broken, left to rot. Its walls had been torn open by the explosion from their last visit, revealing new passageways, hidden hollows, and dark corridors that hadn’t felt footsteps in ages.

Ezra stood at the edge of a wide fissure, staring down into the gloom where light and shadow twisted together. In his hands, he held the holocron—the same one that had once nearly destroyed everything he believed in. And yet, it had brought him back here.

Back on Atollon, he’d had a vision—blurry, fragmented, but powerful. The temple was calling to him. He heard a voice—female, desperate, urgent. At first, he’d believed it was her. That somehow, Ahsoka had survived and hidden herself away. But deep down… he knew it wasn’t her. The voice wasn’t quite right. And still—it pulled him back. Something—or someone—was waiting. And if it wasn’t Ahsoka, then maybe it was something just as important.

Now, standing again at the temple’s entrance, he clenched his jaw. The vision had shown him something buried deep within the structure.

Kanan stepped up beside him, voice low. “You still think this was a good idea?”

Ezra didn’t look away. “I don’t know. But something’s down there. Something important. I can feel it.”

Sabine picked her way down the rubble behind them, moving carefully. “That explosion opened up whole sections of the temple that were sealed off before. According to my scans, there’s a massive labyrinth underneath.”

“Visions aren’t always what they seem,” Kanan warned. “And this place is a trap. We barely made it out last time.”

But Ezra didn’t move. The Force stirred around him—thick, almost tangible. It wasn’t hostile—but it wasn’t calm, either.

“Maybe,” he said quietly. “But what if it really is Ahsoka? We can’t just leave her behind.”

Their footsteps echoed faintly through the temple, muffled by the thick layer of dust and ash that blanketed the stone floor forgotten shroud. Crumbling pillars lined the main hall, some half-collapsed, others split by fresh cracks—some thin as knives, others wide enough for a person to slip through. Something radiated from one such opening. Not warmth, not cold. Something else… a presence.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Sabine muttered, running her scanner over the opening. “It’s deeper than it looks. There’s something down there. Something… big.”

Ezra drew a steady breath, then jumped first. He landed lightly, soundlessly, as if he didn’t dare disturb the tomb-like quiet. Kanan followed close behind, then Sabine, and finally Zeb. Hera and Chopper stayed higher up near the Ghost, ready in case things went sideways.

The passage they descended didn’t feel like part of the original temple. It felt older—or perhaps separate. As if it had been carved beneath the temple long before it was ever built. The walls were smooth, etched with ancient markings that caught the green glow of Ezra’s lightsaber like reflections on wet stone. The air was damp and carried a faint burnt smell, though nothing here had burned in a long time.

“I don’t like this place,” Kanan said quietly. “The Force down here… it’s restless.”

Ezra walked ahead, focused, eyes half-closed as though listening to something beyond sound. It was like a whisper—not heard with ears, but with instinct. It tugged at him, pulling him deeper—around corners, down half-buried corridors, past rusted fragments of machinery that clicked softly beneath their boots.

Zeb grunted under his breath. “You all feel that, right? This place is wrong. Feels like… something’s watching us.”

Sabine swallowed. “The carvings… these walls… they’re not from the Empire. Or the Republic. This is older.”

“Maul said there was knowledge buried here,” Ezra murmured. “From thousands of years ago—stuff no one remembers but… What is this place?” he asked, just as the tunnel suddenly opened into a wide chamber.

The walls and floor were made of heavy stone, black as obsidian. At the center stood a large, ancient carbonite block, flanked by worn monolithic walls. Above it, strange antigrav structures hovered, pulsing faintly with traces of power long faded. The light in the room was strange and deceptive, casting shadows that seemed to dance with every flicker.

Sabine stepped toward the chamber and said, “Ezra… this looks like… a tomb.”

At the base of the carbonite block was a stone altar. Resting on it were two lightsabers—one simple but elegant, its red crystal exposed, the other rougher, like it had been hastily built. Beside them sat a small, heavy datapad and a simple pendant holding a shard of what looked like golden metal, its edges sharp and fractured. Everything looked deliberately placed, like funerary offerings—and yet… nothing had been disturbed.

Ezra moved closer until he was almost touching the block. Beneath the surface of the carbonite, he could see the form of a young woman—perfectly preserved, like a statue frozen in time. He didn’t know her face. But something about it stirred a strange sense of compassion in him.

“She’s… still alive,” he whispered. “I can feel it. Maybe we could—”

Kanan rested a hand on his shoulder, his voice low with caution. “Ezra… if even the Sith locked someone away like this, they probably had a damn good reason. We should be careful. We have no idea what happens if we wake her up.”

But Ezra shook his head slowly. “This doesn’t feel like a prison. It feels… different. Like she’s not the danger. Maybe she’s just… a victim.”

Sabine, still scanning the chamber, suddenly held her breath. “This place is way older than we thought. The inscriptions—this chamber is more than three and a half thousand years old.”

Zeb blinked, clearly baffled. “Three thousand years? That can’t be right. Carbonite wouldn’t last that long…”

Ezra slowly reached for the pedestal where the two lightsabers rested. His fingers hovered just above one of them—the hilt was heavy, foreign, and yet… strangely familiar. With a mix of hesitation and undeniable curiosity, he picked it up.

For a moment, he simply stared at the weapon, holding it like some ancient relic from another world. Then, he pressed the activation switch with his thumb. With a soft hiss, a red blade ignited—sharp, brilliant, almost tangible. Its crimson light bathed the walls in a restless glow, flickering like living fire.

“Knowledge buried for thousands of years…” Ezra repeated Maul’s words quietly, eyes locked on the glowing blade. Then he turned his gaze back to the girl sealed in carbonite. “I can feel something through the Force. Like it’s telling me we can’t just leave her here.”

A tense silence followed. It was Kanan who finally broke it. His voice was calm, but held a warning.

“Ezra… echoes in the Force can be deceiving. You know that. You trusted a Sith once—and we almost didn’t make it out alive.”

Ezra sighed and looked at him. There was conviction in his voice… but also a flicker of doubt he was trying hard to ignore.

“I know. But this feels different. I don’t sense hatred from her—or anger. Just… loneliness. And sorrow.”

Sabine, leaning against the edge of the chamber, glanced down at a display and started tapping something quickly into her datapad. “If my scanner’s not broken, she’s older than anything we’ve ever seen. Maybe older than every Sith we’ve ever heard of—combined.”

She looked up at the rest of them and gave a small shrug. “She might have knowledge that could help us fight the Empire. Stuff a holocron would never reveal.”

Just then, Hera’s voice crackled through Kanan’s comlink. “The Sith have never been allies. And even if she’s not a threat… she won’t have any idea where—or when—she is. If she’s been frozen for three thousand years—”

“—then she might know things that have been lost to history,” Ezra cut in. “And she’s going to need someone to help her adjust. Maybe we’re her only chance.”

They all stared at him for a long moment. Sabine finally glanced at Kanan, who gave a silent nod.

“Alright,” Hera said slowly. “But if this goes sideways… this one’s on you, Ezra.”

He gave a small but sincere smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll look after her.”

Sabine smirked. “Let’s hope this ancient Sith appreciates us waking her up after three millennia.”

Zeb raised an eyebrow, muttered something unintelligible, and crossed his arms with a look that clearly said, ‘I told you so.’

Sabine stepped up to the control panel beside the carbonite block and took a deep breath. “Okay… here goes nothing,” she muttered, fingers flying over the controls as she activated the thawing sequence. The panel blinked, a deep hiss filled the air, and vapor began to escape from the edges of the slab as the block started to warm.

The girl’s body began to tremble. Her fingers twitched, her eyelids fluttered. They all watched in tense silence as she suddenly opened her eyes—golden, ringed in red, burning like fire in the dark. Her breath was sharp and rapid, her body seizing in violent spasms, like the Force itself was reluctant to let her go.

The carbonite cracked and broke apart. As the mist cleared, the girl collapsed forward. Ezra lunged and caught her before she hit the cold stone floor.

The young girl had white hair braided into two long plaits and a pale face marked by a thin scar running across her right eye. There was something peaceful in her features—but not innocent. Ezra held her gently and whispered, “It’s alright… you’re safe now.”

She gasped for air, her eyes unfocused, darting across the room in confusion. “Master…?” she breathed, barely audible.

Ezra froze, glancing up at Kanan and Sabine. “You’ve been in carbonite for a long time. But you’re out now… Can you hear me?” he asked softly, like speaking to someone half-awake from a dream.

She blinked, her eyes still lost in the void. “Master…? You look… weird. Since when do you wear orange? We’re gonna be late for the Council… they’re gonna be pissed…”

Kanan stepped forward carefully. When she looked at him, something flickered behind her eyes.

“Dad…? You came for me…?” Her voice cracked. “Why did you leave me…?” she whispered, before her body gave out once more and she slipped back into unconsciousness, her head resting against Ezra’s shoulder.

There was a soft crackle on the comlink, then Hera’s voice came through, dry but tense. “Didn’t know you had a kid, Kanan.”

“Yeah, hilarious,” Kanan muttered without smiling, “We have no idea what we’re dealing with. And we still need to be extremely careful.”

Ezra simply nodded, holding her a little tighter before standing up. “I know. But… something tells me she deserves a chance. Whoever she is, we can’t leave her behind.”

Ezra held the girl carefully in his arms as they made their way back to the surface. The corridors of the temple felt tighter now, the walls closer, the beams of their lights dimmed against the returning darkness like a heavy blanket. No one spoke. They moved in silence, as if all of them sensed they had just pulled something from the depths that perhaps was never meant to be awakened.

Zeb took the lead, clearing the path. Sabine walked just behind, carrying the girl’s weapons and datapad. Hera joined them only once they reached the ship, ready for takeoff. No one asked what would happen next—at least not yet.

Moments later, the Ghost was slipping through hyperspace, heading back toward the base on Atollon. In Ezra and Zeb’s quarter, the girl from Malachor lay motionless on a narrow bunk. Her breathing was shallow and uneven, a thin sheen of sweat on her brow. Now and then she murmured something in her sleep—disjointed fragments in a language or time that didn’t belong here.

Ezra sat beside her, watching her closely. The longer he looked, the more he realized how wrong his old ideas of the Sith had been. There was no hatred in her, no fury. Just exhaustion. And a strange, quiet sorrow that he couldn’t describe—only feel.

“We can’t… not now… important…” she whispered, lips barely moving.

Ezra leaned in slightly, curious what she meant. He wondered what her dreams looked like—what world her mind wandered through. Was it the one she came from? Or the one she’d fallen into?

The door slid open and Hera stepped inside. Kanan followed, leaning against the doorway with a conflicted expression. Sabine stood opposite, arms crossed, silent.

“Ezra,” Hera said softly. “We need to talk.”

He nodded, not taking his eyes off the girl. “I know.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Kanan broke the silence, his voice low but firm. “I still don’t know if this was the right call. Maybe it would’ve been better to leave her somewhere safe—where she couldn’t put us, or the whole rebel cell, at risk.”

“You can’t be serious,” Ezra shot back, finally looking up. “It’s not fair to treat her like a threat right away. She doesn’t even know where she is. We have no reason to assume—”

“Alright,” Hera interrupted gently but with authority. “Then tell me—what exactly do you plan to do with her? If she really is a Sith, and from thousands of years ago… what happens when she realizes what kind of world she’s woken up in?”

Ezra fell silent. Only now did the full weight of the situation truly hit him. Everything the girl had known was gone. Everything she believed in, erased. She’d been ripped out of time—and he was the one who had pulled her back.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “But if we just leave her somewhere, what happens if the Empire finds her first?”

Sabine nodded. “And if they figure out who she is—or what she knows—they’ll want her. No questions asked.”

Kanan sighed, his face still tense. “Alright. Let’s say we keep her. What if, once she regains her strength, she turns on us? What if she decides we’re better off dead?”

“She won’t,” Ezra said without hesitation.

Kanan raised an eyebrow. “You sound awfully sure about that.”

Ezra looked back at the girl sleeping beside him. “Her presence in the Force… it’s different. She’s not like Vader. Or Maul. There’s something else. She’s broken… but she’s not dark.”

Kanan didn’t respond right away. After a long pause, he simply shrugged.

Hera gave Ezra a measured look. “Alright. She stays. But if this goes south… you won’t be the one making the final call. Understood?”

Ezra gave a silent nod, though deep down he hoped it would never come to that.

Just then, the girl stirred. Her lips parted and she whispered in a strained, dreamy voice, “Emperor… Valkorion… fleet… they’ll land…”

Sabine arched a brow and smirked. “Great. We just woke up the oldest Sith in the galaxy.”

It didn’t take long before the girl suddenly opened her eyes—wide, sharp, as if she had just snapped out of a nightmare. Her gaze darted across the ceiling of the small cabin, confused and unfocused, until it finally landed on Ezra, still seated at her bedside, watching her closely.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was taut, broken only by the uneven sound of her breathing.

“Where…?” she rasped, her voice hoarse. “Who are you?”

Ezra moved slowly, raising his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. “It’s alright,” he said gently, with a calm smile meant to reassure her. “We found you frozen in carbonite—on Malachor. I’m Ezra Bridger… What’s your name?”

She eyed him warily at first, as if trying to decide whether he was an enemy or something else entirely. Finally, after a brief pause, she spoke softly. “Nixelle… Nix.” Her brow furrowed slightly. “I’m from Dromund Kaas…?”

The last part sounded more like a question than a statement. Ezra tilted his head, puzzled. “Dromund Kaas… is that a planet?”

Nix ignored the question and instead asked her own—this time more urgently. “And what are you, Ezra?”

Ezra hesitated for just a second before answering. “I’m a Jedi—”

“Jedi?!” Nix cut him off, eyes flaring wide with alarm. Panic set in quickly. “No, no… that’s not right. I can’t be a prisoner of the Republic. We’re not supposed to be fighting each other right now—what happened to the Empire? Where’s my master? Satele could explain this… or someone from the Dark Council… I—” Her voice cracked, and she abruptly tried to stand.

“Wait, slow down!” Ezra called out, reaching for her, but she was already on her feet.

The moment she stood, dizziness overtook her. Her body betrayed her, and she collapsed hard onto the floor before Ezra could catch her.

“Are you alright?” he asked, rushing to her side and offering his hand.

Nix stared at the outstretched hand for a moment, then took it slowly and let him help her up.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… needed a little rest. Y’know—on the floor,” she said dryly, trying to mask the embarrassment of her fall with humor.

Ezra blinked at her, unsure if she was serious—until she gave a weak laugh. He couldn’t help but smile back. “You really should be more careful.”

“It’s called a joke, you know. You Jedi don’t do those very much, do you?” she said with a crooked grin. “But seriously… where’s my master? Is there anyone who can tell me what’s going on? Satele? Anyone?”

Ezra paused. “Honestly… I don’t think that’s possible. We found you frozen in carbonite, and according to our scans, that carbonite is about three and a half thousand years old.”

Nix gave a short, incredulous laugh—almost a reflex. But the humor drained from her face the moment she saw Ezra’s expression. “Wait… you’re not joking, are you?”

Ezra shook his head slowly, his voice steady but full of empathy. “It’s true. You’re basically in the future now—about three and a half thousand years from the time you remember.”

Nix looked around the small cabin, eyes scanning the unfamiliar devices and lights. Everything was foreign. After a moment, her gaze returned to Ezra and she whispered, “No. That… that can’t be real.”

“I know it’s hard to understand,” Ezra said gently. “But I swear—I didn’t want to scare you.”

She let out a quiet, broken sigh and sat back down on the bed, as if the weight of the truth might pull her under. For a moment, she sat in silence, staring into nothing. Then she looked back up at Ezra.

“So… what happened to the Sith Empire? To the Jedi? The Republic?”

Ezra sat beside her and began to explain—slowly, carefully—the things that had changed. He told her about the Galactic Empire, about a small group of rebels he was part of. He spoke of their fight, the crew of the Ghost.

Nix listened without interrupting, her golden eyes fixed on him. She nodded occasionally, but her face was an unreadable mask, making it hard to tell how much of his story she was truly processing. The fall of the Republic, the rise of the Empire, the near-extinction of the Jedi… To her, it must have sounded like a madman’s tale. Yet, she remained unnervingly still, absorbing the weight of three and a half thousand years of lost history.

When Ezra finished, a heavy silence settled between them. He hesitated for a moment, then asked softly, “What about you? What’s the last thing you remember?”

Only then did her composure seem to flicker for the first time. She looked away, down at her hands. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, almost clinical. Like a soldier reciting a mission debriefing. She told him about her master, Darth Elkazar and about a betrayal by an Emperor she called Valkorion. But as she neared the end of her story, the clinical tone began to fray, and her voice faltered.

“When the Emperor betrayed us… everything started falling apart. And then… nothing. Just silence.” Her voice had gone quiet, almost hollow. “I don’t remember anything after that.”

The room went still. Only the soft hum of the Ghost's engines broke the silence.

When she looked back up at Ezra, her expression had changed. It was softer. Less guarded. For the first time, it felt like she wasn’t interrogating him—but truly talking to him.

Another silence followed, but it felt different now. Not empty—just heavy with the weight of what they both understood.

Nix let out a breath and met his eyes. “So it’s all gone…”

Ezra nodded. But he added gently, “You’re not alone. I’ll help you find your place in this new world.”
He didn’t really know what to make of her yet. She was a Sith. But she looked shattered. Lost. And something inside him wanted to be the one who helped her.

“I don’t know why…” Nix said softly, studying him, “…but I have a strange feeling about you.”
Then, at last, a faint, honest smile touched her lips. “I think… I can trust you, Ezra Bridger.”

Ezra smiled back—and in that moment, the ship gave a soft jolt as it dropped out of hyperspace and began descending toward Atollon.

Chapter Text

The command room on the Chopper base was quiet, but filled with tension. The cool glow of the control panels cast pale light over the faces of those waiting inside. Hera stood with her arms crossed, eyes fixed on the two figures who had just entered: Ezra and the girl they had found on Malachor.

Ezra watched as Nix did her best to appear calm, but he could see the slight tremor in her hands and the tension in her shoulders.

‘She must feel like a cornered loth-cat,’ he thought, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in his own stomach. Every eye in the room was on her, their distrust barely hidden.

Hera studied her carefully, as if calculating risks in her head and searching Nix’s eyes for answers to questions she hadn’t even asked yet.

“So… a Sith on our base,” Hera said quietly, but clearly. Her voice was calm, yet undeniably authoritative. “There’s a sentence I never expected to say.”

“And I never thought I’d wake up in some weird-ass future,” Nix shot back with a small smirk. “Guess we’re even.”

For a fleeting moment, Ezra thought he saw Hera’s lips twitch into something resembling a smile, but it vanished almost instantly.

“Honestly, I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do with you,” Hera continued, still calm but firm. “Don’t take it personally, Nix… but we’ve had some pretty bad experiences with your kind.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Nix said softly, lowering her eyes. To Ezra, it looked like she genuinely understood.

Hera turned to Ezra. “You’ll keep an eye on her. If she tries anything, it’s on you.”

Ezra nodded silently.

But Hera looked at Nix once more, this time directly. “I just hope we won’t end up regretting finding you.”

Nix nodded once. “I understand.”

When Ezra stepped out of the command room alongside Nix, it was the first time he could really take a good look at her in daylight. Back on Malachor and on the ship, shadows had hidden the details.

She was shorter than him, geared for combat in a way that felt both practical and ancient. A short, fitted jacket made of some tough fabric bore an unfamiliar red symbol on the shoulder. Her black utility pants were tucked into heavy, knee-high boots, a tactical belt cinching her waist.

But it was her face, framed by two snow-white braids, that truly held his attention. Her skin was unnaturally pale, and a thin scar sliced across her right eye, a flaw that only drew more attention to her eyes themselves. They were a strange, luminous gold with a crimson ring, pupilless and unsettling, with faint dark veins spreading beneath the skin like fine cracks in porcelain.

He had a thousand questions, but none of them felt right. So instead, he looked away and offered a small smile. “So… this is our base.”

Ezra watched as Nix lifted her gaze, her eyes slowly scanning the courtyard for the first time. He saw the base through her eyes for a moment: the pilots hurrying between ships, the techs arguing loudly over an open generator, a handful of younger rebels practicing blaster fire in the distance. He could only imagine what she must be thinking. For someone who came from the pristine, orderly halls of an Empire, this messy, chaotic slice of the Rebellion had to be a shock. She was silent for a long moment, just taking it all in.

“It’s… different,” Nix said slowly.

Ezra chuckled. “Yeah, it’s not exactly perfect. The main complaints are that it’s too hot, too dusty… and the spiders.”

Nix flinched slightly. “Spiders?”

“Yeah,” Ezra said casually, as if he were mentioning the weather. “Big ones. Two meters tall. Pretty aggressive, too.”

Nix shot him a look that was anything but amused. Her eyes darted around the area, suddenly wary, as if she was actually expecting a giant spider to crawl out of the shadows. “Great…” she muttered.

‘Okay, maybe that joke didn’t land,’ Ezra thought, fighting the urge to laugh at her reaction.

Ezra stifled a laugh. “You seem a little jumpy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Everyone’s got a thing,” she said, trying to sound bored. She glanced around again. “But seriously, they’re not here, right?”

“Don’t worry,” Ezra said with a grin. “The perimeter fence is solid. Mostly.” He gave her a playful nudge.

Nix didn’t look entirely convinced, but she let out a slow breath. “Right. ‘Mostly.’ Super reassuring.”

“I never would've guessed a Sith would be afraid of spiders,” Ezra teased.

“Seriously, what’s your image of a Sith, anyway? Some kind of monster?” Nix shot back, her smirk returning.

Ezra’s smile faltered. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze drifting away for a moment. “It’s… complicated,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. “Let’s just say my experiences have been… mixed. And mostly bad.” He quickly shook his head as if to clear the thought, then offered her a brighter smile. “Anyway, come on. I’ll show you around.”

Nix gave a small, hesitant nod, and he started to lead her deeper into the organized chaos of the base.

It didn’t take long for him to notice the stares. Some of the other rebels watched her pass with open suspicion, their eyes following her every move. A protective urge rose in him. He wanted to tell them to back off, but he knew it wouldn’t help.

‘She just needs a chance,’ he thought, falling into step beside her. ‘I just need to give her a reason to trust us.’

Nix followed Ezra past humming machinery and stacks of spare parts, the air thick with the smell of ozone. He led her toward what looked like a technical wing, and her eyes immediately landed on a group of rebels gathered around a terminal.

‘This place is chaos,’ she thought, taking in the scene. They were loud, disorganized… and yet, there was a strange energy to them. A sense of purpose.

‘Nothing like the Academy. Nothing like the Empire.’ Her gaze settled on the Mandalorian girl hunched over a screen, and even from a distance, Nix could see the knot of frustration in her posture.

“Ugh, this is garbage,” the Mandalorian girl—Sabine, Ezra had called her on the ship—muttered, leaning back from the screen with a frustrated sigh. “The syntax is all wrong. It’s not a standard Imperial cipher.”

“Stuck on something?” Ezra asked, leaning over her shoulder.

“Probe droid intercept,” Sabine said, gesturing tiredly at the screen. “Looks important, but it’s encrypted with something I’ve never seen before. It’s gibberish.”

Nix stepped closer, her full attention drawn to the symbols.

Sabine noticed her staring. “See something you recognize?” she asked, a hint of challenge in her voice.

Nix hesitated for a fraction of a second. ‘Should I help them? This one,’ she thought, glancing at Sabine, ‘definitely sees me as a threat.’ But then her gaze flicked to Ezra, who was just watching her with open curiosity, not suspicion. ‘But maybe he doesn’t.’

“It’s not gibberish,” Nix said slowly, her voice quiet but clear. “And it’s not new. It’s based on the same structure we used… back in my day.”

A brief, stunned silence fell over the group. Everyone was staring at her. ‘Great. Now they really think I’m some kind of ancient weirdo.’

She shifted her weight, trying to sound casual. “I mean… I could give it a shot. If you want.”

The Mandalorian, Sabine, didn’t answer right away. Her head turned to Ezra, and Nix saw him give a slight, encouraging nod. Only then did Sabine turn back to her. “Go for it.”

Nix approached the terminal but paused. The interface was completely alien to her. “Okay, but I can’t work on this. Do you have something I can write on?”

Sabine pointed to the side. “Holoboard’s over there.”

Nix nodded and pulled out her own datapad. “I think I still have the reference tables on here somewhere…” she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. As she began copying the symbols, cross-referencing them with her own files, she felt a strange sense of focus settle over her.

‘It’s like looking at a distorted reflection… so familiar, but all the details are wrong.’

Eventually, she stepped back, frowning at her own work. “It’s not perfect,” she announced, gesturing to the board. “The language has drifted. But it looks like a supply manifest. These are coordinates, and these look like cargo codes. Probably.”

Sabine crossed her arms; her tone was a mix of skepticism and grudging respect. “Not bad,” she said. “You figured that out faster than I thought you would.”

Nix’s gaze flickered from the symbols back to Ezra, a confused frown on her face. “It’s familiar… but twisted. Like someone took the language I know and just… broke it.”

Before Ezra could respond, a sharp, authoritative voice cut through the air behind them. “Ezra. Care to explain why our guest is accessing a terminal with sensitive intel?”

Nix turned to see the green-skinned Twi’lek—Hera, that was her name—standing with her arms crossed, her expression radiating disapproval. She watched Ezra flinch and quickly turn around.

“I was just… she was helping, Hera,” Ezra stammered, his confident tone gone.

“These terminals hold tactical data,” Hera said, her voice dangerously calm. “I can’t have a stranger… a Sith… anywhere near them.”

“Hang on, Hera,” Sabine stepped in, her voice firm. “She’s the reason we cracked this. It’s an old cipher. She helped. A lot.”

Hera’s gaze shifted from Sabine to Ezra, then finally landed on Nix, cold and appraising. The silence stretched for a long moment before the commander finally moved, approaching the holoboard. After studying it, her eyes met Nix’s again, just for a second, before she turned to Ezra. “Fine. But find something for her to do that’s less of a security risk.”

Ezra nodded quickly and motioned for Nix to follow him outside.

Nix followed him out into the corridor, the silence between them awkward for a few paces. Finally, he glanced over at her, looking embarrassed. “Sorry about that,” he muttered. “I didn’t think it would blow up like that.”

“It’s fine,” Nix said with a shrug, but a smirk was already forming on her lips. “Though I’m not sure what you expected. For me to start leaking secrets to my ancient Sith buddies? ‘Hey, Imperial High Command? It’s your agent from 3,000 years ago. You guys owe me some serious back pay. Also, I found those rebels you’re looking for. They’re on this hot, sandy rock.’”

For a second, Ezra just stared at her, his expression blank. Then a grin cracked his face, and he let out a genuine laugh. Nix watched him, surprised by the sound.

“Okay, yeah,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “When you put it like that, it does sound pretty ridiculous.”

“Exactly,” Nix said, and this time, her own smile felt real. It was a strange feeling—seeing him laugh with her, not at her. A small, unfamiliar warmth spread through her chest.

‘Okay,’ she thought. ‘So he does have a sense of humor.’

Ezra shook his head, still smiling. “I’ve still got some work to do, but... you wanna help out?”

She saw a flicker of hope in his eyes and felt a strange pull to say yes. “Sure. What’s the job?”

“Just moving some supply crates,” he said, leading the way toward the landing pads. “Standard, boring stuff.”

They reached a stack of unloaded crates, and Ezra immediately started lifting them onto a nearby hovercart. Nix stood back for a moment, tilting her head as she sized up the stack.

She glanced at Ezra, who was already starting to sweat. “Don’t you guys have droids for this?”

Ezra chuckled, wiping his brow. “A few. But we’re a rebellion, not an Empire. Guess we can’t afford the luxury.”

“Luxury,” Nix repeated dryly, shooting him a look. “At the academy on Korriban, Acolytes would kill each other just to get a better meal. Not exactly my idea of luxury.”

Nix watched him pause mid-lift, the crate seeming to grow heavier in his hands. His cheerful expression vanished, replaced by something somber and confused. He set the crate down carefully.

‘Oh,’ she thought, a flicker of dark amusement in her mind. ‘He actually believed all those ghost stories, didn’t he? About the all-powerful, galaxy-conquering Sith.’

“That… sounds awful,” he said quietly.

“Could’ve been worse,” Nix said with a shrug, and then, with a simple gesture, she used the Force to lift two crates at once, placing them gently on top of the others.

Nix watched the curiosity in his eyes get overshadowed by something else: shock, maybe even horror. He shook his head slightly, as if he couldn’t comprehend what she’d just said. After a moment, he seemed to force the conversation forward, his voice quieter now. “So… that’s how you became a Sith? An academy like that?”

Nix gave a small, almost bitter smile. “Basically. But it wasn’t as simple as that.”

Another silence settled between them. She watched him, trying to read the jumble of emotions on his face. He seemed to be wrestling with a dozen different questions, his gaze distant. Nix braced herself, expecting another probe into her past, another question about the Sith. But it never came. Instead, his expression softened into something gentler.

“Have you thought about what you want to do now?” he asked quietly. “I mean… would you want to stay with us?”

Nix paused, then gave a humorless laugh. “Let’s be real, your commander isn’t about to let me just wander off. And it’s not like I have anywhere to go. I’m clearly not from around here.” She gestured vaguely at the chaotic base. “One minute I’m fighting a real war, the next I’m in… whatever this is, against an Empire that feels like a cheap knock-off of the one I knew.”

She shrugged, the fight in her voice softening. “So, yeah. I’m stuck. And sitting around is going to drive me crazy. I’d rather be useful than just be your prisoner. If you’ll let me.”

Nix watched Ezra place the last crate onto the cart. He was quiet for a moment, a thoughtful frown on his face as they began walking slowly toward the supply depot. Then he looked over at her, a conflicted half-smile on his face.

“Really? It’s just… really hard to wrap my head around you being a Sith,” he said.

Nix let out an incredulous laugh. “What, because I’m not actively trying to destroy things?”

She watched him laugh, but it was a sad kind of laugh, and his smile quickly faded.

“Yeah, well… a lot of people think that,” he admitted. “I’m… not one of them. Not completely. A Sith helped me once. A guy named Maul. He helped me get something important.”

Nix saw the look on his face change as he mentioned the name, the memory clearly a heavy one. “Okay, but that’s not the whole story, is it?” she prompted gently. “I can practically hear the ‘but’ coming.”

Ezra’s expression turned grim. He nodded. “Yeah. He flipped. Tried to take everything for himself. He blinded Kanan.”

Nix actually stopped walking. “He blinded him?” she repeated, her voice losing its sarcastic edge. She looked from Ezra back in the direction of the base, as if seeing Kanan in a new light. “To blind a Jedi Master… that’s a brutal.”

Ezra just gave a small, bitter nod. “At first, I thought he wanted me as his apprentice. But in the end, it was clear he was just using me.”

“Wow. The nerve,” Nix scoffed. “To try and turn you right in front of your master? That’s just messed up.”

Ezra let out a soft, sad laugh. “Since then… things between me and Kanan haven’t really been the same.” He looked away, and for the first time, Nix saw a crack in his usual optimistic armor.

‘He’s hurting,’ she realized with a jolt of surprise. It was a vulnerability she hadn’t expected.

“Why?” she asked, her curiosity suddenly genuine.

Ezra just shrugged, the sadness clear in his voice. “I wish I knew…”

A heavy silence fell between them as they continued walking. Nix didn't know what to say to that. For the first time, she saw him not as some naive Jedi boy, but as someone who was just as broken as she was, in his own way. She said nothing, and for a while, the only sound was their footsteps on the dusty ground as they finally reached the storage depot.

They worked in a comfortable silence for a while, moving the crates to their designated spots. It was mindless work, which Nix was grateful for. It gave her time to process everything—Ezra’s story, his unexpected vulnerability, the strange quiet that had fallen between them. The rest of the day passed in a similar blur of minor tasks.

By the time evening came, after a quick meal she barely tasted, Nix found a secluded platform overlooking the base to be alone with her thoughts. Ezra had been called away to some important briefing, leaving her with nothing but the hum of the base and her own racing mind.

She pulled out her datapad, scrolling past training schematics and mission logs until she found it: a playlist of old songs.

‘Music from another life,’ she thought dryly. Placing the headphones over her ears, she closed her eyes as the first notes washed over her. It wasn't music from her childhood, but from the place she spent most of her life: the academy. For a moment, she wasn’t on a rebel base at all. She was back in the common room after a grueling trial, the air thick with cheap booze and the rare sound of laughter instead of shouted threats.

“Say it ain't so, I will not go. Turn the lights off, carry me home…”

She was so lost in the melody, humming softly to the words, that she didn't hear the soft footsteps behind her until a shadow shifted in her peripheral vision.

She flinched violently, spinning around as her headphones slid to her shoulders, the datapad nearly slipping from her grasp. It was Ezra. Just Ezra. Her heart, however, was still hammering against her ribs as if trying to escape.

He was smiling, a look of clear amusement on his face. Nix felt her face flush.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to sneak up on people?” she snapped, trying to cover her embarrassment with aggression. Then, realizing how harsh that sounded, she quickly backpedaled. “I mean… uh, how was the big, important meeting?”

“Long,” Ezra shrugged, stepping a little closer. “But this was more interesting, honestly.”

Nix felt her cheeks flush again and quickly looked away. “Don’t be weird. It’s just music,” she muttered. “It’s better than sitting around humming to myself like some Jedi.”

Ezra just grinned. “By the way, I convinced Hera to let you come with us on a supply run tomorrow.”

Nix blinked, surprised by the offer. A supply run? They were actually going to let her off the base? “Oh,” she said, trying to keep the wave of relief out of her voice. “Okay. Cool.”

His smile widened. “Right. Well, I should probably show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

They walked in a comfortable silence toward what he called the residential section of the base—a cluster of large cargo containers repurposed into small living spaces. He stopped at one of the doors.

“So, this is you,” he said, gesturing inside. “It’s not much, but it’s private. I’m right across the hall for tonight.” He hesitated for a second, then added, “Normally I bunk on the Ghost, but I figured I should stay close. You know, in case you need anything.” He gave her a slightly awkward, but sincere smile.

“Thanks, Ezra,” she said softly, and the gratitude in her voice was real. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Nix,” he answered, waiting until she stepped inside before the door slid shut.

She took in the room. It was bare—a small bed, a table, a single storage crate. A definite step down from the comfortable cabin she’d had on her Master’s ship. But then, a memory of the cold, shared dormitories at the Academy surfaced, a place where you always had to sleep with one eye open.

‘Still,’ she thought with a flicker of dark humor, ‘it’s a palace compared to that.’ It wasn’t much, but it was safe. It was hers. And for now, that felt like enough.

Chapter Text

Morning on Atollon began slowly and quietly, as if the entire base was waking up along with the rising sun. The first rays of light filtered through the small window of Nix's modest room, casting golden patterns across the walls. She opened her eyes and stared silently at the ceiling for a while. Her thoughts were a scattered mess, torn between the world she once knew and this strange new world that was now meant to be her home.

She wondered how long it would take before any of this felt normal. She was now part of a rebellion against an Empire she barely understood. It would take time to figure out how everything worked.

A few minutes later, she stepped out of her room and found Ezra waiting outside, near the row of modular sleeping quarters.

“Good morning,” Ezra said with an encouraging smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“Pretty well,” Nix replied with a faint smile. “But I still feel like I’m about to wake up back in my time.”

Ezra nodded knowingly, and the two of them started walking toward the mess hall. Over breakfast, they talked about all kinds of things. Ezra told her more about the Empire—how dangerous it had become for the galaxy—and how he met the Ghost crew and ended up joining the rebellion. Nix listened intently, asking questions and trying to absorb everything she could about the situation she now found herself in.

After breakfast, they headed to the hangar, where Hera and Sabine were already waiting. The Ghost stood prepped and ready, its hull gleaming under the bright lights, as if eager for action.

“There you are,” Hera said as they approached, giving Nix a quick glance—still unsure about bringing her along. But in the end, she just gave a slight nod and continued, “We’ve got a chance to pick up a few things from one of our contacts. The Imperial blockade still hasn’t returned to Lothal, so the way is clear. It’s an important shipment—repair parts, fuel, other essentials. Sabine’s going with you, and…”

“And so am I,” came a familiar voice from across the hangar. Kanan walked toward them, his expression calm but serious.

“Are you sure about this, Kanan?” Hera asked gently.

He answered with a simple nod, and she didn’t press the issue. “Alright then. Everyone aboard. We leave in a few minutes.”

The Ghost lifted off smoothly and, within moments, broke through Atollon’s atmosphere. Once the ship entered hyperspace, Nix allowed herself to relax, leaning back on the lounge couch. The crew seemed surprisingly calm. Hera was piloting, with Sabine seated beside her in the cockpit, monitoring the controls. In the lounge area, Nix sat with Ezra and Kanan, passing the time with quiet conversation.

She was seated next to Ezra, asking question after question, still trying to make sense of it all.

“So let me get this straight,” she said, her brow furrowed slightly. “There was some kind of clone war, and the Jedi fought in it. Then the war ended, and overnight the Republic just… became the Empire?”

Ezra gave a small smile and shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve heard no one really understood what was happening at first. But then the Empire had control of everything, and the Jedi were nearly wiped out.”

“Right.” Nix hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “And this… Vader? Where does he fit into all of this?”

Ezra glanced toward Kanan, but he remained silent, clearly not eager to join the conversation. “No one really knows,” Ezra said quietly. “He just showed up out of nowhere and started hunting down the surviving Jedi.”

Nix fell silent, staring at the floor in thought. But then she felt… something. Slowly, she looked up at Kanan. He wore a strange mask that completely covered his blind eyes, and yet Nix couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching her. It was uncanny—almost as if he could really see her. Uneasy, she shifted in her seat and quickly looked away.

“It’s just… strange,” Nix murmured, lost in thought. “Sounds like an inside job, honestly.” She paused for a moment. “And here I thought the end of the Great Galactic War was unnecessary.”

Before Ezra could respond, Hera’s voice came over the intercom: “We’ll be landing soon. Get ready.”

The ship touched down smoothly on a grassy plateau just outside a city. As the crew stepped out of the Ghost, they were greeted by a peaceful landscape bathed in the soft light of the rising sun.

Ezra looked around and stretched his arms. “So… where exactly are we meeting this contact?”

Hera glanced down at her datapad one last time, then looked off toward the horizon. “We were supposed to meet him right here. Looks like he’s running a bit late.”

Ezra turned to her. “Would it be alright if I took Nix for a little walk around the area? I’d like to show her the place.”

Hera hesitated for a moment, then gave a small, approving smile. “Alright, but stay out of the city. As soon as our contact arrives, we’ll call you back.”

After a brief pause, Kanan added thoughtfully, “Might be a good idea for Sabine to go with you. Just in case.”

Ezra gave a casual shrug. “Sure, why not.”

Sabine stood up from where she’d been sitting and walked over to Ezra with a playful smirk.

“Alright, let’s go. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you—make sure you don’t get into trouble.”

The air was crisp, and the breeze brought a pleasant chill that cooled the sun-warmed ground. Sabine walked a few steps ahead while Ezra pointed out the distant hills and a few spots that clearly held some meaning for him. But the farther they got from the Ghost, the more often Ezra glanced toward the nearby town—until he finally couldn’t resist.

“Hey, what if we just took a quick look around the city?” he suggested.

Sabine shot him a sharp look. “Ezra, Hera specifically said not to go into town.”

“We’ll just peek in,” Ezra replied innocently, already walking off without waiting for an answer. “It’ll only take a minute. No one’s even gonna notice us.”

Sabine sighed but reluctantly gave in. As soon as they passed between the first buildings, a lively marketplace opened up before them. The streets were packed with stalls selling goods of all kinds, people pushing through the crowd, and the air was thick with the scents of spices, freshly cooked food, and exotic flowers.

Nix looked around in fascination, taking in the bustling energy of the place—until something suddenly caught her attention.

“What’s that?” she asked with unexpected excitement, pointing toward a spot between the stalls. Before Ezra or Sabine could react, she darted into a side alley.

Ezra glanced at Sabine, confused. She just rolled her eyes and sighed, and the two of them quickly followed after her.

They finally found Nix, crouched in a narrow alley. She was gently reaching out toward a small Loth-cat, which was watching her curiously. The cat hesitated for a second, then leaned forward and let her stroke its head, purring contentedly.

Nix turned to Ezra and Sabine with a surprisingly soft smile. “She’s so ugly…” she said. The two of them just stared at her, not sure how to respond, until she added, “I love her. Can I keep her?”

Ezra laughed and shook his head. “Yeah… I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

Nix’s expression dropped, and she gave the cat one last gentle pat. But before anyone could say more, a familiar voice called out behind them.

“Well, I was starting to think you ditched me!”

The three of them spun around to see Cikatro Vizago approaching, a wide grin on his face—though something about his expression immediately set off alarm bells for Ezra.

“Vizago,” Ezra said cautiously. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Vizago echoed, as if the answer were obvious. “Far as I know, you were looking to buy some rare goods from me.”

Ezra glanced over at Sabine, who gave a slight shrug. “So… you’re our contact?” he asked. “The meeting point was supposed to be somewhere else.”

Vizago shrugged, spreading his hands awkwardly. “Yeah, well… more of you showed up than I expected.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ezra asked, a knot of unease tightening in his chest.

Vizago gave a sheepish grin. “It means I had to stall you for a bit. Nothing personal.”

Before they could react, a squad of stormtroopers rounded the corner behind him, blasters at the ready. Vizago gave a quick wave goodbye and disappeared into the crowd.

Sabine didn’t hesitate. In one smooth motion, she drew her dual blasters and opened fire. Ezra instinctively grabbed Nix by the arm and pulled her behind a nearby crate for cover, drawing his own blaster and returning fire.

Nix crouched behind the crate, frustrated—no lightsabers, no blaster. Her eyes darted around until she spotted an old, rusty crowbar lying on the ground. Without thinking, she grabbed it, peeked over the crate, and focused. The crowbar shot through the air like a missile, slamming into a stormtrooper’s helmet and knocking him out cold.

Ezra looked up, impressed. “Nice shot!”

“We really need to get out of here!” Sabine shouted over the blaster fire. No sooner had she said it than another squad of troopers rounded the far corner. Realizing it was getting too chaotic to stay on the ground, she sprinted toward the nearest wall and vaulted onto the rooftops.

Ezra grabbed Nix’s hand tightly and took off running in the opposite direction. As they ran, Nix stretched out her arm behind her and the crowbar flew back into her grip from beside the unconscious trooper. A second later, it smashed into another trooper’s legs mid-run, sending him crashing to the ground.

Ezra activated the comm on his wrist. “Specter Six to Ghost! We’ve made contact, but it was a setup.”

There was a pause, then Hera’s voice came through, tight with concern. “Copy that, Specter Six. We’re on our way!”

Ezra and Nix ran through the maze of narrow buildings, dodging alleys and archways. “Behind us!” Nix warned, hearing heavy footsteps closing in. Ezra spun, firing off a few quick shots, while Nix hurled the crowbar with deadly precision. It struck one of the stormtroopers squarely, dropping him with a loud clang.

With a flick of her hand, the crowbar flew back to her palm, and the two of them kept moving.

At last, they broke free of the city limits and found themselves on an open, empty plain. Ezra scanned the horizon, eyes searching for the Ghost. It didn’t take long before the familiar roar of engines echoed above them.

“Right on time,” Ezra exhaled with relief as the Ghost appeared overhead. The ship’s rear ramp opened mid-flight, and Sabine stood waiting, waving at them urgently.

“Hurry! Come on!”

But before they could reach the ship, a low, mechanical rumble echoed behind them. From around the corner of the city emerged an Imperial AT-DP walker, its cannon locking onto them.

“Look out!” Ezra shouted, yanking Nix behind him just as the first volley of laser fire-streaked past. The explosion kicked up a cloud of dust, and Nix instinctively raised her arm to shield herself from the blast. But then her gaze locked onto the Ghost, hovering vulnerably in the air.

Without thinking, she stepped forward and planted her feet firmly. Both arms stretched out in front of her, and suddenly the air cracked with raw energy. Bolts of lightning erupted from her hands, slamming into the walker. Blue arcs danced across its metal frame, short-circuiting the electronics until the machine came to a grinding halt.

Ezra stared in awe at the display—but his attention snapped to the horizon, where a second walker was approaching, this time flanked by two TIE fighters.

“Nix, we have to go! Now!” he shouted.

Ezra jumped onto the ship first. Nix’s hands gripped the edge of the ramp, but for a moment, her strength faltered. Just as she was about to slip, Sabine grabbed her wrists and hauled her inside.

The Ghost immediately shot upward, ramp closing behind them. Ezra stood there, catching his breath, adrenaline still coursing through him.

“How did you do that?”

Nix slumped against the wall of the ship, shaking slightly. Her hands trembled, and she looked as if she could barely stand. She gasped for air, but no words came out.

Ezra’s smile faded. Something was clearly wrong—this wasn’t just fatigue. She looked like she was barely conscious.

“Hey… are you okay?” he asked gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I think so,” she whispered, eyes closing. “I just… need a second.”

She tried to take a step forward, but dizziness hit her hard. The room spun—and then everything went black. Ezra caught her just before she hit the floor.

“Nix?” he breathed, holding her carefully in his arms. “What’s happening?”

He heard footsteps behind him. Kanan entered the cargo bay, his expression not exactly reassuring. Ezra turned toward him quickly, eyes filled with concern.

“Kanan, she just collapsed. What’s going on?”

Kanan sighed and walked closer, his voice calm but edged with seriousness.

“Her body’s been cut off from the Force for far too long. She was frozen in carbonite for thousands of years, Ezra. Even though she’s a Force-user, her connection isn’t fully restored yet. She probably overextended herself.”

At that moment, Nix slowly opened her eyes, blinking in confusion as she realized she was lying on the floor. She rubbed her temples and tried to sit up.

“What happened?” she muttered weakly.

This time, it was Sabine who asked, “Are you alright, Nix?”

Nix nodded, though she still looked unsure. “Yeah, I’m fine… it’s nothing,” she said tiredly. Then she paused, frowning slightly.

“It’s just… the Force feels different than I remember. It used to be so… wild. Chaotic. Now it’s much calmer but heavier.”

Ezra gave her a curious look. “You can actually feel that?”

Before Nix could answer, Kanan spoke up, his tone calm but instructional.

“Maybe it’s time you learned to actually listen to the Force—understand it—instead of just using it like every other Sith.”

Nix shot him an annoyed glare and sighed. “Great. Another Jedi who wants to lecture me about what the Force really is. Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

Kanan wasn’t finished. His voice stayed steady, but there was weight behind his words.

“You used Force lightning. In the middle of a city. Do you even realize how dangerous that was?”

“I was trying to protect you!” Nix snapped immediately.
Kanan just shook his head. “There’s always another way. That’s not how the Force is meant to be used.”

Nix didn’t have the energy—or the patience—for this argument.

“Fine,” she muttered dryly. “Next time, I’ll politely ask the walker to give us a head start.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked out of the cargo bay, heading toward the common room.

Before Kanan could reply, Ezra stepped between them.

“Kanan, just… let her be. She was trying to help us.”

“That walker nearly hit us,” Sabine added, backing him up.

Nix climbed the ladder and slipped through the narrow door into the Ghost’s common room, each step feeling heavier than the last. She wasn’t used to defending herself—especially not for trying to help. And having someone criticize her for it stung more than she expected.

She let out a long sigh as she entered the room and dropped onto the couch next to a small table that, in that moment, felt far too empty.

There was a strange, distant look in her eyes—something tired and sad. She didn’t notice that Hera was quietly watching her from the corridor near the crew quarters. Nix just pulled out her datapad, slid on her headphones, and started watching something on the small screen.

Hera considered going to talk to her but eventually turned and walked back to the cockpit.

A few minutes later, Ezra stepped into the room. He sat down at the table beside Nix, watching her in silence for a moment before deciding to break the tension.

“Hey,” he said gently. “I know you were trying to protect us. Kanan just gets nervous when someone uses the Force in a way he’s not familiar with.”

Nix didn’t respond. She kept her eyes on her screen. Ezra sighed and decided to shift the subject. He leaned in a little, curious.

“So… what are you watching?”

Nix looked up slowly, almost like the question had caught her off guard. After a brief pause, she gave a slight shrug and the faintest hint of a smile.

“Just an old show. When I was an Acolyte, a few of us used to watch it when the Overseer wasn’t paying attention.”

Ezra smiled at that and leaned on the table. “Mind if I watch with you?”

Nix studied him for a moment, then silently slid the datapad a little closer to him. Her smile was small, but it was genuine.

Ezra sat next to her, leaning in to get a better look at the screen. The show was odd—filled with strange characters, time travel paradoxes, and unpredictable plot twists—but somehow, that made it more interesting. Every few minutes, Ezra asked questions, and Nix answered with quiet amusement. Before long, they were deep in a lively discussion, the earlier tension forgotten.

The rest of the trip back to Atollon passed quickly. The Ghost touched down on the base just as Ezra and Nix were finishing another heated debate about the bizarre series that had helped pass the time.

“I still think the whole space-time travel thing is the craziest part,” Ezra said with a laugh as they walked down the ship’s rear ramp onto solid ground.

“It’s a fantasy show,” Nix replied with a slight smile. “It’s supposed to sound crazy.”

Sabine, passing by and overhearing them, stopped with a curious look. “What are you two talking about?”

Ezra turned to her with a grin. “Just this weird show we watched on the way back.”

Sabine raised an eyebrow. “Right… sounded interesting,” she said with a smirk. Then her gaze shifted to Nix, her tone softening slightly. “How are you feeling, Nix? You kind of scared all of us when you passed out like that.”

Nix brushed a white strand of hair from her face and hesitated before replying. “I’m okay. Thanks for asking. I just… I think I need to reconnect with the Force again. Maybe even start over.”

Sabine nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t know as much about the Force as Ezra or Kanan… but maybe you just need time.”

“Probably,” Nix said with a quiet sigh and a faint smile.

Sabine watched her for a moment, then a thought sparked in her eyes. “You know, whenever I need to clear my head or sort through things, I find that training helps. Nothing too serious—just something to focus on. Maybe you’d wanna join me?”

Nix gave her a skeptical look. “You want me to spar with a Mandalorian?”

“Why not?” Sabine grinned. “We can keep it clean—no Force, no weapons. Just technique and skill.”

Nix considered the offer, looking unsure for a second. Ezra watched the two of them with a quiet smile, waiting to see what she’d say. He noticed the hesitation on Nix’s face slowly shift into a faint, determined grin.

“Alright,” she said at last, returning Sabine’s smile. “But I don’t have much experience fighting without the Force… or weapons.”

“No problem,” Sabine said cheerfully, nodding toward an open area nearby. “Let’s see what you’ve really got.”

Ezra shook his head with a grin and followed after them, curious to see how it would turn out.

Sabine and Nix made their way to a wide, empty area usually used for unloading supplies. They stood facing each other as Sabine began stretching her arms and bouncing lightly on her feet. Nix quietly shrugged off her jacket so it wouldn’t restrict her movements.

“Alright, rules are simple,” Sabine said calmly. “No Force. Just pure technique.”

“Got it,” Nix nodded, loosening her shoulders. “Fighting a Mandalorian. This is going to go great.”

Ezra leaned against a nearby crate, watching with interest as the two girls took their stances. Sabine gave Nix a playful glance and smirked.

“Get ready. I’m not going easy on you just because you’re the new girl.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” Nix replied with a teasing smirk, settling into a confident fighting stance.

The two girls sized each other up for a brief moment—then launched forward at once, ready for their sparring match.

They closed the distance in quick steps, both prepared to counter the other’s first move. In an instant, the duel began—fast, intense, and surprisingly even.

Sabine struck first with a sharp blow aimed at Nix’s side, but Nix blocked it with ease and retaliated with her own attack, which Sabine barely managed to deflect. It was immediately clear that both of them were highly trained fighters. Every movement was precise, every strike calculated. Their fluid footwork and quick reflexes revealed years of discipline and hard practice.

Despite everything she’d been through lately, Nix moved with surprising confidence and speed. But Sabine wasn’t fazed. With a few graceful maneuvers, she forced Nix to back off a few steps. Both were breathing faster now, but their faces wore genuine smiles—it was clear they were enjoying the challenge.

Nix lunged again, trying to catch Sabine off guard with a spinning move, but Sabine read her intention in time and sidestepped smoothly.

“You’re good!” Sabine said between strikes, launching a quick combo in return.

“So are you,” Nix replied, barely parrying in time. It was a constant push and pull, each girl trying to find the other’s weakness—but neither had the upper hand. For several minutes, the duel looked more like a fierce dance than a fight. But eventually, Sabine managed to break Nix’s rhythm. With a swift step forward and a perfectly timed maneuver, she swept Nix off balance and brought her down.

Nix hit the ground hard, landing flat on her back on the cold surface dusted with fine sand. For a second, she lay still—then started laughing softly as she pushed herself up.

“Okay,” she said between breaths, brushing sand off her hands. “That last move was fast. Gotta give you that.”

Sabine offered her a hand with a grin and gave her an approving nod. “I’ll admit—you surprised me.”

“We’re gonna have to do this more often,” Nix said with a crooked smile. “I need to get back in shape.”

“Agreed,” Sabine replied. “I could use a real challenge.”

Ezra walked up, eyeing them both with a wide smile. “I never thought I’d see the two of you sparring like that.”

Nix just shook her head and let out a soft laugh.

But for the first time since waking up in this strange new era, she felt genuinely okay. For the first time since opening her eyes on an unfamiliar planet surrounded by strangers, she started to feel like maybe—just maybe—she could belong here.

Chapter Text

Darkness.

A deep, endless black stretched out in every direction.

Then, with the familiar flicker and hum of old, cold lighting, the darkness gave way—dim lamps blinked to life, revealing stone walls around Nix. The air was heavy and cold, but strangely familiar.

Before her stood a tall, imposing figure—her master, Darth Elkazar. He looked exactly as she remembered him: long black hair pulled back into an elegant braid, framing a crimson face adorned with gold ornaments. His fiery orange eyes glinted in the weak temple light. He wore his favorite black coat, lined with red embroidery and gold thread, concealing the Sith armor beneath.

“Remember this, my apprentice,” his voice echoed, low and resonant. “A Sith is not defined by title or power, but by the choices they make. The world is not meant to be divided into light and dark.”

“What…?”
Nix wanted to ask a thousand questions, but before she could speak, the vision began to collapse. The walls crumbled, voices turned to echoes, everything unraveling around her. Just before she slipped back into the void, a second voice rang out—deeper, more mysterious:

“The future is not a river to carry us. It is the ocean in which we drown, if we are not prepared.”

Then, silence.
Endless and absolute.

Nix jolted awake.

She was back—back in her small, dim room on the Chopper base. Her breath came quickly, chest rising and falling as she grounded herself in reality.
Just a dream.

She lay there for a moment longer, heart still racing. A strange tension gripped her chest—traces of a memory fading like fog in the morning light. Slowly, she sat up on the edge of the bed and flexed her fingers. They tingled uncomfortably, like the Force hadn’t quite decided whether to grant her peace yet.

She reached for her datapad on the nightstand and glanced at the time. Her brow furrowed—briefing. Hera had mentioned it yesterday. She was supposed to be there.

Rising, she splashed cold water on her face and tightened her braids that had loosened overnight. At the mirror, she paused, staring at her own reflection as if hoping it might answer the question that kept whispering in the back of her mind:

What are you even doing here?

No answer came.
She just pulled her jacket over her shoulders, slipped on her usual mask of composure—or at least a decent imitation of it—and headed down the hallway toward the command center.

By the time Nix arrived, the others were already waiting—Hera, Kanan, Sabine, Ezra... and a few more people whose names she either couldn’t recall or had never learned in the first place.

Ezra spotted her and gave her a small, almost imperceptible wave, subtly motioning for her to come stand next to him.

“You okay?” he whispered once she was by his side. “You look a little... distant.”

Nix hesitated, unsure whether to open up.
“I’m fine,” she said quietly. “Just weird dreams.”

“Dreams? Like… visions?” Ezra started to ask, but Nix quickly shook her head. She was just about to explain when a sharp voice cut through the room.

“Am I interrupting something?” Hera shot them both a stern look. Ezra mumbled something in apology, and Hera returned to the briefing.

“Alright. Sabine, Kanan, and Ezra—you’re coming with me. We got a lead on a high-value Imperial transport.”
She turned her attention to Zeb, then glanced at Nix. “And lastly, Zeb, you’ll continue working through the list of old, abandoned bases Rex gave us. We need anything we can find right now—supplies, medicine, spare parts, intel. Take the Phantom. You’ll bring Chopper… and Nix.”

Zeb groaned and rubbed a hand over his forehead, clearly realizing he’d just been handed another headache. He didn’t exactly object, but he definitely wasn’t thrilled.

“Great. You take Ezra away from me and give me the Sith girl instead? How’s that fair?”

Ezra caught the subtle flicker in Nix’s expression. Even though she usually tried to keep a neutral face, for a brief second, he saw it—that little sting from being labeled again.

“Don’t worry about it,” he leaned in and said softly. “He’s like that with everyone.”

Hera continued, unfazed. “I don’t want to hear any complaints, Zeb. She helped out on the last mission. We need to show her how things work here—and see if we can rely on her. Your mission’s perfect for that. Dismissed.”

As if on cue, the group began to break up and head out. Zeb lingered for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh and walking over to Nix.

“Alright,” he grumbled. “But listen—this mission, I’m in charge. And I expect you to follow my lead. Unlike Ezra.”

Nix gave him a calm look—and at his last comment, the corner of her mouth tugged into a slight smirk. She raised her hand in a salute, her voice dry but respectful.

“Yes, Commander.”

“Don’t worry,” Ezra added with an encouraging smile. “Zeb might look scary, but he’s a good guy.”

Nix glanced at him, then gave a small nod.

“Well, we better get moving,” Zeb muttered, glancing around. “Where’s that tin can that’s coming with us?”

Ezra already started to gather his gear, but before leaving, he turned back to Nix one last time. His voice dropped just above a whisper.

“Be careful, okay?”

Nix looked at him.
It wasn’t just concern in his voice—she felt it too. A subtle knot of nerves in her chest, especially with her lightsabers still missing. But instead of letting it show, she offered him a soft smile.

“I’ll be fine.”

Ezra smiled back, though a trace of worry lingered in his eyes. Then he turned and jogged off to join Sabine and Kanan. Nix watched him for a moment longer, then finally followed Zeb.

As they walked toward the Phantom, silence hung between them. Nix glanced over her shoulder—Ezra stood near the Ghost, talking to Hera while Sabine prepped something in the cargo hold. Everything about it looked practiced, familiar… like a crew that knew exactly how to move together.
And she still didn’t feel quite like she was part of it.

Just a few minutes later, they were standing at the ramp of the Phantom. Zeb ran a final check on the nav data and gave a nod to Chopper. Nix, saying nothing, climbed aboard and took a seat by the wall.

The moment the ramp closed and the ship lifted off, she felt something odd—like a piece of herself had stayed behind on the base, something that couldn’t be reclaimed.

Inside the compact space of the Phantom, a strange quiet settled in. Zeb piloted up front, Chopper grumbled occasionally from his dock on the ceiling, and Nix sat back, her gaze unfocused. She glanced over at Zeb, clearly considering something. Finally, after a long silence, she spoke.

“Ezra said you’re a really skilled warrior.”

Zeb looked back briefly, checking if she was being serious.
“Yeah? I hope he didn’t feed you that garbage about how I’m always the first to charge into a fight. That’s not true.”
He paused, then smirked. “Sometimes it’s Sabine.”

“I believe that,” Nix replied with a small smile. “But he also said you fought for your people and…”
She trailed off as her eyes landed on his weapon.
“What kind of weapon is that, anyway? I’ve never seen anything like it. Actually… I’ve never seen anyone like you.”

Zeb turned his head again, and this time, seeing the genuine curiosity in her expression, his eyes lit up a little. He tapped the weapon resting beside him.

“This is a bo-rifle. Traditional Lasat weapon, used by the Honor Guard. Works as a blaster, but it also doubles as a combat staff.”

He hadn’t expected her to be interested—especially not someone like her. He figured she’d be more focused on herself.

But Nix asked a few more questions, curious about the weapon and about Zeb’s species. Slowly, the atmosphere inside the Phantom began to loosen. Nix realized she might actually get along with him. He wasn’t watching her with suspicion, and he didn’t bother to hide what he thought. He was direct—and she liked that.

Zeb told her a bit about his homeworld, Lasan, though it was clear he didn’t enjoy talking about it. But when Nix didn’t push, didn’t ask unnecessary questions, just listened, he kept going. He admitted that sometimes, acting tough was just a way to hold things together

Nix nodded. That, she understood more than she could say.

Silence returned for a while, broken only by the soft beeps of instruments and Chopper’s occasional static-laced muttering. Nix leaned back, arms crossed, and stared out the viewport into open space. For the first time in a long while, she felt no tension. No expectations.
Just… calm.

Zeb finally broke the silence as he adjusted the controls.
“We’re coming up on the target.”

The Phantom dropped out of hyperspace, revealing an old, abandoned base from the Clone Wars era. The metallic structures were heavily worn, but some power still pulsed through the systems. This place had been dead a long time… but not completely.

Nix watched the scene in silence while Zeb expertly guided the Phantom into landing approach.

Chopper grumbled while scanning the area, reporting low energy readings—but no signs of life. The Phantom touched down with a low thud. The air inside the hangar was stale, filled with dust and the scent of rusted metal. Overhead lights flickered intermittently.

“This place is falling apart… but the generators are still online. That’s not exactly normal,” Zeb muttered as he stepped out of the ship.

Nix hopped down from the ramp and took a slow look around. Her eyes drifted over old crates, broken control panels, and scratch marks along the walls. But then she noticed something that didn’t quite fit—a crate with unusual markings carved into it.

“Uh… Zeb?” she called out, walking over to it. “This is supposed to be a military outpost, right?”

Zeb nodded while inspecting a few crates and loading some of them onto the Phantom.
“Yeah, Republic base from the Clone Wars.”

“So… was it normal for soldiers to carve random symbols into their supply crates?” she asked, picking up a small box and trying to open it. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions—three thousand years was a long time, and things probably changed—but she remembered enough to recognize these kinds of markings. Pirates. Or smugglers.

Nix walked over to Zeb and showed him one of the symbols.

“Huh. Looks like some pirates set up shop here,” Zeb said. Chopper beeped something, and Zeb turned toward him and said, “Yeah, that explains why the generators are still running.”

“So they might’ve left something behind,” Nix said, a little more excited now, finally cracking open the small lock on the box. She carefully opened it, only to find a handful of credits inside. Slightly disappointed, she shrugged and slipped them into her pocket.

Zeb scanned the area, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
“What I’m really wondering,” he muttered, eyes still sweeping the dim corridors, “is what made them leave in the first place.” Then he turned back to Nix and Chopper. “We should find the command bridge. If we can get the generators fully online, we might get a better idea of what kind of shape it’s really in. Right now it’s all running on emergency power.”

Nix nodded and followed him. Together, they moved cautiously down a corridor that clearly hadn’t seen traffic in years. The atmosphere wasn’t exactly frightening, but it was heavy—thick with the kind of silence that made every footstep echo just a little too much.

The walls were scarred with age and wear. Metal panels were damaged in places, covered in layers of grime and dust, some bearing deep, jagged scratches. Nix ran her fingers along one such mark, as if trying to read the story it had once told. In other spots, old warning stickers clung to the walls in peeling fragments, their text too faded to decipher.

Most of the doors they passed stood open—not forced, just… left. As if the people here had taken what they needed and left in a hurry.

Zeb moved ahead with surprising ease and caution for someone his size. Nix followed closely, eyes alert, ready to react at any moment. Chopper zigzagged between them, grumbling nonstop in his usual, irritable tone that bounced eerily off the cold metal walls.

Eventually, they reached a large set of automatic doors at the end of a main corridor. But they didn’t open.

Zeb stepped closer and pressed a strong palm against them—nothing. Not even a twitch.
“Well that’s weird,” he muttered, trying again with more force. Still nothing.
He turned to Chopper. “You sure this is the right way?”

Chopper beeped in an irritated burst, followed by a stream of what sounded like sarcastic comments.

“Yeah, love you too,” Zeb grumbled.

“He says the bridge is right behind these doors,” Nix translated, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“I figured,” Zeb sighed. “So we need to get through somehow.”

He looked over at Chopper, who was still beeping his disapproval at the stubborn door.
“Stop complaining and just try to interface with the panel.”

Chopper paused, dramatically spreading his little arms in a “why me?” gesture, before finally scooting over to the wall panel and getting to work. Nix watched him quietly, then shifted her gaze to Zeb, who was now tapping impatiently on the doorframe with his fingers.

“What exactly are we looking for here?” she asked, eyes still following the droid.

“Well,” Zeb said thoughtfully, “first we need to figure out what still works. Once we get the power back up, it'll be easier to search the place—and see if anything useful was left behind.”

Suddenly, Chopper let out a series of excited beeps as the doors groaned and began to creak open—but they only moved halfway before grinding to a halt.

“Great,” Zeb muttered with an ironic grin, eyeing the narrow gap.
Nix slipped through without trouble, but when she turned around, she saw Zeb awkwardly struggling to squeeze his bulky frame through the tight space.

“Fantastic,” he repeated, deadpan, trying to wedge himself between the doors. When that failed, he growled, planted his feet against the floor, and began forcing the doors apart with brute strength. The metal groaned in protest, but eventually gave way with a jolt, opening wide enough for him to push through.

“That’s one way to do it,” Nix said with a smirk, barely holding back a laugh.

Once they were all inside the command bridge, the room ahead was shrouded in shadows. Faint red emergency lights blinked on and off, casting a dull glow over dusty control consoles. A few screens still flickered dimly, giving the impression the room had been waiting—silent and untouched—for someone to return. On the central display, a static-filled interface lingered on an open database. Someone had clearly been searching for something before leaving.

Chopper rolled straight to the main terminal and eagerly began plugging in, scanning through the systems as the controls slowly powered back to life.

Nix stepped over to one of the side consoles, brushing off a thick layer of dust. Beneath her fingertips, she felt the faint pulse of dormant electronics trying to reawaken.

Zeb crossed his arms and glanced around with narrowed eyes.
“Something’s off here,” he muttered. “When pirates find something, they usually loot it clean or trash the place completely. But this?” He swept a hand toward the largely intact room. “Everything’s still here. Why?”

The silence that followed was broken only by Chopper’s impatient beeping.
Nix focused on the data now scrolling across her screen—most of the security protocols were listed as deactivated. But then her eyes locked onto one entry. Its status flickered—changing from DORMANT to ACTIVE.

Chopper suddenly shrieked an urgent string of alarms.

Nix turned sharply. “What’s wrong, Chopper?” she asked, her voice tense.
The droid waved his arms frantically at the screen, the urgency in his electronic voice making it clear—something was wrong.

“What do you mean?” Nix asked again, taking a step toward him.

But then it hit her—that strange shift in the air. A sudden pressure. A whisper at the edge of her awareness, warning her that they weren’t alone. But her connection to the Force was still fractured and weak—so the warning came too late.

She turned just in time to catch a glimpse of something—heavy, metallic—moving fast.

The impact slammed straight into her chest, sending her flying across the room. She hit the far wall with a brutal crack, her back slamming against cold metal before she slid to the ground.

Pain erupted through her body like fire. For a moment, she couldn’t move.

But she was still conscious—just barely. Through the haze of agony, she saw it.

A towering pirate battle droid was standing over her. Its mechanical face glowed with red lights, and its eyes burned with a cold, merciless gleam.
The droid raised its arm—blaster aimed directly at her chest.

“NIX!”
She heard Zeb’s shout from across the room—but it was too late.

Nix watched in horror as the barrel of the droid’s blaster began to glow, charging up for a deadly shot aimed straight at her.

“Not happening, you tin can!”

In the blink of an eye, a large figure threw itself between her and the droid. Zeb’s bo-rifle lit up, unleashing a rapid burst of blaster fire. The bolts slammed into the droid’s chest, making its entire frame shudder and spark—until it finally collapsed in a smoking heap.

Zeb rushed to Nix, grabbed her arm, and hauled her to her feet. His eyes were focused, but there was a tightness in his voice.
“I think we’d better get outta here.”

Nix shook her head, trying to clear the haze of pain. She felt warm blood trickling from a cut on her temple, but it didn’t matter now. They had to fight. She met Zeb’s eyes and gave a silent nod.

More droids were coming online.

The base echoed with metallic rumbling as units emerged from the shadows, their glowing red eyes locking onto them. This wasn’t just a handful of guards.
This was a full defensive army.

Zeb raised his bo-rifle, ready for combat. Nix’s eyes darted around the room in search of anything she could use. In the corner of the hallway, she spotted a heavy steel rod—probably part of an old console. She pulled it to her—far from ideal, but better than nothing.

Zeb gave her a sideways glance and snorted.
“A stick? Seriously?”

“Next time, speak up for me and maybe they’ll give me at least one of my sabers back. Now it's better than nothing.”
But as the first droid lunged at her, she swung with all her strength. The metal clanged loudly against the droid’s head. It staggered slightly… but stayed upright.

“I take it back. It’s not better than nothing,” she said quickly, ducking just in time to avoid a counterstrike.

Zeb stepped forward, blasting the droid into scrap with one powerful shot.
“Yeah. No, the stick is definitely a top-tier weapon. Super effective,” he deadpanned.

Nix shot him a glare and tossed the rod aside. Her gaze locked onto the next group of incoming droids.
She could feel something shift inside her.
Her connection to the Force wasn’t strong—wasn’t steady—but it was there. And she knew she couldn’t hold back, not like this. Not again.

Zeb was lining up another shot when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nix raise her hand.

One of the droids lifted off the ground—hovering for a moment before she flung her arm sideways. The droid slammed into the wall with a deafening crash.
She turned toward another, thrusting her hand forward. The next droid launched through the air like a piece of scrap metal.

“Okay, that’s way better than the stick,” Zeb said with a grin, dropping a few more droids with clean shots from his bo-rifle.

Nix allowed herself a brief smile—but stayed locked in. Zeb laid down cover fire, clearing a path forward while Nix used the Force to knock back, disable, and throw them one after another out of their way.

Step by step, they fought their way closer to the ship.

Heavy droid footsteps and blaster fire echoed through the hangar. Nix, Zeb, and Chopper sprinted toward the Phantom as bolts rained down around them. Zeb was in the lead, Chopper clattering close behind him on his mechanical wheels.

But Nix stopped. She could feel it—her body charged with energy. She raised a hand. One of the droids lifted off the ground and, with a single motion, she hurled it into a group of others.

More were rushing toward her.

She spun, lifted both hands—and two more droids were flung back into the wall with a crash, their metal frames warping from the impact.

This wasn’t just defense anymore. She was enjoying it.

She felt the Force pulsing through her—alive, hot, wild. She could feel every movement, every impact. For the first time in so long, she felt in control.

“Get your ass on board or I’m leaving without you!” Zeb shouted behind her, urgency cutting through the chaos.

Nix froze for a second. The smile on her face flickered. She turned toward Zeb, already standing on the ramp of the powered-up Phantom, motioning her in with a wave. Chopper beeped angrily from behind him.

She realized she’d gotten a little… carried away. But was that really so bad? For a moment, she’d felt like herself again.

With one last flick of her wrist, she unleashed a burst of lightning into another cluster of droids—then finally took off running for the ship.

The hangar was fading behind them now. The droids couldn’t follow any farther, and the tension began to lift.

Nix collapsed into a seat, her head still throbbing from the earlier hit. The room spun briefly—but this time, she didn’t black out. Small victory. And honestly… she felt good.

Zeb glanced over at her. A few hours ago, he hadn’t been sure what to make of her. But now? He’d seen her fight. And he respected that. Maybe she wouldn’t be such a bad teammate after all.

“By the way… thanks,” Nix said softly, looking his way. “For covering me back there.”

Zeb blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. “Yeah, don’t mention it,” he muttered—more surprised than he let on. The honesty in her voice had hit harder than any of the lightning.

Chopper let out a final grumble as the Phantom banked and headed back toward Atollon.

Chapter Text

Evening on Atollon brought a calm that stood in stark contrast to the tension of the day. Nix, back from the mission with Zeb and Chopper for some time now, still felt the echoes of their encounter—both in the dull ache pulsing at her temple, and in something deeper. Where the Force had once flowed through her like a vast ocean, now there was only a dim, muted ripple. Weak. Unstable.

She needed to change that. Not for them—for herself.

She’d chosen one of the more remote landing pads at the edge of the base. It was empty, half-forgotten, filled with shadow and silence. Perfect for focus. With a bit of reluctant help from a grumbling Chopper, she’d set up a simple training: a few scattered spare parts, a makeshift arena, and a light metal rod in place of a lightsaber. Her weapons still hadn’t been returned, but that didn’t matter. This wasn’t about combat. Not really.

She tied a strip of black cloth around her eyes. The world fell into darkness.

“All right, Chopper,” she murmured, focused. “Let’s do this.”

The droid let out a grumble like a sulking child, then began to move. For a moment it looked like he might take it seriously, but then he extended one mechanical arm and enthusiastically tossed the first chunk of metal into the air. It whizzed past Nix’s shoulder and clattered to the ground.

Chopper chirped, clearly pleased with himself.

Nix inhaled slowly, closing her mind as well as her eyes. She wasn’t listening for sound. She was listening for rhythm—for the vibration of the air. The Force. She felt the faint tension of threads connecting her to the space around her, delicate as spider silk. But it was distorted. Blurred. Instead of a clean, steady current, all she could sense were distant, underwater echoes.

Another piece flew. Smaller, faster. Nix struck out blindly and caught it mid-air with her rod. The object spun off to the side and ricocheted off a storage crate. A hit.

Inhale. Exhale. Another.

A third. A fourth. Her reactions sharpened, her body began to move on instinct. Her arms acted before thought, yet a few of the pieces still struck her—one to the shoulder, another grazing her side. Each time, Chopper chuckled gleefully, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

But Nix didn’t react. Despite the tension, she kept trying to listen. Trying to feel. And yet… all she felt was quiet. Not the kind that soothed. The kind that unsettled.

Then something shifted.

A flash through the Force. Not metal. Not movement. A presence. Familiar, gentle—not threatening.

Nix relaxed her grip and slowly straightened. “Ezra,” she said quietly, not bothering to remove the blindfold. Her voice was calm, but beneath the surface her thoughts still churned—concentration frayed by doubt. “How long have you been watching?”

Soft laughter came from just a few paces away, followed by footsteps approaching slowly. “Long enough to notice that Chopper is trying to hit you on the head… and he's actually enjoying it.”

Chopper grumbled in protest and spun in place with exaggerated offense.

Nix smiled faintly, then finally pulled off the blindfold and looked at Ezra. He stood only a few steps away, hands in his pockets, relaxed in posture—but there was something uneasy in his eyes. Fatigue, maybe. Or concern.

“How’d your mission go?” she asked softly. There was a slight hesitation in her voice—an attempt to steer the conversation away from herself.

Ezra shrugged. “Pretty quiet. Nothing too crazy. But I heard things got a little… interesting on your end.”

“Mhm,” Nix exhaled and glanced at the rod in her hand. “Unfortunately, we…” she paused for a beat, then added dryly, “Chopper… accidentally triggered some kind of defense mechanism.”

The droid chirped again, this time with an air of feigned innocence.

“But…” she added, her voice shifting into something quieter, more vulnerable, “my connection to the Force… it’s not what it used to be. It’s weak. Sometimes it feels like just an echo of what I once knew. I can’t rely on it.”

Ezra didn’t respond right away, but his gaze grew more thoughtful. After a moment, he nodded. “When I first started training, I felt the same way. It was like I was standing at the edge of deep water, not sure if I could swim. Kanan helped me a lot. Well… once he figured out how to be a teacher.”

Nix looked at him, her expression a mixture of doubt and something close to trust. She nodded slowly. “I had support too. At the academy, we trained in groups. Then there was my master. There was always someone guiding me. And now…” She paused. “Now it’s just me.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Ezra offered, his smile softening. “What if we trained together?”

Nix laughed—genuinely this time. “I’ve never trained with a Jedi before.”

“Could be fun,” Ezra shrugged. “I’ve got a few tricks Kanan taught me.”

“Think he’ll mind?” she asked, quieter now. “Kanan still looks at me like I’m going to murder everyone in their sleep.”

Ezra waved a hand. “That’s just how he is. Don’t worry, I’ll handle him. And anyway—he’s probably deep in meditation. Somewhere in the middle of the desert. Again.”

Nix didn’t respond right away, just gave him a soft, almost grateful smile and met his eyes in a way that said more than words ever could.

Chopper, who had been listening the whole time, made a final series of offended noises, spun on his axis, and rolled off in a huff, clearly displeased that his fun was over.

Ezra smirked. “So, you wanna keep going?”

Nix raised an eyebrow. “Right now?”

“Why not? I’ve got nothing else to do,” he said, flashing a playful grin. “Come on, before I change my mind.”

She hesitated, then smiled, half in disbelief, half in amusement—and nodded. Without another word, they left the base side by side, their footsteps lost in the quiet breeze of the deepening evening.

The sun was sinking toward the horizon, casting the landscape in warm shades of orange. The wind stirred the surface of the Atollon sands, and somewhere in the distance, the base’s generators hummed faintly. Nix stood quietly beside Ezra, soaking in the last rays of the day, and feeling the low hum of tension in the air that neither of them had acknowledged out loud.

“So... why’d we walk this far out?” she finally asked, the corner of her mouth twitching in a small smile as she noticed Ezra rummaging under his jacket.

“Uh... this.” He pulled something out, and it immediately caught her eye—a lightsaber. One of hers. “I figured training with this might not go over too well under Kanan’s nose,” he added with a sheepish grin, then held it out to her.

Nix froze. She stared at it for a long moment, the smile fading from her face. Something shifted in her expression—something softer, more vulnerable than Ezra had ever seen before.

“You seriously wanna give it back to me?” she asked quietly. “A weapon everyone’s terrified I’ll turn against you?”

Ezra just shrugged, smiling. “Maybe that’s exactly why.”

There was no accusation in his voice, no drama. Just honesty. Steady, quiet honesty.

Nix slowly reached out and took the hilt. The moment it touched her palm, it felt right—so familiar it almost hurt. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply.
“Thanks,” she whispered. “Really.”

Ezra didn’t reply, just smiled a little wider. For a while, they stood in silence, something unspoken passing between them—a calm, still moment neither of them felt the need to break.

Then Ezra tilted his head and broke the silence with a crooked smile. “So... you gonna show me what you can do with that?”

Nix glanced at him, a little caught off guard by the shift in tone, but a spark flickered in her eyes. A challenge—not cocky, but curious. Friendly.

Ezra flicked his saber to life. The green blade ignited with a low hum, casting a soft glow across the sand. “Just don’t beat me too bad, okay?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Nix replied, but her voice had that dangerous kind of playfulness.

She thumbed the switch on her lightsaber. The sound was different—lower, heavier. A deep hum rolled through the air as a violet blade emerged with a subtle pulse of energy and a crackle at the edges.

Ezra blinked. “Wait—purple?” He raised an eyebrow. “I thought Sith only used red.”

Nix laughed—an actual laugh. Light and unguarded. Ezra froze. It was the first time he’d heard her sound like that. Free. Real. The sound knocked the breath out of him for a second.

“It was supposed to be red,” she said with a smile. “But I ended up with purple. Elkazar wasn’t thrilled.”

Ezra chuckled, shaking his head. “So even Sith screw up sometimes?”

“Hey,” she grinned, rolling her eyes. “We’re still people, you know.”

She turned her gaze to the lightsaber in her hand, her tone shifting just slightly. “Besides... my other saber is red. Technically, I’ve got the same color combo as Darth Revan. That counts for something.”

Ezra squinted. “Revan? Is that... like... a famous Sith or something?”

Nix sighed and gave him a look of amused disbelief. “That’s a long story.” Still, she continued, absentmindedly twirling her lightsaber. “He was a Jedi who became a Sith, then kind of came back to the light. Sort of. Knew both sides of the Force. Did a bunch of stuff neither the Jedi nor the Sith approved of.”

Ezra stared at her, blinking. “Sounds like someone who’d get along with you.”

“Yeah… I don’t think so,” Nix snorted. “It’s obvious you have no idea who he was.”

Ezra grinned. “Well, you can tell me more sometime.”

She rolled her eyes, but the edge of her lips curled up. “All right, Jedi. Ready?”

Ezra gripped his hilt and nodded. “Get ready to learn a thing or two.”

They took their stances, blades glowing faintly in the dimming twilight. They began to circle, slowly, deliberately. Ezra tracked every shift in her posture—shoulders, wrists, footwork. She moved like wind under tension, light but coiled tight, ready to strike. She reminded him of Ahsoka—not in form exactly, but in flow. Controlled grace with something volatile buried beneath.

They started slow. A few light strikes. Testing each other. Their blades tapped and slid, the rhythm building. But Ezra quickly realized her style was... different. Unpredictable. She didn’t hesitate to step into his space, to throw him off with subtle misdirection, or a flick of her off-hand. She didn’t fight by the book—she fought on instinct.

Ezra adjusted. Responded with the steady precision Kanan had drilled into him. He worked in his own moves—moments of calm, sudden counters. Even caught her off-guard once, forcing her to backstep.

What began as sparring became something else—almost like a dance. A smooth choreography of light and movement, breath and timing. Nix felt her pulse rise, her body loosen. This—this moment, this pace—it felt like home. For once, she wasn’t overthinking. She was just... being.

And Ezra found himself smiling. What had started as a test now felt like something freer. Something exhilarating.

But then, the shift. Both of them froze at the same time.

The Force rippled—soft, but clear. They weren’t alone.

In unison, they deactivated their sabers and turned toward the presence approaching from beyond the dunes.

From the orange-lit horizon, a lone figure was making his way toward them—tall, composed, with squared shoulders and the distinct half-mask that left no room for doubt. Kanan Jarrus.

His steps were quiet but deliberate. The sand muffled his boots, but there was something in the way he approached that broke the balance of the moment. When he came within a few meters, he slowed to a stop. What little of his face was visible looked tight, tense.

“What exactly are you doing out here?” His voice was sharper than he probably meant it to be—more concern than anger, but it hit just the same.

Ezra didn’t flinch. He knew this was coming. “Just training,” he said simply.

Kanan turned his head slightly toward Nix. “And you figured it was a good idea to give her back one of her lightsabers?”

No one answered right away. Nix didn’t look away. She knew Kanan couldn’t see her, but she also knew he was listening to every word. “Yeah, he gave it back to me.”

Kanan said nothing to that. He walked a few steps closer, until he was standing right in front of them. His posture was stiff, guarded, but his voice stayed even. “Ezra… why?”

“Because it’s hers.” Ezra’s tone was calm, steady. “I know you still see Nix as a threat, but—”

“I know you mean well,” Kanan cut in. His tone wasn’t harsh, just thoughtful—like he was weighing something carefully. Then he exhaled slowly. “But a lightsaber is more than metal and plasma. It’s a choice.”

Nix stepped forward just slightly. “And how am I supposed to prove you can trust me? It’s always ‘Sith this,’ ‘Sith that.’ Like I’m nothing more than a label.”

“You’re still a stranger to us,” Kanan said, voice lower now, but still firm. “You can’t expect me to see you as an ally just like that.”

“I’m not asking you to,” she replied, soft but clear. No defiance. Just honesty. “I just want a real chance.”

There was silence. Just the wind stirring grains of sand between them.

Finally, Kanan gave the faintest nod. “I’ll trust Ezra. You can keep the lightsaber. But I’ll be watching.”

“Of course you will,” Nix said with a calm shrug. “Spoken like a true Jedi.”

Ezra watched the exchange in silence. He wanted to say something to break the tension, to bring the moment back down—but he knew better. This was something that needed to hang in the air a little longer.

Kanan turned, but paused before leaving. “When you’re done out here, head back to the base.”

And then he disappeared into the shadows of Atollon, as quietly as he’d arrived.

Nix lowered her gaze and let out a breath. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

Ezra looked at her, surprised by the apology and shook his head, smiling faintly. “It was my call.”

Her eyes softened. “Thanks… for sticking up for me.”

“Always,” he said, just as quietly.

They walked back in silence, side by side, while the sky above them darkened into night and the desert cooled under the weight of the stars.

They returned to the base in silence. The tension between them was heavy, almost tangible, as if the air itself knew something unpleasant was coming. No one said a word—they didn’t have to. When they arrived, Kanan was already waiting, leaning against the hull of the parked Ghost. With a curt nod, he gestured for them to follow. Nix paused at the ramp.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said quietly, not looking at anyone.

“Stay,” Kanan replied, his voice calm but laced with authority. “This is about you, too.”

She hesitated, then stepped inside without another word. Ezra gave her a brief, encouraging glance, but the tension lingered thick in the air. Before anyone could speak, Hera entered the lounge.

“Something going on?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Kanan nodded without turning to face her. “Actually... glad you’re here.”

Then he turned his full attention to Ezra, direct and sharp. “What were you thinking, giving her a lightsaber? Do you even realize how dangerous that was?”

Ezra didn’t flinch. “It’s hers,” he answered, steady and sure. “Nix has been helping us. She’s trying. She hasn’t hurt anyone.”

“Not yet,” Kanan pressed, tilting his head slightly in Nix’s direction. “But this isn’t about what she’s done. It’s about who she is. She’s a Sith. Raised to serve the Dark Side. Or do I need to remind you what happened the last time you trusted someone like her?”

“Oh, here we go,” Nix cut in quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “Still talking about me like I’m not even here. Like I’m just a problem to be handled. A threat that needs to be controlled.”

Kanan slowly turned to face her. “Nix, I know you’re trying—”

“No, you don’t,” she said, her voice breaking. “You’ve been trying to shove me into the same box since day one. Sith. Dark Side. Danger. But you’ve never asked why. Why I became what I am. It’s not that simple.”

Kanan fell silent. Hera watched him closely, but said nothing. Ezra stood quietly at Nix’s side.

Nix drew a shaky breath. Her voice wavered, barely holding back the tide. “You think I wanted to be a Sith? I was supposed to be a Jedi. My mother tried to send me to the Order—not out of love. I was... a mistake. I didn’t fit in her perfect world. And you know what your precious masters said?”

Ezra noticed the faint flicker of blue sparks dance across her fingers—thin, like threads of lightning, barely visible under the dim lights. She didn’t seem aware of it, focused only on her words.

“They said I was too unstable. No discipline. So they left me in the hands of someone who would've sold me or dumped me in the streets. I was a kid. And if Elkazar hadn’t...”

She paused for a moment. Her voice was no longer angry. Just tired. Wounded. Honest. Ezra watched as her hands slowly curled into fists. The sparks faded. The Force fell quiet again.

“And now I’m here. And all I hear is how dangerous I am. Because of what I was taught. Maybe you should’ve just left me frozen on Malachor.”

The silence that followed was deep and raw. Kanan, Hera, and Ezra all looked at her, but none spoke.

“You Jedi love calling yourselves chosen by the Force. But is it really the Force choosing, or just you? How many kids were left behind so the Jedi could keep playing gods?”

Kanan started to speak, but she raised a hand.

“No. Don’t. I’m a Sith—sure. I don’t know how many you’ve actually met. Or what they’re like now. But don’t judge me for what someone else did.”

She turned sharply and walked out, the doors sliding shut behind her with a soft hiss.

For a long moment, no one said anything. Hera stood still, then turned toward Kanan. Without a word, she placed a hand on his shoulder—firm but gentle. Her gaze was calm, steady, and full of quiet understanding.

“We took her in, Kanan,” she said at last. “We can’t keep seeing her only through fear.”

Kanan remained still, but Hera felt the subtle shift in him under her hand. Something in him softened.

Ezra, meanwhile, stared at the doors where Nix had disappeared. He didn’t say a word, but Hera could read the intent in his expression.

“I need to go after her,” he said quietly, firmly.

Hera nodded, offering a soft smile. “Go.”

He didn’t wait. With one last glance at Kanan—quiet and pleading—Ezra turned and hurried after Nix.

Silence settled over the room once more, deeper now.

Hera stayed by Kanan’s side, her hand still resting on his shoulder.

“She’s not our enemy,” she said again, her voice low but full of weight. “Nix is still learning how to fit in.”

Kanan took a slow breath, lost in his own thoughts. After a long pause, he shook his head, weary.

“I know,” he murmured. “I... let fear guide me. Not because of her. Because of Ezra.”

Hera glanced down, then let out a small, knowing smile. “Still thinking about that vision, huh?”

Kanan gave a tired nod. “I couldn’t tell if someone hurt him... or if he changed on his own. And now—with someone like her around...”

“You should give them a chance,” Hera said gently but firmly. “Maybe there’s darkness in her. But Ezra sees more than that. If you can’t trust her, at least try trusting him.”

Kanan bowed his head. “I’ll need time to think,” he murmured.

And then, once again, the silence closed in—quiet, heavy, and full of everything Nix had left behind.

As soon as Nix stepped off the ship, everything just hit her at once. Her shoulders slumped, breath catching halfway like it didn’t know if it should go in or out. Everything she’d been holding back—anger, frustration, sadness—came crashing down all at once. And under it all, fear. That maybe she'd never really fit anywhere. That she’d always be on the outside looking in.

Her hands clenched into fists without thinking. A thin crackle of lightning snapped from her fingers, shooting into the shadows behind the Ghost and slamming into a stack of empty crates. One of the boxes burst open, scattering plastic shards across the deck.

She froze. The guilt hit her instantly, sharp and cutting. She stared at the wrecked crate like she didn’t even recognize the power that had come from her own body.

“No... this is exactly what they’re waiting for,” she muttered. Her hands stayed tight, then moved up to press against her temples like she could physically push the chaos out of her head.

She turned and walked off, away from the landing pad, away from the ship, away from all of it. “Stay calm... stay calm… stay the fuck calm...” she whispered under her breath, her boots crunching through the sand. Her legs carried her on autopilot until she found herself at one of the lookout terraces. She leaned against the railing and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Zar’za,” she hissed in her native tongue, biting her lip hard. She knew what happened when she lost control, and she couldn’t let it get that far.

She needed something—anything—to snap her out of it.

She started to sing one of her favorite songs, barely a whisper. “'Cause I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby… yeah I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby… listen to Iron Maiden maybe…”

The lyrics were stupid. And simple. But they grounded her, even if just for a second. Like a reminder of a time when life had been less complicated. When she’d still believed there was a place she could belong.

Footsteps crunched behind her. She didn’t turn. She didn’t have to.

“Ezra…” she said quietly. “What’re you doing here?”

“Wanted to check on you,” he replied, his voice low, careful. He didn’t come too close. Just enough to be there.

Nix didn’t answer right away. She finally glanced back at him over her shoulder, her voice a bit sharper now. “You don’t have to. I'm not gonna blow anything up.”

He gave her a small shrug, sitting down on one of the nearby crates. “Yeah, well… maybe I didn’t come to stop you. Maybe I just didn’t wanna let you sit in this alone.”

She looked away. “They’re never gonna accept me,” she said, nodding back toward the landing zone. “But they’re not gonna let me leave either. Feels like I’m stuck in limbo.”

Ezra didn’t argue. Just sat there.

“Y’know,” she went on after a beat, folding her arms tightly across her chest, “every Sith got their weak spot. That one thing that messes with their head. That’s what makes people fall to the dark side. Some want power, some want revenge, some just wanna protect someone they love.” She paused, then added quietly, “Me? I just hate being alone. That’s it. I just… wanna belong somewhere.”

Ezra felt a pang of recognition. That need. That ache. His eyes softened as he looked at her.

“I don’t get how anyone handles it,” she said. “The silence. The empty space. It’s like this poison that just… eats away at you. Starts making you wonder if you’re even real anymore. If anyone would notice if you were gone.”

He swallowed. “Yeah. I’ve been there,” he said quietly. “After I lost my parents… it was just me for a long time. Thought that’s how it was always gonna be. Then Hera and Kanan showed up.”

She finally turned and sank down beside him, letting herself breathe again.

“Must’ve taken a while to get them to trust you,” she said.

He smiled a little. “Took longer with Zeb. But yeah. It was worth it. They’re my family now.”

They sat in silence for a bit, just listening to the breeze and the soft hum of the base in the distance. Nix eventually spoke again, her voice softer this time.

“Kanan… kind of reminds me of Elkazar,” she said.

Ezra blinked. “Your master?”

“Yeah.” She looked off into the dark. “Not how he talks or looks or whatever. Just… the way he looks at you. Like he’d do anything to keep you safe. Elkazar was like that too.”

Ezra leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “So, you think Kanan’s trying to protect me?”

“Pretty sure of it,” Nix said. “He’s scared. I can feel it. Might not even know it himself. Jedi spend so much time trying to bury their emotions that when they finally feel something real, it hits like a thunderstorm.”

She twined her fingers in her lap. “And I don’t think he’s scared of me. Not really. I think he’s scared of what I might do to you. Scared I’ll drag you down with me.”

Ezra was quiet for a moment, more serious now. “Yeah… I think you might be right. I’m not sure he ever stopped seeing me as that kid he had to keep on a leash.”

“And then I show up,” Nix said, almost laughing, “and suddenly, the leash needs to get shorter.”

Ezra smirked. “Kanan’s terrified of the dark side. For him it’s all or nothing. Light or dark. No middle.”

Nix gave a tired smile. “Yeah, we had that too. Either you’re strong or you’re useless. Either you’re in control… or someone’s controlling you. Nobody ever asked how you felt. And if they did, it was just to use it against you.”

Ezra looked at her sideways, hesitant. “That sounds… a lot like Maul. But you’re not like that.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Just… real. The kind that fills space when words run out but connection stays.

“Does it even matter?” she said at last. “I don’t belong anywhere. Not with the Sith, not the Empire… and definitely not with you guys.”

Ezra didn’t answer right away. He just reached over and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re not alone, Nix,” he said quietly. “You’ve got me. And the rest? Yeah, they don’t all trust you yet. But you’ll get there. I had to earn it too. Wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. And I think you’ll get there too. If you want it.”

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Thanks.”

They stayed like that for a long while, shoulder to shoulder, under the stars scattered across the Atollon sky—silent and still, with something new and fragile growing between them in the dark.

Chapter Text

Nix felt the cold floor under her feet, the subtle hum of the ship’s engines, and the low thrum of energy pulsing through metal walls. It was all so familiar. Comfortably familiar.

She stood aboard her master’s flagship—the one Darth Elkazar commanded. A datapad rested in her hands, filled with supply manifests she was double-checking. It was a routine task, the kind Elkazar used to assign her when he wanted to drill discipline into her. She’d hated it back then. But now? There was something strangely soothing about it.

“Weapon requisitions... confirmed,” she mumbled to herself as she scrolled to the next data field. The command deck looked exactly the way she remembered—cold, efficient, regal. Holo-projectors, dark glass, red lighting. Everything in its place. Too perfect.

Then, suddenly—it all went dead.

Like someone had cut a wire in the silence. The datapad flickered and shut off. Lights on the walls blinked out. The engines went quiet. Nix stood frozen in the center of the now pitch-black room, swallowed by darkness.

She held her breath.

“Master?” she called out into the silence.

No answer.

She took one step forward—and felt... nothing. No floor. Just empty space. The silence grew louder. Heavier. Crushed everything else.

And then came the voice.

“What’s the panic, little Sith? First time having a vision?”

It wasn’t Elkazar. The voice was deep. Calm. But there was something awful lurking beneath that calm—knowledge. Power. And a chilling familiarity.

Nix frowned, spinning instinctively toward the sound, but there was nothing. Just darkness. “What is this? Where am I?”

“Inside yourself,” the voice replied. “You know your way around, don’t you?”

Her muscles tensed. She couldn’t see him—but she knew he was watching. She didn’t need to see him. She already knew who was speaking. The Eternal Emperor. The one who could wipe out fleets—Republic, Sith, didn’t matter—with a flick of his hand.

“Then... Why you?” she asked, barely a breath. “Why not Elkazar?”

A pause. A slow exhale.

“Because Elkazar was never truly your authority. He taught you well—but he didn’t lead you. You led yourself. You always have.”

Her fists clenched. “Then why you, Valkorion? Why do you even care who trained me? You never gave a damn about the old ways. You betrayed everything it meant to be a Sith.”

“And yet, I’m the most powerful Sith you’ve ever heard of,” he said, calmly. “All the others fell. I didn’t.”

She stood still, eyes narrowed, trying to find some logic in all this.

“Why are you here? What do you want?” she asked, voice low.

“To tell you you’re enough.”

“Enough for what?” she asked, already frowning.

“To make sure there’s at least one real Sith left in this galaxy,” came the answer—and this time, there was heat in his voice. Urgency. “Everything you see now is weak. Corrupted. A joke. You’re the last one who still understands the power of the true dark side.”

“But I’m not... I’m not even a Darth. I never finished—”

“Then take the name,” he cut her off, sharp and sudden. “What’re you waiting for? Someone to give you permission? You need someone to hold your hand?”

“I... I don’t know—”

“There’s power in you. So much of it. And you’re holding back. Chaining yourself. Why?” His voice darkened. “Because of them? Because of the Jedi who’s scared of you? Or the boy you’re afraid to show who you really are?”

Nix raised her head. She felt something. Deep in her chest. Heat. Pressure. Power curling up her spine like lightning in her blood. It was strong. Tempting. Too familiar.

“Stop being afraid. Stop holding back,” he said—and this time, it wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command.

The darkness around her cracked.

Red light burst from the ground, wrapping around her, filling her. Everything shattered—image, sound, memory—like she was being torn apart into a thousand sparks of fire.

And then Nix woke up.

She gasped, heart hammering like crazy. It took her a second to realize where she was—in her quarters, on the rebel base, not on some long-lost warship. Her hands were balled into fists, and she could feel faint sparks under her palms—tiny flickers of lightning, fading fast.

She just sat there, alone, in silence.

And one line echoed loud in her mind:

“Stop holding back.”

Morning light spilled lazily over the Chopper base, brushing the dry, dusty terrain in a soft golden haze. The air was still crisp, clean—the kind of morning where the whole world felt like it might be balanced, just for a moment. And yet, inside Nix, everything was twisted in knots.

The vision still echoed in her head. That voice. Those words. The intensity. It hadn’t felt like a dream. It was something else. Deeper. Realer. And way more terrifying.

She walked along the edge of the base with headphones on, as if turning up the volume could drown out the noise in her mind. Her playlist rolled through familiar tracks—songs that helped settle the storm inside her. Anger. Confusion. Fear. That creeping loneliness. Every now and then, she stopped to stare into the distance. She couldn’t see anything. But her thoughts were loud. Kanan’s words. What she’d said to him yesterday. What Valkorion had said to her.

A Sith who never earned her title. An apprentice without a legacy. A girl who was supposed to be a Jedi—but wasn’t good enough, not even for them. And now someone—maybe just the shadow of a long-dead emperor—had told her she was enough. But enough for what? And what would it cost?

“Nix?” came a voice from behind.

She jumped slightly, quickly yanking out her earbuds and turning around. Hera stood a few steps back, calm as always—but there was something new in her expression. Patience. Maybe even a trace of trust.

“Morning, Hera,” Nix said quietly, distracted. Her voice was softer than usual. “Something up?”

Hera gave a small smile and shook her head. “Nothing urgent. I just wanted to talk. We’re heading out on another mission—this time to Naraka. I was hoping you’d come with us. I could use your help.”

Nix hesitated. I could use your help. The words caught her off guard. Her gaze dropped to the ground, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “I… I’m not sure. After yesterday, maybe I should just—”

“Kanan’s staying here,” Hera said gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. “You won’t have to worry about another interrogation. And besides… I think we could all use a fresh start. You too.”

Nix looked up at her. There was no fake sympathy in Hera’s eyes—just quiet understanding. She nodded.

“Okay… yeah.”

“Good.” Hera smiled in relief and motioned for her to follow. “The others are already aboard.”

When they reached the Ghost’s ramp, a cheerful beep echoed from inside—and a second later, Ezra appeared in the upper cargo hold, jumping down with his usual spark in his eyes.

“Nix!” he called brightly when he saw her. “I was starting to think you bailed.”

She couldn’t help but smile, the first real one all morning. Ezra had this way of making everything else blur out when he talked to her. No judgment. Just… there.

“Please,” she said with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Like I’d let you go off alone and do something stupid without supervision.”

Ezra laughed. “Wow. That almost sounded like trust. Progress!”

A sarcastic grunt came from deeper in the ship—Zeb, lounging against a wall with his arms crossed. “Great. Another mission, another disaster waiting to happen.”

Sabine, checking over her blasters nearby, looked up and nodded at Nix. “Glad you’re coming.”

Chopper beeped something unintelligible in response—could’ve meant “hello there” or “oh great, more chaos,” hard to tell. Nix didn’t react. Her focus was somewhere else. The energy in the ship felt different. Maybe it was Hera. Maybe Ezra. Or maybe just… for once, she didn’t feel like someone was just waiting for her to screw up.

The ship hummed to life, lifting smoothly off the landing pad and climbing through Atollon’s atmosphere until space stretched out beyond them.

In the crew lounge, everyone gathered around the round table. Ezra took center stage with a ridiculously serious expression and cleared his throat dramatically.

“Ladies, gentlemen, droids, everyone… I’ve officially been appointed commander of this mission,” he announced proudly.

“Oh no,” groaned Zeb, shaking his head. “We’re doomed.”

Sabine snorted. “How much did you bribe Hera for that honor?”

Nix raised a brow with a small smile. “Congrats. Let’s hope you survive command.”

Ezra looked at her. “Finally, someone recognizes my leadership potential.”

“We’ll see about that,” Sabine said, arms crossed. “So? Where exactly are you leading us, oh mighty commander?”

Ezra moved to the terminal and brought up a holo-map of the planet, a few areas marked in red. “We’re headed to Naraka.”

“Ugh,” muttered Zeb. “Even the air there’s annoying.”

“Yeah, but we’re not going for the air,” Ezra continued, flashing a sly grin. “Someone we know is locked up there. Hondo Ohnaka.”

Nix leaned forward a little. “And he is…?”

“Old pirate. Kind of unpredictable. Always in the wrong place at the worst time… but sometimes useful,” Ezra explained.

“And usually a pain,” Zeb added.

Ezra slid into the seat beside Nix and leaned toward her. “Hera wants you up front with her. If things go sideways, you’re our backup. And if they go really sideways, you come for us.”

“Backup, huh?” Nix smirked. “Guess I’m still not ready for the real deal.”

Before he could answer, Hera’s voice chimed in—this time straight to Nix.

“Nix? Come up here, I need a co-pilot.”

Nix blinked. “Uh… I’ve never flown anything like this. I don’t even know which button does what.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Hera said warmly as Nix stepped into the cockpit. She waved her over. “Come on. Trust me.”

Nix hesitated, then nodded and slid into the seat beside her.

“This lever here? Adjusts stabilizers,” Hera explained, calm and steady, like someone who teaches because they care. “And if it feels scary—well, welcome to daily life.”

Nix laughed softly. And after a moment, as her hands started to glide over the controls more naturally, she felt something she hadn’t felt in a while.

Like maybe… just maybe… she belonged.

It didn’t take long before the Ghost dropped out of hyperspace with a soft shudder. In front of them loomed a dark, grayish-green planet, wrapped in a thin veil of atmosphere that looked more like a constant thunderstorm than anything breathable. Its surface was torn and jagged, carved with deep canyons and harsh rocky spires that looked like the planet had tried to tear itself apart from the inside.

“This is Naraka?” Nix asked quietly, staring at the projection of the looming world.

“Yeah,” Hera nodded, her eyes fixed on the controls. “This is where the Empire sends people it wants to forget.”

“Can’t blame ’em,” Zeb grunted as he stepped into the cockpit. “Looks like a nightmare from orbit.”

“We’re here,” Hera said calmly, though there was a tightness in her voice—focused, alert. “Ezra, get ready for drop-off. We’ve got a pretty tight landing zone.”

The ship glided smoothly into the planet’s atmosphere. The hull vibrated slightly as the Ghost cut through the thick cloud cover, revealing a brutal landscape of narrow ravines and jagged ridgelines. Nestled among them was the Imperial prison—camouflaged in the color of the rock, half-buried in the ground, ringed by tall fences and watchtowers, their searchlights sweeping lazily across the terrain.

Hera guided the ship toward a natural crevice tucked deep between the cliffs—a rocky alcove far enough from detection but close enough for the team to hike the rest of the way without too much trouble. The engines hummed to a halt, and the Ghost settled with a soft thud.

“This’ll keep us hidden. You’ll have to go the rest of the way on foot,” Hera said, glancing back at Ezra.

Ezra nodded, pulling on his gloves as he turned to the others. “Everyone ready?” His voice was calm, but there was a fire in his eyes—focused and sharp.

Sabine checked the explosives on her belt. Zeb grabbed his bo-rifle and gave a short nod. Chopper rolled forward toward the exit, letting out a determined beep.

“Alright,” Ezra said, then turned back toward the cockpit. “Once we’re out, we’ll send the signal.”

Hera gave him a confident smile. “Good luck, Commander.”

As soon as everyone was off the ship, the Ghost lifted quietly back into the sky and vanished beyond the prison’s sensor range. Hera guided the ship across a wide, open plain tucked behind the cliffs, settling it where they had a clean view of the area—but were still well hidden. The cockpit fell into silence, filled only by the low hum of the engines and the occasional soft beep from the console systems.

Nix sat in the co-pilot’s seat, a little tense, but focused. Hera, as always, looked calm and collected.

“So... we just wait now?” Nix asked, mostly to break the quiet.

“We wait,” Hera nodded with a faint smile. Then she glanced over at her. “But since it’s just the two of us, I figured it’s a good chance to talk a bit—if that’s alright with you.”

Nix hesitated. Part of her immediately wanted to shut down, but she took a breath and nodded. “Sure. What do you wanna know?”

“Well...” Hera smiled gently. “What do you think of the crew so far?”

Nix let out a slow breath, the corner of her mouth lifting just slightly. “They’re... different. But there’s something about them. Ezra’s got this weird gift—he always sees the good in stuff. Sabine’s tough, but I get the feeling there’s a lot more going on under the surface. Zeb’s... blunt. But I kinda like that. And Chopper...” she actually chuckled, “...for a droid, he’s got a lot of attitude. And then there’s Kanan. Very Jedi.”

Hera laughed softly. “That tracks. We spend a lot of time together—we’re more than just a crew. We’re a family.”

Nix nodded, but her smile faded a little. “I had something kinda like that once. My master. A few others from the Academy. As Acolytes, we were like a little pack. Some more friendly than others, but... we belonged. And then the war happened…”

The silence stretched for a beat. Hera flipped a couple switches, but then turned back to her.

“And your master? What was he like?”

Nix took her time answering, like she was weighing every word. “I don’t know how much you know about Sith, but... he was different. He had a really unique view of the dark side. Most Sith channel it through stuff like hate or rage. But he taught me to use all my emotions. To understand them. To control them. To accept them—but not let them control me.”

“He sounds... wise,” Hera said, more serious now. “Very different from what I’ve heard about the Sith.”

“He was the exception,” Nix said quietly.

They fell into silence again. Then Nix suddenly turned away from the console, gazing out the viewport toward the desolate expanse of Naraka.

“Hera… do you think I’ll ever get to go on a real mission with you guys?”

Hera looked at her, focused. “You mean, combat?”

“Yeah. I know you brought me along this time, but... I still feel like I’m on the outside. And I get it—distrust, danger, history. But I…” She hesitated. “I want to fight. Not for me. For you. I want to prove I belong here.”

Hera thought about it. Her tone stayed soft, but honest. “Not everyone’s convinced yet. But yeah—I think that time’s coming.”

Nix lowered her gaze, fingers tightening on the armrest. Then, quietly but firmly, she said, “I know I’m kind of... stuck here. And that letting me go would be a risk. But I really do want to help. I want to fight with you guys. Not because I have to... but because I want to.”

Hera looked at her for a long moment. Then slowly, she nodded. “Believe me, Nix... I know.”

A short beep from the comm interrupted them. Hera tapped it without hesitation.

“This is Spectre-6, to Ghost. Change of plans. We need a 44 scoop at the landing platform.”

“On my way, Spectre-6,” Hera replied calmly, a hint of a smile in her voice. She turned to Nix. “Strap in, co-pilot.”

The Ghost surged upward and sliced through Naraka’s heavy atmosphere like a shadow. Hera sat in the pilot’s chair, laser-focused, her hands steady on the controls. Nix sat beside her, scanning the sensors, nerves buzzing—but there was something else there too. Something new. For the first time, she felt like she was part of the crew.

“There they are,” Hera said, tilting the ship down toward the jagged cliffs below. A narrow bridge stretched out ahead, suspended over a massive ravine, connecting a landing platform to the prison complex.

Racing across that bridge were familiar shapes—Ezra, Sabine, Zeb, Chopper… and someone else. A tall, hunched figure in brightly colored clothes. Definitely a Weequay. That had to be Hondo Ohnaka.

The Ghost dropped low, skimming just beneath the bridge. Hera angled the ship with surgical precision, holding it steady as one by one, the crew launched themselves from the platform and landed on the hull. The last one hit the metal with a thud, and Hera pulled the ship sharply away before the stormtroopers behind them could react.

Back inside the Ghost, the kind of buzzing silence that follows a close call filled the corridors—the kind that hums with leftover adrenaline and rising exhaustion. Everyone made their way toward the cockpit, where Hera was already setting a new course.

“Was that Imperial walker helping you?” Hera asked, raising an eyebrow as Zeb and Ezra stepped in.

“Yeah,” Zeb muttered, collapsing into the nearest chair. “Ezra used his Jedi mind trick on the pilot. Pretty wizard, eh?”

Nix glanced at Ezra as he dropped into the seat across from her, his smile a little tired. He met her eyes briefly, nodded in greeting, and then looked to Hera.

“I did what I had to.”

The cockpit doors slid open again, and in strutted Sabine and Hondo—arms wide like he was stepping onto a stage, grin plastered across his face.

“Ah, Captain Syndulla! And I see you’ve picked up a new recruit for your fine crew!” his gravelly voice rang out. “I appreciate the rescue. And, of course, I expect full payment even though Terba tried to betray us.”

Hera frowned. “Wait—who’s Terba?”

“Hondo’s former cellmate,” Sabine said flatly. “Who almost botched the mission. Didn’t make it.”

Hera’s expression sharpened. She turned back to Ezra. “Ezra? Did you know about this?”

Ezra lifted his hands in defense. “Not exactly. But Hondo and I had a deal…”

“Ezra,” Hera cut him off, firmer now. “When it’s your mission, you are responsible for all of the details.”

“I was responsible for what I knew,” Ezra snapped, louder than he meant to. “We went to get Hondo, and here he is.” He gestured toward the smug Weequay and turned to leave. He paused at the door, voice suddenly softer. “I’m sorry about Terba.”

Then he was gone.

Nix had been silent the whole time, watching it all unfold. She caught the flicker in Ezra’s voice, the slump in his shoulders. That wasn’t just guilt. That was frustration. Disappointment. Maybe both.

She turned to Hera, who still sat by the console, staring at the closed door.

“Mind if I...?” Nix asked quietly.

Hera glanced at her, calm and gentle. “Go ahead.”

Nix nodded, rose from her seat, and headed after Ezra. She didn’t know exactly what she was going to say—but she knew one thing for sure. Just like he hadn’t left her alone yesterday… she wasn’t going to leave him alone now.

Nix walked slowly down the Ghost’s dim corridor, the soft lights along the walls casting long shadows on the floor. Her boots barely made a sound. Something about the silence felt… off. Ezra’s face kept flashing through her mind—the way he looked when he left the cockpit. That hadn’t been the usual curious, slightly scatterbrained Ezra. His eyes were distant. His whole posture tight, like something inside him was trying to break out.

She stopped in front of his door. A chill slid down her spine—not from the ship’s air, but from somewhere deep inside. Her hands clenched into fists, and she closed her eyes.

The feeling... it was familiar. Too familiar. Like the cold halls of Korriban Academy were brushing against her skin again. That creeping, quiet kind of darkness. But it didn’t belong here. Not on the Ghost. Not... with Ezra.

She held her breath.

From inside his cabin, a voice—his voice—murmured something.

“They never would have succeeded without me... Don’t they know that?”

Nix froze. The words were soft, almost whispered, but there was something sharp in them. A pull. She stepped closer, fingertips brushing the metal frame of the door, heart pounding harder.

“They can’t see. If they can’t see... I must become stronger. More powerful. I will never let my friends get hurt again.”

His voice still sounded like Ezra—but there was something else underneath. Something bitter. Too focused. Too familiar.

The dark side.

She stayed still for a second. Then raised her hand and knocked gently.

There was a rustle inside. Then: “Hold on!”

A moment later, the door slid open. Ezra stood there, a little disheveled, his smile just a bit too fast to be real.

“Nix,” he said, sounding surprised, but also... guarded. “Hey. Everything okay?”

She tilted her head, studying him, but nodded. “Yeah. I just... wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re alright.”

Ezra let out a breath and looked away. “I’m fine. Just tired of being underestimated.” He stepped back into the room, leaving the door open. “Even Kanan thinks I can’t handle stuff without him. But I know what I’m doing. I know I have to be stronger—for everyone.”

Nix followed him inside, her eyes never leaving his face. She sat down on the edge of his bed, her voice low. “I get that. I used to think Elkazar was holding me back, too. But later I realized... he was scared I’d lose myself. That I’d dive into something I wasn’t ready to control. Maybe Kanan—maybe even Hera—they’re not trying to stop you. They’re just trying to keep you from falling.”

Ezra didn’t say anything at first. He stood with his back to her, fists clenched, then slowly turned around. His eyes were filled with something tangled—pain, frustration... doubt.

“You really think so?” he asked quietly.

“I do,” she said, giving a small shrug. “And I also think you’re turning into a pretty damn good Jedi. Maybe they just need more time to see it.” Nix watched him and studied his reaction. She wanted to see how he would react when she mentioned the word Jedi.

Ezra looked at her, and this time, his gaze was steady. There was gratitude in it—real, honest gratitude.

“Thanks, Nix.”

They stayed in silence for a while, but it wasn’t the uncomfortable kind. It was the kind where words weren’t needed, not right away. The kind that meant they understood each other more than either of them would say out loud.

Ezra exhaled slowly. “Sorry you had to see me like that. It’s just been a lot lately.”

Nix reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. Everyone cracks sometimes. And you were there when I was falling apart… so now it’s my turn.”

He glanced up at her, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That means a lot. More than you know.”

Nix smiled back—soft, steady. “Maybe I do.”

Ghost touched down on the Atollon landing pad with a soft hiss, the landing gear settling against the durasteel surface as the ramp lowered with a quiet groan. The sun was dipping low now, painting the sky in shades of amber and gold, casting long shadows over the rocky ground. Nix was the last to step off the ramp. Her gaze drifted, just for a moment, to the place where she and Ezra had talked earlier that day. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Ezra, you’re reporting to Sato in an hour,” Hera called back over her shoulder. “Don’t be late.”

Nix gave a nod and started to peel off from the group when someone gently caught her arm. She turned. Ezra. His smile was soft, casual—but there was still that flicker in his eyes. That restless edge she’d come to recognize.

“Wanna do another spar?” he asked, and though the words were light, there was something else underneath. Not a need to train—but a need for company. For her.

Nix gave him a small smile. “Yeah. Sure.”

Ezra grinned. “Awesome.”

They headed toward the far edge of the base, just beyond a low rise of stone where the terrain flattened into a sandy clearing. It was quiet, secluded—perfect. The sun was almost gone now, the air cooling fast. Their lightsabers came to life with that familiar hum—green and violet blades casting soft glows over their faces.

They started slow. Easy. Their movements were smooth, familiar, almost like a dance. Nix watched Ezra’s expression—focused, but not tense. He moved well. And for a while, she just let herself move with him.

Then, without warning, he slowed.

“Nix?” he asked quietly, not breaking the rhythm.

“Hmm?” she replied, deflecting a soft swing.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” She took a step back, keeping her lightsaber on but relaxed. “What’s on your mind?”

Ezra hesitated, eyes flicking down for a second. When he looked back up, his voice was low. “I was wondering… how do Sith really see the dark side? I mean, not the horror stories Jedi always tell. The real thing.”

Nix watched him for a beat. There was a flicker in her expression—something between amusement and caution. “Should a Jedi even be asking that?” she asked, her voice light but her eyes sharp.

Ezra shrugged, glancing away for a moment. “I’m just curious. I wanna understand both sides. Like that Revan guy you mentioned.”

“Revan,” she echoed, with a trace of respect in her tone. “He didn’t play by anyone’s rules. That’s probably why he got so far.”

She went quiet for a moment, then powered down her lightsaber. Ezra followed suit without needing to be asked.

“The dark side isn’t just about hate and anger,” she said softly. “It’s about emotion. All of it. Jedi teach you to let go of emotions. Sith teach you to use them.”

Ezra listened, still and focused. This time, the curiosity behind his gaze was more controlled.

“Elkazar taught me that every feeling has value. Anger. Pain. Fear. Even joy. All of it can be power—but you have to be the one steering it. If you let it steer you, it eats you alive.”

Ezra nodded slowly. “What would you say the biggest difference is?”

Nix tilted her head. “If I had to sum it up? Jedi stay out of the deep water—they never learn to swim. So when they fall in… they drown fast. That’s why even a Master Jedi can lose it and fall hard. The dark side gives you this… surge, this rush of power when you’re mad or desperate. And if you’ve never learned how to handle that? Yeah. It gets dangerous real quick.”

Ezra was quiet for a moment, chewing on her words. “Makes sense,” he said finally. “And... explains why some Sith totally lose it.”

Nix let out a small laugh, but it didn’t sound happy. “Yeah. Growing up Sith is like learning to tightrope walk over a pit. You learn where to step, what’s safe. One wrong move, though... and you fall. And climbing back up? Not so easy.”

Ezra suddenly glanced at his wrist chrono and muttered a quiet curse.

“Briefing…” he mumbled. “I gotta go.”

Nix gave him a playful look and reignited her lightsaber for a split second before powering it down. “Go. I’ll find something to do.”

He turned to leave, but paused at the edge of the clearing. Glanced back at her. His eyes still held questions—but this time, he didn’t ask. He just smiled. And walked away.

Nix stayed behind, staring off into the darkening sky. Her mind was spinning, thoughts tangled like wires. Because what she felt back on the Ghost… and what she’d just seen in his eyes… That wasn’t just curiosity. It was hunger. A craving for power.

And Nix knew that feeling way too well.

The sun was sinking low, casting long orange shadows over the cracked ground and the metallic hulls of parked ships. Nix had been spending the late afternoon near one of the smaller service bays, helping Sabine with some busted components. Or—more accurately—carrying tools and asking too many questions while Sabine had her head buried in a half-melted panel.

“So wait, this is like… a shield amplifier, but with a janky layout?” Nix asked, turning the component in her hands and peering at the inside.

“Exactly,” Sabine replied without looking up. “But it’s an ancient model. I gotta rework the wiring or it'll catch fire before it even powers up.”

Nix gave a small grin. She’d grown to really like Sabine over the last few days. She didn’t care about the past—just the gear. Being around her felt... easy.

That ease didn’t last.

Nix felt it first. A strange prickle at the base of her neck. Like static. Like spider silk across her skin that wouldn’t brush away. The Force thickened, the air got heavier. She turned, eyes scanning toward the ships—and that’s when she saw him.

Kanan.

He walked out of the Ghost without a sound, but something in the way he moved felt off. Coiled. Controlled—but barely. His hand gripped something, and he was heading straight for her. His blind eyes locked in her direction like he saw right through the noise and dust and distance.

Nix’s posture shifted. Arms folded, shoulders tense, she met him halfway across the yard. Her jaw was already tight.

“What now?” she muttered, dryly.

Kanan stopped just a few steps in front of her and raised his hand. In his fingers was a glowing red holocron—Sith-made. It pulsed faintly like a heartbeat.

“Care to explain what this is?” he asked, voice sharp.

Nix stared at it, then gave a half-shrug. “Holocron? Want me to open it?”

Kanan’s frown deepened. “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I really don’t,” she said, less amused now. “That’s not mine. I’ve never even seen it before.”

His grip tightened around the artifact. His whole stance radiated tension—like a storm about to break. “I knew it was a risk letting a Sith anywhere near us.”

That one hit deep. Not like a punch—more like a needle, sharp and sudden, right under her skin.

“Hera told me you’d back off after yesterday,” she said quietly, her voice unsteady. It wasn’t sarcasm. It was hurt.

“You’re not a Jedi, Nix,” Kanan said coldly. “And you’re not one of us. Sith always end the same way—chasing power until it destroys them. And I won’t let you drag Ezra down with you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Nix snapped, taking a step back, trying to understand why it suddenly felt like everything was breaking apart.

And then—

“Leave her alone!”

Ezra’s voice rang out from the Ghost like a blaster shot. He stormed toward them, eyes blazing, every step fueled by fury.

“Nix didn’t even know we had that holocron, Kanan! She’s got nothing to do with this!”

Kanan turned to face him, face drawn tight. He raised the holocron slightly, his voice low. “So you opened it yourself.”

Ezra clenched his fists. “Yeah. I opened it. So what? I was learning from it. Not her. If you’re looking to blame someone, blame me.”

Kanan was silent for a moment, like he was fighting something inside himself. “Ezra, do you have any idea how dangerous this path is?”

“Everything I’ve learned has helped me win one battle after another,” Ezra snapped back. “I’m using it for good.”

“Acting out of anger offers quick results—but it’s a trap,” Kanan warned, his tone pressing.

“Not for me!” Ezra shouted.

Kanan exhaled slowly. “I can’t let you keep this.” His words were final. He turned and walked away, holocron still gripped tightly like it weighed a thousand tons.

As his footsteps faded behind the Ghost, silence dropped like a stone.

Nix stood in silence, watching Kanan disappear with the holocron still clutched in his hand. The quiet that followed felt heavier than before. She could sense Ezra’s frustration—the tension wound so tight in him it was practically humming through the Force. She also felt something darker. Faint, but real. A flicker of something she knew too well.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

Ezra gave a small nod, his voice low. “I don’t even need him,” he muttered.

She kept her eyes on him. She could feel the storm swirling inside him—messy and loud and probably terrifying to sit with.

“Ezra,” she said gently.

For a second, it seemed like he hadn’t heard her. But then he finally turned. His eyes were distant, heavy with something she didn’t see in him often—confusion, anger, pain… and deep under it all, doubt.

“What the hell just happened?” she asked, straight up.

Ezra didn’t answer right away. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “Kanan acts like he doesn’t trust me. Like I’m still a kid. But I’m not. I did what I had to do to get stronger. To protect everyone.”

Nix studied him for a long moment. Now it all made sense—the strange feelings she’d picked up earlier, the way his presence had shifted in the Force.

“And the holocron?” she asked calmly.

Ezra hesitated. “I used it. I’ve been learning from it.”

She nodded, but said nothing at first. Just kept watching him.

“What?” he asked sharply. “You gonna lecture me too?”

Nix let out a breath. “No, Ezra. Why would I? I’m not a Jedi.”

“So you think I’m right?” he asked, almost hopeful.

She paused, weighing her words. It wasn’t black and white. She understood where he was coming from. But she also knew what happened when emotions took the wheel. “I think... you’re not the first one to feel like this,” she said quietly. “You know, the Sith Code says the Force shall free us. Gives us the power to become what we want. But you know what my master, Elkazar, always told me?”

Ezra shook his head.

“That the Force is just a tool. Nothing more. It can make you stronger, yeah. Give you power. But the second you let it choose for you… it doesn’t belong to you anymore. And that’s not freedom. That’s slavery.”

Ezra didn’t reply right away. But she could tell her words hit something.

There was too much chaos in his head—she could feel it. She had to get him out of it.

She took a breath, shifted her tone. “You know what? Let’s go for a walk. Nothing like a walk after someone ticks you off.”

Ezra blinked, thrown off by the sudden change in tone. “You wanna go for a walk? Right now?”

She gave him a little smile. Not the kind that said I know better. The kind that said I’m here. “Sure. Better than standing here sulking like I did that one time they kicked me out of my own ceremony at the Academy. I was probably the only Acolyte ever officially handed off to a master without even being in the room.”

Ezra raised an eyebrow, smiling despite himself. “Wait—what? How do you even get kicked out of something like that?”

“C’mon,” Nix grinned, brushing off the question. “Let’s walk.”

He gave her a look. “Nix. What did you do?”

She laughed. It was sudden, sharp, real. Finally, she turned back to him, grinning. “Okay, fine—but don’t laugh…”

Ezra leaned in expectantly.

“I might’ve… stolen the Overseer’s ceremonial robe. Right before the handoff. Don’t ask me why. Thought it was funny. Honestly, if Elkazar hadn’t been the one to take me on, I’m pretty sure someone else would’ve just straight up executed me. I’ve never been good with authority.”

Ezra groaned and covered his face, laughing. He couldn’t help it.

“I was a kid! Don’t laugh!” she protested, still smiling.

He kept laughing anyway, and for the first time in hours, he actually looked relaxed again.

Nix watched him with quiet relief. Whatever storm had been building in him, it had passed—at least for now.

Chapter Text

The base had been weirdly quiet all morning. The sun was already high above the horizon, and the Ghost sat parked on one of the landing platforms, its hull catching the light under a thin layer of dust. Nix was perched on the edge of a maintenance crate with her headphones on, humming along to the music playing on her datapad. Her gaze was fixed up at the sky—at the empty spot where Phantom had disappeared hours ago with Ezra and the others.

A voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
"There you are. Figured I'd find you here," Hera said, approaching with a small, easy smile. "Honestly... I'm about five minutes away from losing it sitting at the terminal."

Nix took her headphones off, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Yeah, sounds like a blast."

"Feel like going for a spin?" Hera asked. "I need to run some cannon calibrations, and Chopper's off with Ezra and the others. Could use an extra pair of hands."

Nix shrugged and hopped down from the crate. "Yeah, why not."

They headed toward the ship together, the familiar outline of the Ghost almost looking cozy under the sharp Atollon sunlight. As Nix stepped up the ramp, she paused for a second, letting her gaze drift over the walls she was starting to think of... almost like home.

Hera caught the look and gave her a knowing smile.
"Don't worry. We’re keeping a spot warm for you."

Nix shook her head with a tiny grin and followed her inside.

A little while later, Nix was back in the copilot's seat, her hands resting loosely on the console, eyes flicking over the cannon performance readouts. Hera worked the controls with her usual calm precision, flipping switches and adjusting settings as the Ghost skimmed low over the barren Atollon landscape, firing at pre-marked targets every few minutes.

"So what do you think?" Hera asked as another blast nailed a target dead-on.

Nix tilted her head, giving a small, amused shrug. "Not that I’m some big cannon expert or anything, but... feels like you’ve got it pretty dialed in now."

Hera chuckled, but her expression shifted a little more serious.
"I heard... you had a bit of a run-in with Kanan yesterday."

Nix stiffened slightly, her fingers freezing above the console.

"Yeah... well, more like he had a problem with me," she said finally, her voice low. "And I’m still not even sure why. Just kinda... assumed it was my fault. I didn’t know anything about the holocron. Ezra never said anything." She paused, staring out at the desert. "But honestly... I can’t even blame him."

Hera was quiet for a moment, then said gently, "Kanan's scared."

Nix gave a dry little laugh. "Yeah. Picked up on that."

"Not of you," Hera added softly. "He’s scared for Ezra. Scared of the dark side. When he feels someone he loves slipping even a little bit toward it... it’s not easy for him. For any of us."

Nix kept staring out the viewport, her voice almost a whisper.
"Doesn’t excuse him treating me like I’m some ticking bomb. I’m trying, Hera. I’m really trying. Not ‘cause I have to... but ‘cause I want to." She let out a breath that was half a bitter laugh. "It’s not like I’m Darth Nihilus, ready to eat a planet if I miss breakfast."

Hera gave a soft nod. "I know. And trust me, the others will start to see it too. Kanan just... needs a little more time than most."

"Maybe more than I’ve got patience for," Nix muttered, but there wasn’t much real anger behind it. After a few seconds of silence, she added, softer, "It’s just... hard. Couple weeks ago, I was still talking to my master... and now? Thousands of years gone. Nothing left of anything I knew. I don’t even know why Elkazar let me go... and I miss him. I miss everything. And then some Jedi shows up and says that something I don't even care about is all my fault..."

Hera didn’t interrupt, just made a few quiet adjustments to the console, letting Nix speak.

"I get it," Hera said finally, her voice low and steady. "You’re both carrying your own scars. But I believe you’ll find a way through it. Both of you."

"I don’t need him to be my friend..." Nix whispered. "I just wish he’d stop looking at me like I’m something to be afraid of..."

She leaned back in her seat, eyes drifting over the endless stretch of sun-bleached plains.
"Not every Sith craves domination. Some of us... just wanna belong somewhere."

Hera reached out and rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"You belong with us. Ezra already made sure of that."

Nix frowned slightly, glancing over at her.

"I mean it," Hera said with a small smile. "I think he’s really taken to you."

Nix didn’t say anything for a second. The hum of the Ghost’s engines filled the space between them. Then, very faintly, she smiled.
"Ezra’s... different."

Hera laughed lightly.
"Aren’t we all?"

The Ghost made another slow pass over the Atollon flats, and Hera checked the last of the diagnostics with a satisfied look.
"Alright," she said, voice dipping a little more serious again. "Let’s head back to base. Ezra and the others should’ve been back by now."

After the Ghost touched down, Hera and Nix made their way toward the main building. Hera walked with steady purpose, but as they neared the command center doors, Nix hesitated. Something in her gut told her the news waiting inside wasn’t going to be good.

"I’ll just wait out here," she muttered, already turning to leave.

"Come with me," Hera said, stopping her with a look. It wasn’t harsh or overbearing—just steady. Certain.

Nix blinked in surprise. "Seriously? I thought I was still a... you know, walking security risk."

"Seriously," Hera said with a small, calm nod. "I think it’s time."

Nix didn’t argue. Something flickered across her face—surprise, maybe a quiet flash of gratitude—but she fell into step beside Hera without a word.

Inside the command center, the air was thick with tension. Commander Sato sat at the holo-map table, surrounded by a few officers. Every pair of eyes shifted toward them as Hera entered—and Nix instinctively hung back a step. She didn’t want to draw attention. And yet, for the first time, she was standing here not as a threat... but as someone allowed to witness what mattered.

Hera moved straight to the console without missing a beat and opened a comm channel.
"Ghost to Spectre-6. You missed check-in. Where are you?"

There was a long stretch of static before a familiar voice crackled through:
"Hey! Still in the Yarma System, Hera. Yeah, no. Getting some great rexon. So busy, No time to talk. Bridger out."

Nix raised an eyebrow. Hera just let out a quiet sigh.

Sato turned toward Hera with a knowing look.
"It appears Commander Bridger’s recon mission has turned into a recovery operation."

Hera nodded, keeping her voice even.
"Sir, we had better mobilize the fleet."

"Indeed," Sato said simply, already issuing orders to his staff.

Hera pulled back from the console and turned to Nix, giving her a small nod.
"Come."

Nix followed, and half-jokingly asked under her breath, "Does this kinda thing happen a lot? Knowing he’s in trouble this fast?"

"When Ezra says everything’s fine," Hera said dryly, leading them back toward the Ghost, "it usually means it’s twice as bad."

They entered the ship—and found they weren’t alone. Sitting quietly in the dim cockpit, hands resting on his knees, eyes turned out toward the sky, was Kanan.

"Kanan?" Hera said, both surprised and relieved.

He turned slowly toward them.
"Ezra’s in trouble," he said simply. "Let’s go."

There wasn’t urgency in his voice—just a quiet, unshakable certainty.

Hera smiled, her relief clear. "It’s good to have you back."

Nix stayed frozen by the door for a second. Something inside her twisted tight. She dropped her gaze and murmured, "Maybe I should stay behind."

But to her surprise, Kanan turned to her. His voice was calm—none of the sharpness she was used to hearing from him. "Ezra’s gonna need everyone he trusts. And he trusts you."

Nix looked up, caught completely off-guard. It wasn’t an apology... but it was more than she’d ever expected to hear. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. But she didn’t need to.

Hera laid a hand gently on her shoulder and said, "Come on. Let’s go get him."

Nix hesitated, heart thudding faster. But then she just nodded and followed them into the cockpit.

The Ghost lifted off from the landing pad, climbing toward the stars. For a long moment, no one said anything. Hera piloted with her usual cool focus, Kanan sat silently at her side, and Nix, tucked into the seat behind them, stared out into the deep, endless dark of space. She still felt a little out of place... but something inside her warmed, just a little.

"Thanks," she whispered, almost too soft to hear.

"For what?" Hera asked, her smile easy, eyes still on the controls.

"For bringing me with you."

Hera just shrugged, casual like it was obvious.
"Once we brought you into this family... we weren't about to leave you behind."

Nix smiled, a small, genuine smile, and turned her eyes back to the stars stretching out in front of them.

The Ghost raced through hyperspace, the hull thrumming with the soft, steady rhythm of lightspeed travel. In the cockpit, everything was silent except for the quiet beeping of the ship’s monitors. Hera and Kanan were focused on the controls and Nix sat behind them, her eyes locked on the swirling blue-and-white glow outside.

Somewhere ahead of them, just a few minutes away, Ezra was waiting. And with every second that ticked by, Nix could feel the tension tightening in her chest. She kept her hands folded tightly in her lap, breathing slow and even, but the tension in her shoulders gave her away.

"Get ready," Hera said calmly as warning lights started blinking on the displays.

The Ghost dropped out of hyperspace followed by the rest of the Phoenix Squadron—and straight into chaos.

Stars snapped back into sharp points of light, and the Yarma System opened up before them. In the distance, flashes of fire and light tore across the dark—a messy dogfight between Imperial TIE fighters and a small squadron of battered Y-wings fighting desperately to get away.

"Oh, Ezra... what did you get yourself into now," Hera muttered.

Nix narrowed her eyes, studying the battle ahead. She didn’t need to be a strategist to know how bad it looked. The part of her that had been trained by Sith instincts kicked in immediately: outnumbered, no clean exit, complete need for cover fire.

"Nix, get up to the cannon turret!" Hera barked sharply. "I need you there, now!"

Nix didn’t hesitate. She jumped from her seat, sprinted toward the ladder, and scrambled up into the gunner’s position.

Sliding into the chair, a surge of adrenaline rushed through her. Her hands ran instinctively over the controls, screens flickering to life around her—targets, vectors, threat assessments. TIE fighters screamed past in dangerous spirals.

Deep breath.

"Alright, let’s see if I’m still any good at this," she muttered, tightening her grip.

"Nix, you copy?" Hera’s voice crackled through the comm.

"Loud and clear," Nix answered, steady.

"Good. Cover our backs. We need to keep those TIEs busy so the bombers can get out."

"Got it," she nodded, locking onto her first target.

A TIE fighter shot past her line of sight—she fired and missed by a hair. She cursed under her breath but quickly closed her eyes for a heartbeat, sinking into the Force. She felt the flow of it around her, currents moving through space like invisible rivers. Another TIE fighter swooped in. This time she didn’t aim at the ship itself, but at where it would be.

She fired—and the fighter exploded in a clean, blinding flash.

The familiar hum of energy raced through her veins again—the Force.

The Ghost spun and dipped closer to the Y-wings. Hera flipped the comms open:
"Ghost to bombers, get your ships on the carrier. We’ll cover you."

Sabine’s voice crackled back, laced with a bit of relief:
"Copy Ghost. We are glad to see you."

Nix locked onto another fighter and blasted it apart with precise fire. Each shot pulled her deeper into the rhythm of the fight, into that place where instincts and movement blended perfectly.

One by one, the Y-wings peeled off and headed for the massive Phoenix Nest carrier, landing safely. A brief breath of relief—but the tension didn’t ease.

Then Sabine’s voice came through the comlink again, quieter, almost hesitant:
"Ghost? Any sign of The Phantom? Spectre-6 should be up here by now."

The mood in the cockpit changed instantly. Kanan leaned toward the comlink panel.
"Ezra’s not with you?"

"No," Sabine answered simply.

The silence that followed was heavy.

In the gunner’s seat, Nix felt her stomach twist.
Then Hera’s voice crackled through the comm, firm and commanding:
"Nix, Ezra’s still down on Reklam Station. We’re going to get him. Get ready."

"Understood," Nix answered, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn’t explain it, but the fear that clutched at her wasn’t just worry for the mission—it was for Ezra. Somehow, she knew—deep down—she couldn’t let him face this alone.

The Ghost banked hard, diving back down toward the planet’s surface. The cockpit went tense, everyone focused.

Then, cutting through the comlink silence, came a calm, steady voice:
"You good up there, Nix?"

She froze for a second. It was Kanan.
For a heartbeat, she thought she must’ve imagined it—Kanan never talked to her like that. Maybe Hera pushed him into it, she thought automatically. But there was no force behind his words. Just calm. Just... sincerity.

Swallowing hard, she answered, her voice a little shaky but honest:
"Not like I have much of a choice."

There was a pause on the line. Then Kanan spoke again, quiet, solid, impossible to ignore:
"You’re a good shot. You’re doing great. Trust your instincts. Hera trusts you. Ezra trusts you. Maybe... maybe it’s time I did too."

Nix sat frozen in the turret, staring blankly ahead as his words sank into her chest, hitting way harder than she was ready for. She didn’t know if it was relief swelling in her ribs—or the fear of letting that trust slip through her fingers. Maybe both.

Slowly, with a tiny smile no one could see, she reached for the comlink switch.
"Thanks, Kanan," she said simply.

The Ghost sliced through the thick atmosphere of Yarma planet, pulling sharp, tense maneuvers as it dropped toward Reklam Station.

The planet’s sky was heavy and restless—fog stretched in every direction, and the Ghost shuddered under its weight. Through the front viewport, there was barely anything to see—just gray shadows, distant flashes of storms, and the occasional burst of fire from the crumbling orbital station ahead.

Hera narrowed her eyes, focusing hard on the radar.
"There’s something on my scanner. I’ll try to get as close as I can."

Just as she said it, the fog split apart—and the wreckage came into view.

Reklam Station hung in the air in its death throes, half-consumed by explosions and flame, debris scattering everywhere. The massive structure was collapsing in on itself, slowly sinking toward the deadly atmosphere below.

Kanan leaned forward, almost breathless.
"Ezra... I’m here," he murmured.

The Ghost began circling the dying station. Hera kept a tight, calculated grip on the controls, every move precise to the second.

"There he is!" she gasped when she spotted a small figure—Ezra—clinging desperately to a broken piece of the station’s hull.

Kanan didn’t even hesitate. He shot out of his seat.
"I’ll get him!" he called over his shoulder, already bolting out of the cockpit.

In the narrow corridor, he almost ran straight into Nix, who was just coming back down from the cannon turret.

"Kanan?!" she blurted, startled.

He only stopped for a split second.
"Hera needs cover. Get up there, keep an eye on the debris. If something big hits us, we’re all going down!"

Nix blinked, caught off guard not by the order—but by the trust in it.
"I’m on it," she nodded quickly.

"Watch yourself!" Kanan shouted back, already sprinting toward the lower ramp.

Nix wasted no time. She scrambled back up the ladder into the cannon turret, dropping into the seat with a racing pulse. From up there, she had a clear view of the wreckage above them—and of the massive, crumbling pieces breaking loose from the dying station.

She tightened her grip on the controls, heart hammering. She stretched out with the Force, senses sharpening—

And then she saw it.
A giant slab of twisted metal broke free and came tumbling straight toward the Ghost.

"Zar'za," she hissed under her breath.

Instinct took over before she could even think. She threw out a hand, the Force roaring through her veins. She pulled all that wild, crackling energy inside her—and with a fierce push, she shoved the falling debris off course.

The chunk of metal roared past the ship, missing them by a breath, and vanished into the stormy haze.

Nix sat there for a moment, frozen, her hand still outstretched, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Then she snapped back into focus, scanning the skies for any more threats.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel like dead weight. She didn’t feel like a mistake. She was part of something. Part of them.

And somewhere deep inside, she heard the echo of her master’s voice:
Use your power to protect and to fight—but never forget why you have it.

Meanwhile, back in the cockpit, Hera was struggling to steady the Ghost as the battered ship rocked in the turbulent winds.

"We’re getting too close!" she growled, fighting the controls. "C’mon, Kanan," she whispered under her breath.

Then, finally—crackling through the comm—came Kanan’s voice. Exhausted but triumphant:
"Got him!"

The Ghost pulled sharply away from the collapsing station, climbing fast through the thick atmosphere of Yarma planet.
Nix watched from the turret window as the wreckage disappeared into the roiling clouds below. A strange relief washed over her—mixed with a hollow feeling.
Something was gone. Something was over.

Once the ship stabilized and the sky outside deepened, Nix climbed back down the ladder. She made her way toward the cockpit, pausing just at the entrance.

Ezra sat slumped in one of the seats, pale and worn, a shadow darkening his eyes. But he was alive.
When he caught her looking, he offered a small, sheepish smile—almost apologetic.

Nix dropped into the last open seat beside him and shot him a grin, the kind that came with a light, teasing tone meant to cut through the heaviness in the air.

"So... everything go according to plan?" she asked casually, like she didn’t already know the answer.

Ezra blinked, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks, and gave a quiet, awkward chuckle.
"Yeah. Totally nailed it."

Nix raised an eyebrow and laughed softly.
"Pro tip—if you don’t actually have a plan, technically it can't not go according to plan."

Ezra let out a real laugh this time—but it quickly faded when he glanced up and caught the tension written all over Hera and Kanan’s faces.
Both of them sat silently at the controls, rigid, the weight between them almost physical.

Ezra swallowed hard and started, his voice small:
"I... I can explain everything—"

"Save it," Hera cut him off sharply, not even glancing back. She reached out, flipped the com switch, and patched into the fleet’s main channel.
"Commander Sato, everyone is accounted for."

The comlink crackled to life with Sato’s steady voice:
"Understood. Prepare for hyperspace jump."

The Ghost, along with the rest of the fleet, vanished into the shimmering streaks of hyperspace—leaving the chaos of Yarma System behind.

Silence settled over the cockpit.

Ezra sat hunched, staring down at the floor, guilt practically radiating off him.
Nix noticed. She hesitated a second, then stepped closer and leaned down slightly toward him.

"Hey," she said gently. "Remember that time-travel show I told you about? Wanna go check it out?"

Ezra lifted his eyes, hesitating at first. But then a small, grateful smile tugged at his mouth.

"Yeah... that actually sounds kinda perfect," he murmured.

They both stood up. Before leaving, Nix caught Hera’s eye—Hera gave her a small nod of approval, no words needed.

Nix and Ezra disappeared down the hallway, their footsteps soft and slow.

Left alone in the cockpit, Hera let out a tired sigh and sank a little deeper into her seat.
Kanan, who’d silently listened to the whole exchange, smiled faintly.

"Funny," he said thoughtfully. "How easy it is for her to get Ezra to smile again."

Hera shrugged lightly, returning the small smile.
"Maybe that's exactly why we need her."

When the Ghost finally touched down on the landing pad at Atollon base, the whole crew slowly made their way out. Ezra, though, moved slower than the rest—like the weight of his mistakes dragged at every step.

Just past the ship's shadow, they spotted the rest of their team waiting—Sabine, Zeb, Rex, and Chopper.

Ezra stopped short. He looked like he was bracing for impact and his face darkened with guilt. He turned halfway toward Hera and said, almost under his breath, his voice heavy with regret: "I’m sorry, okay? I messed up."

Hera halted too, fixing him with a look that was calm but hard as steel.
"As a leader, you've a responsibility to Phoenix Squadron," she said, her voice steady. "You almost got your team and yourself killed. And—"

Ezra quickly cut her off with a raised hand, dropping his gaze.
"I know. Okay?" he muttered. "The Phantom's gone. But we’re back in one piece, and we’ve got five new... Uh, well, old bombers," he added quietly, a clear ache in his voice.

But Hera wasn’t about to let him off easy.
"You disobeyed orders," she said, even firmer now. "I have no choice but to suspend your command."

Ezra didn’t respond. He just stood there, staring at the ground as a heavy silence fell over the group.

It was Zeb who broke it. He stepped forward and said boldly:
"You suspend him, you should suspend all of us. We went along with him."

Hera held his gaze for a long moment, then softened just a little.
"Your loyalty's admirable, Zeb," she said gently. "But this was Ezra’s mission. Not yours."

Sabine let out a slow breath and added, a little more encouragingly:
"At least we’ve got those Y-wings."

Ezra stayed a little off to the side, shoulders low, completely silent.

Nix, who had been quietly watching the whole thing unfold, slowly moved toward him.
"Hey," she said softly.

Ezra turned to her, his eyes clouded with doubt. But Nix just gave him a small, lopsided smile and said:
"Seriously, don’t be so hard on yourself. Yeah, maybe you didn’t follow orders exactly, but I know you did what you thought was right. You saved your team... and you got those ships, no matter where they end up."

Ezra lifted his head a little.
And when he smiled—small, a little broken—it was like her words had cracked through some of the weight pressing down on him.
"Thanks, Nix," he said quietly.

Before he could say anything else, Kanan approached them. His face was calm—not cold, not angry, just... steady.

"Nix," he said politely, his voice even, "Would you mind giving Ezra and me a minute? We need to talk."

Nix hesitated, just for a second. But when she caught Ezra’s slight nod, she smiled gently and stepped back.
"Sure. No problem."

She wandered off across the base, leaving the two Jedi alone.

As she walked, her mind buzzed with thoughts. It caught her off guard, just how much she cared about Ezra. She hadn’t even noticed when that had changed.
From the start, Ezra had been the one who believed in her. Who treated her like a person, not a threat. He’d become her anchor in a galaxy that still felt more like a battlefield than a home.

Her thoughts drifted to Hera, too. At first, she’d felt Hera’s distance—cautious, careful. But slowly, Nix had seen it: Hera was starting to trust her. Maybe even respect her.
It was Hera who had defended her when Kanan still looked at her like a ticking bomb. And maybe now she understood why everyone around here looked up to Hera so much.

And Kanan... Kanan still hurt the most. She understood his caution, she really did. But it didn’t make it sting any less. Still... something had shifted, even in him. Maybe he was beginning to accept her. Or maybe he was just tolerating her because Ezra believed in her. Either way... it was something.

Lost in her thoughts, Nix wandered through the base’s outer buildings, the twin suns lowering in the sky above her.

Whatever the future held, one thing was clear: For the first time in a long time, Nix felt like she might actually belong somewhere.

Nix sat on the edge of a low wall near the hangar entrance, legs swinging loosely, absentmindedly turning a small metal pendant over in her hands. Her mind was somewhere far away—lost in memories, dreams, and questions she couldn’t quite answer.

The crunch of boots on gravel pulled her out of it. She turned just in time to see Ezra walking up to her.

"Hey," he said, smiling a little sheepishly. "Thanks... for trying to distract me earlier."

Nix smiled faintly and shook her head.
"Don’t mention it. Sometimes... we all just need someone to sit with us."

Ezra dropped down beside her, resting his elbows on his knees. For a while, they just sat there, the silence between them easy, not heavy.

After a moment, Ezra glanced at her, picking up on the way she seemed a little off.
"Nix? You okay?" he asked gently.

She blinked, caught off guard that he’d noticed. But there was no judgment in his voice—just quiet, genuine concern.

"I just..." she hesitated, then sighed. "I miss Elkazar. And... everything I used to know. Lately... I’ve been having weird dreams."

Ezra sat up a little straighter.
"Dreams?"

Nix nodded.
"I keep seeing Valkorion. It’s like... a vision. Not just a dream. It feels real."

Ezra’s eyes widened.
"Valkorion? I swear I’ve heard that name before..." He frowned, thinking, then snapped his fingers. "After we found you on Malachor—you were saying that name in your sleep."

Nix stiffened a little but gave a slow nod.
"He’s an ancient Sith... back in my time, we knew him as Darth Vitiate. He was our Emperor... well, until he betrayed us. And now, somehow... he keeps showing up in my dreams. I know it’s probably not really him. Maybe just some echo in the Force. But... I don’t know what to make of it."

Ezra didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he reached over and gently placed a hand on her shoulder—a silent, grounding gesture.

"Whatever it is," he said softly, "you don’t have to go through it alone. If you wanna talk about it... I’m here."

Nix stared down at the pendant in her hand, her thoughts a tangled mess she couldn’t quite sort out.

"You know..." she said after a long pause, her voice low, "the worst part isn’t seeing Valkorion. It’s not knowing what he wants from me. I have this terrible feeling... that he’s not gonna go away. That he’s trying to change me somehow."
She shook her head, a bitter edge in her voice.
"And the scariest part? I don’t even know if what he’s saying is real... or just another trick to mess with my head."

Ezra watched her carefully, concern etched across his face, but he didn’t push.
And maybe that’s why, after a moment, Nix gave a small, tired smile and changed the subject.

"By the way..." she said, a flicker of mischief returning to her eyes, "what was the deal with that holocron?"

Ezra blinked, caught off guard, then gave a sheepish shrug as he leaned back against the wall.
"We found it on Malachor. At first, it just seemed like a regular holocron. But then..." he trailed off, searching for the right words, "it started talking to me. It promised it could teach me how to be stronger. And... I wanted to believe it."

Nix gave a quiet laugh—not mocking, just understanding.
Ezra glanced at her, curious.

"Some holocrons are designed that way," she explained with a knowing smile. "They look for the cracks inside you. They whisper exactly what you want to hear."

Ezra frowned, realizing something.
"You sound like you know a lot about them."

Nix nodded, her voice calm.
"I studied a lot of holocrons. Some of them were ancient even back in my time. After Valkorion betrayed our Empire, the Dark Council fell apart. It was chaos. I was tasked with finding out anything about him—his weaknesses, his secrets."

They sat in silence for a few beats, until Nix gave a soft, sad smile.
"If you’d told me about it sooner... maybe I could’ve helped."

Ezra dropped his gaze, a little ashamed.
"Kanan hid it. I’m not even sure where. And honestly... I think I was scared. Scared to tell anyone. Scared you'd all just... judge me."

Nix reached out and laid her hand gently on his arm—a steady, reassuring touch.

"I would never judge you, Ezra," she said firmly, her voice carrying a weight even she hadn’t realized she had.
"Not for trying to protect the people you care about. If you ever need help... with anything... I’m here. Always."

Ezra looked up at her—and in his eyes, there was something deeper than gratitude. There was trust. Real, unshakable trust.

"Thanks, Nix," he whispered. "That means more than you know."

Nix smiled at him—truly smiled this time. And for a while, they just sat there, side by side, under the quiet stars.

Two souls from completely different worlds. But maybe... just maybe... not so different after all.

Chapter Text

The next morning on Chopper base started out quietly. The air was crisp, desert wind drifting lazily between the low buildings, and the sun had only just begun to rise over the horizon. Nix sat cross-legged on the ground next to a half-disassembled comm unit, watching Ezra as he worked with the small components. His fingers were smudged with dust, and the focused expression on his face made him look unusually serious—though the faint curve of his lips betrayed how much he was actually enjoying it.

Nix smiled to herself. She didn’t really care about repairing tech, but something about this moment—quiet, simple, easy—made her feel like things were okay. Like she could forget who she was, just for a second. And sitting next to Ezra, she could almost feel… normal.

“Hold this for me,” he said suddenly, nodding at a twisted cable that had started to slip from his grip.

“Yeah, okay,” she replied, shifting closer and pinning the thin insulated tube exactly where he needed it.

Ezra glanced at her with a lopsided grin. “Y’know, for a Sith, you’ve got pretty skilled hands.”

Nix raised an eyebrow and shot him a look. “Interesting compliment. I expected something like ‘thanks,’ not a lesson in anatomy.”

Ezra chuckled. “Alright, alright… thanks.”

“You haven’t seen me fix anything yet,” she said with a smirk. “Most of the time, if I touch it, it’s broken for good.”

“Let’s hope this isn’t one of those times,” Ezra laughed.

They fell into a companionable silence after that—the only sounds were the clicking of tools and the wind sweeping across the base. And then—

“Nix? You got a minute?”

The voice was quiet but unmistakable. Nix flinched slightly and turned her head. A few steps away stood Kanan—calm, arms relaxed at his sides.

She hesitated. A few days ago, she would’ve braced herself for tension or suspicion. But there was nothing harsh in his posture now. Still, something tightened in her chest. She didn’t know why. Maybe because it was the first time he didn’t sound like a Jedi Master.

“Yeah,” she said cautiously, standing up. “What do you need?”

Kanan didn’t move, just stood there, steady and still. His face was unreadable beneath the half-mask, but something about his presence felt… different. No threat, just quiet resolution.

After a brief pause, he spoke. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Ezra looked up from the comm unit, curious. Kanan tilted his head slightly toward him—just a small gesture, asking silently for privacy.

Nix gave Ezra a quick glance. He shot her a look—supportive, as only he could. “You’ll be okay here?” she asked.

“Yeah, go,” Ezra nodded. “And thanks again.”

Nix stood and brushed off her knees, then stepped beside Kanan. Together, they walked across the base courtyard in silence. Wind stirred the dust and whispered through the metal structures. She kept sneaking glances at him, trying to figure out where this was headed. With Kanan, you never really knew.

Eventually, she broke the silence. “So… what did you want to talk about?”

His answer came surprisingly light. “You know how to drive a speeder?”

Nix blinked. “Wait—what? A speeder? Ezra showed me the basics, and it’s not that different from what I used to know, but… what does that have to do with anything?”

They stopped at a small awning that overlooked the hangar. Kanan turned slightly toward her. Even without his sight, he knew exactly where she was. His voice was calm—neither a command nor interrogation.

“I need to get out to a spot in the desert. And since I can’t exactly drive,” he tapped his mask with a hint of a smile, “I was hoping you’d take me.”

She stared at him for a second, waiting for the catch. No sarcasm. No pretense. Just honesty.

“Why me?” she asked. “You didn’t even want me in the same room not long ago.”

Kanan gave the faintest smile—real, if a little weary. “Maybe it’s time to challenge a few of my assumptions. If we’re going to work together, we need to start building trust. That’s why I’d like you to come with me.”

That surprised her. His tone was steady but not hard—more like someone tired of holding onto old fears. After a moment, she nodded.

“Alright,” she said quietly. “But if you leave me out in the middle of nowhere…”

Kanan chuckled—deep and genuine, maybe for the first time. “Believe it or not, this matters. For both of us.”

She looked at him again, studied his face. And then slowly, she nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

He was already heading toward the hangar, where a few old speeders were waiting.

“We’ve got a long ride ahead,” he said over his shoulder. “And a few answers to find.”

The ride across the desert passed surprisingly quickly. Dust kicked up behind them in golden plumes, the wind howling past as the sun glinted off the speeder’s windshield. Nix sat at the controls, eyes narrowed against the bright light, a faintly amused smile on her lips. There was something freeing about it—riding gave her that rare feeling of control. No doubts, no ghosts, no ancient emperors whispering in her sleep. Just speed, the engine’s hum, and endless open land.

“Nix,” Kanan called from behind her, his voice steady but tinged with mild concern. “You sure we’re not going a bit fast?”

“We’re fine,” she replied with a smirk. “I’ve got this.”

She knew he couldn’t see, and yet he never lost that calm steadiness in his voice—something she admired more than she’d ever admit out loud.

It didn’t take long before Kanan guided her to their destination, and the speeder eased down into the sand. Nix was the first to dismount, wiping sweat from her brow as she scanned the area.

The place felt... strange. Jagged rock formations loomed in the distance, worn smooth by wind and time, while red-brown dust swirled lazily across the ground. The air was still and thick, not unnaturally so—more like the quiet just before something reveals itself.

Kanan moved forward without hesitation. Despite his blindness, his steps were sure. He stopped atop a small rise and called out into the open:

“Bendu! Are you here?”

Nix lingered near the speeder, eyes narrowing suspiciously at the landscape. Before she could ask who—or what—he was talking to, an unsettling sound broke the stillness. A scraping, clicking noise.

She turned on instinct.

From the sand, almost silently, three massive spiders emerged—long-limbed, their bodies sleek and glossy, moving with a disturbing grace. Nix gasped—and before she even realized it, her hand shot up. The Force surged through her like an avalanche, ready to strike. That’s how it had always been. Elkazar had taught her that survival meant striking first.

Kill before you get killed.

“Don’t,” Kanan said. His voice wasn’t urgent. It was calm. And it was that calm that stopped her.

Nix gave him a bewildered look. “They’re giant spiders, Kanan!”

“I know,” he replied softly. “But panic, and they’ll strike. Trust me—I’ve dealt with them. They’re just... curious.”

Her jaw clenched, but she slowly lowered her hand. Sweat slicked her palm, and her heart thundered in her chest. The spiders circled cautiously, legs lifting as if testing the air, then slowly withdrew.

“You’re sure about this?” she whispered.

“They’re leaving,” Kanan said gently.

And he was right. One by one, the creatures turned and slipped back beneath the sand like shadows.

“Well, that was fun,” Nix muttered, exhaling hard.

Kanan offered a small smile. “Looks like Bendu wanted to test you.”

“Bendu...?” she repeated, confused.

And then she felt it—not just heard it, but felt it. A deep, earthy rumble beneath her boots. The ground trembled, dunes shifting slightly. From behind a massive rock formation, something emerged.

Bendu.

A towering, ancient being, more a force of nature than a creature. His presence was overwhelming—not dark, not light, but something wholly... other. Balanced and vast, like the desert itself. His gaze was penetrating, his aura humming with power that defied categories.

“That’s... Bendu?” Nix whispered.

Kanan nodded slightly, turning toward the massive shape. “Bendu.”

The being laughed. It was a sound like thunder rolling across the dunes—quiet, yet powerful, echoing through every grain of sand. “Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight. And with you… she who walks the path of both darkness and light.”

Nix blinked. “The what now?”

Bendu turned to her, a cryptic smile on his face. “You’ve brought a storm with you, Jedi. One who claims the dark but carries echoes of both.”

Nix frowned but said nothing. Something heavy settled in her chest.

Kanan glanced her way, then back to Bendu. “Last time, you said there was something between us—something we had to understand. That we share a connection... and a division.”

Bendu nodded slowly. “You are both attuned. You feel the currents of the Force, though through different lenses. Yet your visions are clouded. She sees a judge in you. You see a threat in her. Neither of you sees the truth. And so... you cannot grow.”

“How are we supposed to change that?” Nix asked, a little wary. “You speak in riddles.”

“That is because truth is not given,” Bendu replied. “It is found. But the path to it is difficult. And only through conflict will you discover what is real within you. Not the mask. Not the words. Only action.”

Nix narrowed her eyes. But she could feel it—this wasn’t provocation. It wasn’t an insult. It was... symbolic.

“So what?” she asked quietly. “You want us to fight? We already do.”

“I want you to allow yourselves to be honest,” Bendu said softly. “In combat, there is emotion. In movement, memory. The Force reflects what you carry. The duel is not punishment. It is a question. And an answer.”

Kanan said nothing, but something in his stance shifted. “So we’re supposed to duel... but not to win?”

“Victory is an illusion,” Bendu rumbled. “It’s not about who defeats whom. It’s about who uncovers what they’ve tried to deny.”

A long silence.

“I have no idea how this is supposed to help,” Nix muttered, glancing at Kanan. “But fine. Whatever this is—sounds fun. I’m in.”

Kanan lowered his head slightly, then unclipped his lightsaber. His expression was calm, deeply focused. “I’m guessing there’s meaning to all of this. Somewhere.”

Nix smirked. “Yeah. Sure there is.”

And their lightsabers came to life.

Bendu stepped back, each footfall heavy and deliberate. His gaze—deep as the craters of long-dead worlds—remained fixed on the two figures now standing opposite each other. His face was quiet, solemn even, like he was bearing witness to something far greater than a simple duel.

Nix stood with her lightsaber gripped tightly in one hand, its violet blade humming softly. Her eyes locked onto Kanan, who stood calmly across from her, his own saber ignited, the upper half of his face obscured by his mask. Even if his gaze—if it could be called that—seemed to drift into the void, she knew he was fully aware of her. She could feel the Force strung taut between them, like a wire pulled to its limit.

She narrowed her eyes. She was a Sith. Trained for combat—for killing. She was a master of aggression, not hesitation. And yet…

“Wait… is this even fair?” she asked suddenly, her glance flicking from Kanan to Bendu. “He’s blind.”

Bendu laughed—a low, thunderous sound that echoed across the dunes like distant stormclouds. “Do not underestimate your opponent, young Sith. Blindness is but a veil over the eyes. But he sees you more clearly than most ever will.”

Nix exhaled slowly and nodded. She knew he was right.

“All right then, Jedi…” she smirked, though there was something dangerous in her smile—something electric. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Kanan didn’t waste a word. He stepped forward, his blue blade crackling to full strength, and attacked with swift, precise strikes. No unnecessary force. No wasted motion.

But Nix met each blow effortlessly, like dancing on the edge of his blade. She didn’t strike back—just deflected, retreated, waited.

After a few exchanges, Kanan paused, his brow furrowed. “Nix, this means nothing if you’re holding back.”

“You really want to see what I can do?” she said, her voice shimmering with something more than challenge. Maybe even joy.

“I do,” Kanan answered firmly. “I want you to show me the truth.”

That word... something about it lit a fire in her.

In the next instant, Nix launched forward. Her movements were fluid and fast, but there was a ferocity beneath the grace—she moved like someone who was born with a blade in her hand. The saber twirled and arced, spinning in her grip with a deadly elegance. There was something playful in her style… but also something dangerous.

Kanan had to adjust immediately. Her technique was unorthodox—a fusion of traditional forms and her own improvisation. Sometimes, she'd turn off her blade mid-strike just to hit him with her free hand into a weak spot or throw him off balance. She wasn’t cruel, but she didn’t hold back either. She wanted him to see exactly what she was capable of.

And he handled more than she expected. His defense was precise, composed—built on total focus. He saw her through the Force, sensed her intent just before it became action. But even so—he had to fight with everything he had.

At one point, her blade snapped to the side, a feint that turned into a sudden spin. She deactivated her lightsaber mid-motion, twisted around him, and landed a clean blow to his ribs. Kanan staggered, his footing faltering for just a second.

She didn’t wait.

Before he could recover, she was in front of him again, her violet blade ignited—hovering just inches from his throat. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, but her expression remained calm. In her eyes, though, the Force burned.

“Do you yield?” she asked quietly. There was no mockery in it. Just a simple, honest question.

Kanan stood still. Then, with a slow exhale, he lowered his saber and shut it off. “Yes. I yield.”

Nix stepped back, her saber vanishing with a soft hiss. She lifted her eyes to Bendu—and for the first time since landing here, she didn’t feel like she was just being tested. She felt like she had proven something. Not by beating Kanan… but by showing what she truly carried inside.

Kanan let out a slow breath and wiped a hand across his brow. His movements were careful, slightly sluggish—fatigue was setting in—but behind the mask, his presence remained steady. “That style…” he said after a pause, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I’ve heard of it before. Tràkata, right?”

Nix gave a small, amused smile, her lightsaber still in hand though now inactive. “Yeah. That’s the name. Though… my master told me not to use it. Said turning off your blade mid-duel was ‘uncivilized’. And it shows weakness.”

“He was right. But it also has power,” Kanan said seriously. “Mistime it, and you lose your advantage—or a limb. But if you pull it off…” He gave her a small nod. “He must’ve been proud of you.”

This time, Nix didn’t smile. Her eyes drifted to the horizon, as if catching a glimpse of her master’s face in the desert wind. “I don’t know. He never said so.” Her voice caught slightly, then steadied again. “His training was... intense. But different from others. Maybe that was his way of being proud.”

For a moment, they stood in silence. The desert wind stirred the sand, dust settling around them like golden snow. Nix stepped back, drawing her jacket tighter around her shoulders, and with a quiet click, reattached her lightsaber to her belt.

Bendu approached, his massive footsteps shifting the sand beneath them. His voice rolled out like the echo of the land itself:
“Well done. This is the first step toward understanding one another.”

Nix looked at him, eyes narrowed—not in suspicion, but with something closer to reluctant respect. Something unspoken passed between them.

Kanan nodded slowly. “Maybe. But trust doesn’t come from just one duel.”

“No,” Bendu agreed, grave and calm. “But every step matters.”

He then turned his attention to Kanan, his gaze piercing through the space like light through mist.
“Tell me, Kanan Jarrus… if you walk beside a Sith, why do you not draw on her knowledge to teach your student?”

Kanan hesitated. His jaw tightened, his body tensed like someone facing an unexpected wound.
“You think I should expose Ezra to her influence? But that would also teach her how to fight us.”

“Perhaps,” Bendu said with that same quiet certainty. “Or perhaps she could teach you—and your student—how to survive when someone like her truly does come for you. Knowledge is power, Kanan. And the Force… does not take sides.”

Nix straightened, her voice steady and unflinching.
“I’ve said it before. I’m not here to betray you. I have no reason to hurt any of you.”

Kanan stood silent for a moment, his head tilted slightly, as though listening to something far away on the wind. His masked face turned ever so slightly toward her—and softened.

“I… I’ve never actually known a Sith,” he admitted quietly. “Not personally. I crossed paths with Maul… but that was a trap.”

Nix nodded. She understood.
“So you assumed I was the same.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I assumed you were worse.”

The words hit something in her—not with pain, but with clarity. Because at least they were honest. Finally.

“I get it,” she said quietly. “I've never stopped being a Sith, and I'll never try to.”

Kanan turned toward her. “And yet you’re here. Helping us.”

“Because that doesn’t mean anything,” she replied. “Not really. Not being a Jedi doesn’t mean I don’t want freedom.”
She paused, voice stronger now. “All my life, I was taught that being Sith wasn’t about hate or power. That’s a lie the Jedi tell because they never bothered to understand. To them, we’re just… ghosts from a forgotten war.”

“So what does being a Sith mean to you?” Kanan asked, gently.

Nix paused for a moment. “Peace is a lie. There’s only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. And through victory my chains are broken. The Force shall free me... The path of the Sith is about forging your own way from that power. I was raised to survive. To fight for what I believe in. To protect the people I care about. And not to fear the dark—because even the dark gives you the power to fight.”

Kanan considered her words. This wasn’t what he’d expected. Not what he’d read. Not what Master Billaba had taught him.

“And still… I’m afraid,” he said quietly. “Not of you. But of Ezra finding the wrong answers… in the wrong places.”

“Maybe,” Nix said softly. “But maybe that’s why I should be here. Because I’ve already walked that path. So if he does have questions… I’ll be there to answer them. Not to lead him. Just to catch him if he stumbles.”

They fell silent again, but it was no longer uneasy. There was something shared between them now—tentative, but real. Two people from opposite paths, admitting they didn’t know everything. But that they wanted to try.

Bendu smiled gently.
“Now you see,” he said, “that the Force is not a binary truth. Not light and shadow. It is a current flowing through all things—and sometimes, it brings paths together.”

Kanan and Nix both nodded—at the same time, without hesitation.

“I think,” Kanan said quietly, “I should give you a chance.”

Nix turned toward him, startled. There was a flicker of doubt in her eyes—but also something honest. Gratitude. She didn’t need his acceptance… but it meant something all the same.

“Even Sith can lose their way chasing power,” she replied calmly. “And I know that’s the kind you met. But not all of us were like that. So don't try to change me. I won't try to change you or Ezra.”

Kanan smiled—his first without hesitation. “Sounds fair.”

“I don’t really know what being a Jedi means, either,” Nix added softly. “Maybe we don’t need full trust. But I’ve seen Sith and Jedi work together... For something that matters to both sides.”

Bendu let out a laugh, deep and rumbling, rolling across the landscape like distant thunder.
“See? Every step counts. Even this one. But now it’s time to return. The journey does not end… but this circle is complete.”

Kanan turned toward the speeder, but paused, tilting his head slightly toward the massive being behind them.

“Thank you, Bendu,” he said sincerely. “For the guidance. And for your patience.”

Nix followed suit, though a little awkwardly.
“And… thanks for scaring off the spiders. And for making us talk.”

Bendu chuckled, his voice like the bedrock of the world.
“I didn’t make you do anything. I simply showed you where to begin. The rest… is yours.”

They both nodded. And then, side by side, they set off across the desert once more.

Not as adversaries. But as allies.

The sun was beginning to set over the Atollon base, casting a warm golden glow across the desert landscape. Nix carefully guided the speeder into the hangar and hopped off, feeling that pleasant kind of tiredness after a strange but meaningful day. Her mind kept drifting back to everything she had experienced with Kanan—and with the strange being called Bendu. She hadn’t expected things between her and Kanan to shift so quickly… but after their duel, she sensed a fragile kind of trust beginning to form.

Lost in thought, she wandered toward her quarters, but slowed when she passed one of the cargo containers converted into a makeshift workshop. Laughter drifted from inside—light, genuine—and she found herself smiling. That simple sound helped dissolve the lingering doubts that had once clung to her like shadows.

When she stepped inside, she saw Ezra and Sabine seated at a cluttered table, surrounded by spare parts, tools, and tangles of wires. They looked focused, but relaxed.

“No, no, no—that doesn’t go there!” Sabine said, laughing as Ezra held up a wire with a look of mild distress.

“Why not? It looks exactly like the last one!” Ezra protested, glancing up and grinning when he saw Nix in the doorway. “Nix! Finally, someone reasonable. Please tell her that a wire is a wire, no matter what color it is.”

Sabine rolled her eyes. “It’s not just a wire. That’s an armored conduit. And it’s not green!”

“Maybe you need a color guide,” Nix said with a teasing smile as she sat down next to Ezra and surveyed the mess on the table. “So… what exactly are you building? Or destroying?”

Ezra pulled a face. “Trying to upgrade this training droid. So far, I think we’re just helping it die a noble death.”

“We’re making amazing progress,” Sabine added dryly, shooting Ezra a look. “It only almost exploded ten minutes ago.”

“Once!” Ezra huffed. “It happened once!”

“You say that every time,” Sabine laughed, then turned to Nix, who was watching their back-and-forth with clear amusement. “So, what was your big mysterious mission with Kanan? You two took off in a real hurry.”

Nix hesitated for a moment. She couldn’t—and didn’t want to—tell them everything. “Let’s just say we took the first step toward not seeing each other as walking threats. Surprisingly… no blood was spilled.”

Sabine grinned. “That actually sounds like progress. Honestly, I didn’t think you two would ever get there.”

“And we didn’t even need any extreme measures,” Nix shrugged with a faint smile. “No dark rituals. No sacrifices.”

Ezra raised a brow, amused. “Honestly kind of disappointed. I was hoping for at least one dark secret.”

“Maybe next time,” Nix winked, then paused, her voice turning a little more thoughtful. “Do you guys really think Kanan’s starting to be okay with me?”

Ezra nodded without hesitation. “Definitely. I think he sees how hard you’re trying. And the rest of us do too. Hera said you picked up the ship controls pretty fast.”

Nix blinked in surprise. “She actually said that?”

Sabine nodded. “Yeah. Hera doesn’t throw around compliments much, so… yeah, I’d say you made an impression.”

Nix was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. It was strange—to feel truly seen. After so long being treated like a weapon, this… this was almost unreal.

Ezra bumped her lightly with his elbow. “Guess that makes it official. You’re one of us now. Congrats,” he said with mock seriousness.

“Let’s not go throwing around words like official just yet,” Nix smirked. “So what, does this mean I have to help with this disaster of a droid too?”

“Absolutely,” Sabine grinned. “At least then we’ve got someone to save us when Ezra blows it up again.”

Ezra groaned and rolled his eyes, but all three of them burst into laughter. Nix felt the tension of the day finally begin to slip away. The laughter, the teasing, the mess of tools and wires on the table—it was all ordinary. And that made it precious. She wasn’t just someone they tolerated anymore. Not a shadow from the past.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she was part of something real. Something worth protecting.

And that was enough.

Chapter Text

It was a quiet afternoon on Chopper base. The sun was beginning its slow descent toward the horizon, casting the sky in hues of orange and deep red. In a secluded corner of the base, hidden in the shadows of the landing platforms, Ezra stood with his lightsaber ignited—its green blade reflecting off the dust like shifting glass. Across from him, Nix faced him silently, her stance relaxed, but her eyes sharp. These were the moments she craved most—the rhythm of the blades giving her something she'd rarely known: balance.

“Come on,” Ezra called, a teasing tone in his voice. “Not even gonna try to surprise me today?”

“Really?” Nix replied with a smirk. “You weren’t exactly thrilled last time.”

“Yeah, well—I’m still getting sand out of my hair,” he muttered with mock bitterness.

“We’re literally in the middle of a desert, Ezra,” she said, taking a casual step forward. “Wherever you fall, there’s gonna be sand.”
Their blades clashed with a sharp hiss, green and violet flashing in the dimming light.

But after the brief clash, both eased up again, beginning to circle each other slowly. Ezra used the moment to ask something that had been on his mind for a while.

“So... were all lightsabers in your time like yours? You know—with the sparking, pulsing blade and looking so—”

“Unstable?” Nix finished for him, raising an eyebrow. “No. That wasn’t the norm. Some did it on purpose. It’s the kyber crystal.”

“Wait, you mean it's... special?” Ezra asked, blocking her next lazy swing.

“Not exactly,” she said. “You probably know red crystals aren’t natural. Sith have to take a regular one and, well... bleed it. There’s a ritual for that. If it works, you get a normal red blade.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Ezra asked.

“Well, then you get... this.” She motioned to her own lightsaber. “In the best-case scenario. My crystal cracked halfway through the process. Nearly killed me. That’s why it’s purple. The bleeding failed. If I showed you the crystal, you’d see—it’s half blue, half red. And unless you rebuild the hilt to handle the instability, it could explode in your hand.”

Ezra blinked. “That... sounds kind of insane. Is it really that dangerous?”

Nix met his eyes. “You have to give it everything. And yeah—it can kill you. That’s why I never tried again. And why I never earned the title of ‘Darth’.”

Ezra opened his mouth to ask more—he had about a thousand questions—but the chirp of his comm cut through the quiet. Hera’s voice came through immediately.

“Ezra, Nix—report to command. Now.”

They exchanged a glance and powered down their blades in sync.

“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t gonna be good?” Ezra muttered.

“Because it never is,” Nix said with a faint smile. “Let’s go.”

They headed quickly toward the command center. Sabine was already waiting for them, arms crossed, wearing a mildly impatient expression. When they arrived, Commander Sato, Rex, and Hera were gathered around the holotable, clearly in the middle of a tense discussion.

“We’re here,” Ezra said. “What’s going on?”

Hera looked up. “We just got a message from Saw Gerrera. He claims he’s located an Imperial interrogation station and is planning to destroy it.”

“Who is Saw Gerrera?” Sabine frowned, while Ezra looked more confused than anything.

“His methods are... questionable,” Rex added, his voice calm but laced with warning. “Gerrera always plays it hard. No hesitation. If he thinks something—or someone—is expendable, he won’t blink. That includes civilians… and allies. You need to be careful working with him.”

“Then why are we helping him?” Ezra asked.

“Because the situation’s more complicated now,” Sato explained. “We intercepted intel that an Imperial transport headed for the station is carrying prisoners—our people. If Saw goes in alone, he might not care whether those prisoners make it out alive.”

“Your job is to make sure they do,” Hera said. “Get them out, and get back here safely.”

Ezra nodded, glancing to Nix and Sabine. Both gave quiet nods of agreement.

“Just remember,” Rex warned, “Saw can be useful—but also dangerous. Stay out of conflict if you can, but don’t let him jeopardize the mission. Clear?”

Ezra nodded again. “Got it. We’ll handle it.”

“Your ship’s prepped and ready,” Hera added. “Good luck. And watch each other’s backs.”

Without another word, the trio turned and headed toward the hangar. Their shuttle was already waiting, engines warming. Ezra didn’t know exactly what they were flying into—but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be easy.

Nix walked beside him in silence, her gaze fixed ahead, as if she were already playing through every possible outcome in her head. Sabine cast a few glances at them, clearly thinking of something sarcastic to say—but, for once, kept it to herself.

The flight was short and quiet. Each of them was lost in their own thoughts—Ezra wondering how far he’d go to save others, Sabine double-checking her weapons and gear, and Nix... Nix just sat with her hands in her lap.

Their shuttle touched down in the hangar of Saw Gerrera’s ship, hissing steam rising all around them. It was a small but heavily armed vessel, clearly built for quick raids and hard exits. Ezra took a steady breath and stepped out first, followed closely by the two girls.

A group of armed fighters stood waiting. At their head was a man who looked older than he probably was—his face was hard, carved by years of war, and his eyes sharp with suspicion. Ezra figured this had to be Saw Gerrera.

“You the ones Sato sent?” Gerrera barked, scanning the trio.

Ezra nodded. “Yeah. I’m Ezra, this is Sabine, and that’s Nix.”

Gerrera’s eyes narrowed as they landed on Nix and Ezra. “Jedi, huh? Hope you're not like the ones I knew back in the Clone Wars.”

Ezra shot a glance at Nix, who raised an eyebrow and leaned toward him just enough to whisper, “So I’m a Jedi now?”

“Don’t ruin it for him,” Ezra muttered, smiling faintly.

Saw ignored their exchange and continued, “Your job’s simple. We’re hitting an Imperial transport on its way to an interrogation site. We’re expecting light escort—probably a few TIE fighters. We can handle that.”

Ezra wanted to respond, but Saw cut him off with a sharp gesture. “This is my op. I give the orders. If that’s a problem, you should’ve thought twice before getting on board.”

Ezra nodded, his expression tight. Sabine didn’t look thrilled either, and Nix just gave a small nod. There was something cold and practical in her posture—as if she already knew exactly how this would go.

“Good. Gear up,” Saw said, turning to his men. “We launch in ten.”

The rest of the prep was silent. Everyone checked their weapons, moved to their stations, and braced for what was coming. Nix leaned back against the wall, eyes closed for a moment, while Ezra stared out the viewport, watching the stars streak past as the ship leapt into hyperspace.
Despite trying to stay calm, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission was already spiraling out of the norm—and that with Gerrera involved, things were only going to get worse.

The drop out of hyperspace came fast. Ezra barely had time to register the stars snapping back into focus before the ship’s cannons opened fire. Gerrera’s ship lunged forward like a spear, and within seconds, the empty space around them lit up with bursts of green and blue.

Ezra stood behind the pilot, watching the battle unfold with growing unease. He’d fought in a lot of skirmishes with the Ghost crew, but Gerrera’s methods were brutal—efficient, but without hesitation. Sabine stood beside him, eyes scanning the battle map. Nix leaned silently against the bulkhead, like she was just waiting for her part to begin.

“Last TIE’s down,” the pilot reported. “Transport’s unguarded.”

“Perfect,” Saw grunted. “Move in. Prepare for boarding.”

Boarding was just as violent as the space fight. Gerrera’s fighters stormed through the corridors, gunning down every Imperial in their path—no warnings, no hesitation. Ezra flinched as he watched Saw personally shoot a young officer who had raised his hands in surrender.

“Hey! Saw!” Ezra shouted, horrified. “He was surrendering!”

Saw turned with a look that could cut durasteel. “They’re all the same, kid. If he had the chance, he’d do the same to you. Don’t forget why we’re here.”

While Ezra stood frozen in disbelief, Nix was already in motion. Without hesitation, she stepped forward, her lightsaber igniting with a sharp hiss. In one fluid sweep, she deflected a blaster bolt aimed at one of Saw’s soldiers, then spun and drove the blade straight into an oncoming trooper. No emotion. Just precision.

“You three—on me!” Saw ordered, nodding toward a side corridor. “We’re heading for the bridge.”

They followed Gerrera down a narrow corridor lit by flickering emergency lights. Ezra held his lightsaber ready. Sabine kept her blasters drawn, scanning every corner. Nix walked behind them, her own lightsaber now clipped to her belt but her posture tense—focused. Ready.

Suddenly, the doors ahead burst open in a hail of blaster fire. Ezra ignited his lightsaber instantly, deflecting bolts as they flew past. Sabine ducked behind a support beam and returned fire with sharp, calculated shots.

Nix moved like a shadow—fast, precise, unflinching. She vaulted over a console and landed in the middle of the firefight, blade snapping to life in her hand. In seconds, two guards dropped. The third hit the wall with a crash, hurled by a burst of raw Force.

Ezra and Sabine pressed forward, clearing the last of the resistance. As the final trooper fell, Nix powered down her lightsaber and straightened, her breathing steady, expression untouched.

Saw eyed them with a mix of approval and calculation. “You three might be more useful than I thought,” he said. “But we’re not done. Let’s move. Bridge’s close.”

Ezra shot a quick look at Nix, who just shrugged. No words were needed. They fell in behind Saw, ready for whatever else lay ahead.

When the group finally reached the bridge, Gerrera didn’t hesitate. He gave a sharp order to his men to eliminate every Imperial in sight—except for the commanding officer, who was quickly disarmed, bound, and forced to kneel in the center of the room. Nix studied him for a moment; his face was a blend of fear and defiance. Nothing new.

Gerrera turned to Sabine. “Set the transport to autopilot. It has to arrive at the interrogation station right on schedule.”

Sabine hesitated briefly but then nodded and moved to the control panel. Gerrera, meanwhile, pulled out his comlink and issued another order: “Bring in the charges. Set the timers. I want this whole ship to blow the second it hits the station.”

Ezra, who’d been silently observing until now, stepped forward, concern clear in his voice. “What about the prisoners? When are we going to free them?”

Gerrera turned to him, eyes hard. “We’re not. They stay onboard.”

“What?” Sabine spun around, her voice sharp. “You’re just going to let them die?”

“That’s the cost of completing this mission,” Gerrera replied flatly. “If the Empire scans the ship and doesn’t detect any lifeforms, they’ll blast it before it gets close.”

Ezra’s expression twisted in disbelief. “We can’t just sacrifice them. They’re our people!”

Nix, standing slightly apart, watched the argument in silence. In her time, sacrifice had been common. Expected. But something about the way Ezra and Sabine reacted stirred a strange flicker of uncertainty in her.

Then Ezra turned to her, desperate. “Nix, say something. What do you think?”

She was quiet for a moment, thinking fast. Then she said, steady and calm, “What if the ship sends out the identification codes? If it transmits the correct signal, maybe they won’t bother scanning it at all.”

Gerrera shot her a glare. “We don’t have those codes. And even if we did, the ship won’t transmit them automatically.”

Sabine looked up from the console, her tone thoughtful. “I can set an auto-transmission... but we’d need valid codes, otherwise it’s useless.”

Ezra latched onto the possibility. “So if we get the codes, we can save the prisoners?”

Gerrera paused, then nodded reluctantly. “Fine. And I think I know where to get them.” He turned toward the officer still kneeling on the floor, his eyes burning with defiance.

Gerrera stepped forward, raising his blaster. “Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Wait!” Ezra blurted. “You’re not going to torture him, are you?”

Gerrera glanced at the young Jedi with a mocking smirk. “What do you suggest, kid? Ask nicely?”

“Have you ever actually tried talking like a human being?” Ezra shot back. “You might be surprised how many people listen when you’re not waving a weapon in their face.”

Gerrera opened his mouth to respond, but Nix’s voice cut through, cold and precise. “I can get the information without laying a hand on him. I’ve done it before.”

Ezra turned to her, uncertain. Gerrera motioned her forward. “Go ahead. Show us.”

Nix stepped forward and slowly lowered herself to one knee in front of the officer. Her gold-tinged eyes met his with calm intensity.

“Will you give us the codes?” she asked, her voice even.

The officer sneered, jaw tight with pride. “I will never betray the Empire.”

Nix held his gaze for a second longer, then gave a small shrug. “Worth a shot.” She stood a little straighter and added, almost casually, “Don’t move.”

She extended her hand toward him.

At first, nothing happened. Then the man’s face began to tense. His eyes twitched, his breathing quickened. Within seconds, the stubborn glare was gone—replaced by a haunted, panicked stare. His shoulders trembled violently as if something cold and invisible had wrapped around him. He gasped, eyes wide and unfocused, struggling against phantoms no one else could see.

Ezra shifted uncomfortably, glancing between Nix and the officer. “What… what are you doing to him?”

“Don’t worry,” Nix said quietly, focused. “This is me being gentle.”

Then she leaned in closer to the officer, her voice a low whisper. “This can all stop right now. Just give us the codes. If you do, I’ll make sure they don’t kill you.”

The man’s hands trembled. His lips moved in broken murmurs. Tears streamed from his eyes. When he finally choked out a string of numbers, his voice was thin and fractured—like something inside him had cracked.

Nix eased her grip on his mind, and the officer collapsed to the floor, limp and shaking.

Gerrera watched the scene with a blank expression, then gave a nod. “Good work. Sabine, set up the comm signal. Ezra, Nix—go get the prisoners. And move fast.”

Nix stood up and turned to Ezra, who was still looking at her with a mix of awe and discomfort.

“What?” she asked quietly.

Ezra hesitated, his eyes drifting toward the officer curled on the floor. “I’m not sure... And honestly… that scares me a little.”

Nix didn’t defend herself. Her expression was calm, even. “I get it. But it works. And I didn’t hurt him.”

“I know,” Ezra said softly, “but still…” He shook his head. “Let’s just get those people out.”

Nix gave a short nod and followed him out of the room. She didn’t feel guilt. This was what she’d been trained for. Efficient. Tactical. Clean. And yet... somewhere deep in her chest, something flickered.

The corridors of the transport felt strangely quiet now. Like the air itself was holding its breath. Most of Saw's people had moved to other parts of the ship, leaving Ezra and Nix to walk the long halls mostly alone. Ezra led the way, while Nix followed behind him, her expression distant and contemplative.

He'd been trying to find the right way to ask the question that had been weighing on his mind since they left the bridge. Eventually, he drew a breath and glanced back at her.

“Nix… can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she replied softly, curious. “What’s on your mind?”

Ezra hesitated, clearly unsure if he should bring it up. But he went on. “That officer… what you did to him? He looked really scared.”

Nix gave a small shrug, brushing it off like it was no big deal. “He’ll be fine. I just pulled a few fears and bad memories to the surface. It’s a mental strike—overwhelms the mind enough to break through resistance. Once I stop, the effects fade pretty quickly.”

Ezra frowned—not out of judgment, just trying to make sense of it. “We needed the codes, yeah, but… didn’t that feel like too much?”

Nix tilted her head, clearly puzzled. “Too much? He’ll live, don’t worry about that.”

“That’s not really what I meant,” Ezra said, more carefully now. “It just felt... off. Wrong.”

Nix looked away. “We get the result. That’s what matters.”

“But at what cost?” Ezra asked softly. “I mean… is that really all that matters to you?”

That made her pause. She didn’t look angry—just… uncertain. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess I never thought about it like that.”

Ezra walked a little further in silence before asking, “What do you think of this whole mission? Gerrera’s way of doing things?”

Nix sighed. “It’s familiar. That’s the strange part. For the first time since I woke up, I actually feel like I know what I’m doing.”

Ezra slowed and looked at her. “That’s not necessarily a good thing. We try to be better than this,” he said quietly. “We don’t just take people out because it’s easier. We don’t leave others behind. We protect who we can.”

“I get that,” she said. “But… protecting means making the hard calls. You hesitate, you die. Or someone else does.”

“Maybe,” Ezra said. “But I still think we can fight without becoming the thing we’re fighting against.”

Nix didn’t answer right away. Her gaze dropped to the floor, fingers tightening around the hilt of her lightsaber. “It’s not easy. Trying to unlearn everything.”

Ezra offered her a small smile. “You don’t have to figure it out all at once. Just… start somewhere.”

They walked in silence for a moment before Ezra continued, softer now. “Look, I’m not judging you. I just think… maybe you could try doing things differently sometimes. I get that this is what you were taught. But here… we try to do better.”

He watched her profile, faintly lit by the ship’s flickering hallway lights. She was calm—maybe too calm. And that unsettled him. He could feel her good intentions in the Force, but there was something else too. Something colder. Something he recognized from other people… from Maul, from the Inquisitors. From the dark side.

And yet, he couldn’t stay away from her.

Nix didn’t seem offended. If anything, she looked like she was seriously considering it. “Maybe you’re right,” she murmured.

Ezra smiled, nodding once. “Come on. We should get moving.”

By the time they reached the detention level, most of Gerrera’s fighters had cleared out. The halls were still and dim, filled only with the quiet hum of the ship’s systems. Ezra moved ahead with purpose, lightsaber at the ready, while Nix followed silently, her gaze unfocused—drawn inward more than outward.

As they reached the holding cells, the silence shifted. Behind durasteel doors, muffled voices stirred. The moment Ezra unlocked the first door, a gaunt man flinched, shrinking away from the light—until he realized it wasn't more troopers, but someone else entirely.

Ezra lowered his saber and raised a hand gently. “You're safe now. We're with the Rebellion. We're getting you out of here.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, like something out of a dream. The prisoner blinked. Then nodded.

Nix stood just behind him, watching silently as Ezra moved from cell to cell. About ten prisoners in total—exhausted, underfed, barely more than shadows. But as the doors opened, something shifted in them too. Postures straightened. Eyes cleared. They weren’t soldiers anymore… just people who’d been lost, and now, maybe, were found.

Nix didn’t speak. But the flickers of hope on their faces stirred something quiet in her. She’d seen prisoners before. She’d guarded some. Interrogated others. And in her time, they were numbers, objectives, liabilities. Not... this.

When they reached the last cell, Ezra turned and caught her eye. He smiled—genuine, if tired. “Thanks… for hearing me out.”

She hesitated, surprised by the warmth in his voice. Then gave a small nod and returned the smile—brief, but sincere.

As they guided the prisoners back through the ship, Nix stayed near the rear of the group. Ezra walked ahead, exchanging soft reassurances with those who asked questions, his presence calm and steady. And every now and then, Nix caught herself watching him—not just for tactical awareness, but for something else. Something harder to define.

She’d been raised to believe the mission came first. Results mattered more than methods. And for so long, she hadn’t questioned that. But now? Now she wasn’t so sure.

Ezra was different. He saw people not just as allies or enemies—but as individuals. Even someone like that officer. And maybe that was why his disappointment stung more than it should have.

Ezra, walking ahead, was thinking too.

He knew Nix had done what she thought was necessary. He even understood it, in a way. But it still made something uneasy stir inside him. She was powerful—more capable than she let on—but she’d been taught to fight like a weapon. Like something sharp and silent. And that scared him, even though he didn’t want it to.

But then he’d seen her with the prisoners. Quiet. Watchful. Softening, if only slightly.
And that gave him hope.

Ezra and Nix helped the last of the captives onto the Gerrera’s ship just as Saw appeared again, dragging the bound Imperial officer behind him. He spotted Ezra and made a beeline toward him.

“This one’s your problem now, Jedi,” he said gruffly, shoving the officer forward. “Since you were so insistent on keeping him alive, do what you want with him. I’d have wasted less time.”

Ezra didn’t argue. He simply caught the officer and nodded sharply. “We’ll drop him somewhere along the way. We don’t take prisoners.”

Gerrera scoffed but didn’t push further.

Just then Sabine arrived back into the ship. Her shoulders were tense, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on her brow—but her expression was calm. Focused.

Ezra turned toward her the moment she entered. “How’d it go?”

Sabine gave a nod, her voice low but steady. “It’s done. Autopilot’s locked in. The ship will reach the interrogation station in a few hours, just as planned. I also patched in a comm delay, so the signal looks organic. They won’t question it.”

Gerrera gave a curt nod. “Good. Let’s move!”

His crew jumped into motion. Within just a few moments, the ship jumped to hyperspace.

When things finally calmed down, Gerrera approached Nix. He tapped her lightly on the shoulder and said in a low, serious voice, “Walk with me for a second.”

She blinked, a little surprised, but nodded. Ezra, noticing the exchange, followed at a discreet distance—close enough to listen.

“You’ve got talent,” Gerrera said plainly once they were aside. There was no smile in his voice—just steel and certainty. “More than I expected from one of Sato’s crew. I could use someone like you. Someone who doesn’t flinch when it matters. If you ever get tired of following orders and want to do some real good, you know where to find me.”

Nix didn’t answer right away. The offer was tempting—Gerrera was giving her something rare: a choice. But after a quiet pause, she shook her head.

“I appreciate it,” she said calmly. “I really do. But for now… I think I need to stay where I am.”

Gerrera looked disappointed, but then gave her a small nod. “Fair enough. If you ever change your mind, the offer’s open.”

Nix nodded, and as he turned to leave, she added softly, “Thanks, Saw.”

Ezra had stepped back before Nix noticed, pretending he hadn’t overheard a word—but the truth was written across his face. He’d braced himself to hear her say yes, to watch her choose a different path. But she hadn’t.

And for reasons he wasn’t ready to name, that mattered more than he wanted to admit.

They didn’t talk about it. Not then. There was still too much to do.

Soon after, Ezra, Nix, and Sabine boarded their own ship. The rescued prisoners were already on board—exhausted but safe. Nix had made sure they had water and a place to rest, her movements quiet and efficient. Ezra helped load supplies while Sabine checked the nav system.

The Imperial officer, still pale and disoriented, sat near the back of the hold. His wrists were unshackled, but he hadn’t tried to move. Ezra approached him slowly, crouching to his level.

“We’ll be dropping the others near a Rebel outpost,” Ezra said. “You don’t have to go with them. If you want to disappear, we can make that happen.”

The man blinked, clearly not expecting kindness. “You’re… letting me go?”

Ezra nodded. “You gave us the codes. That matters. You saved lives today, even if you didn’t mean to.”

The officer looked away, shame flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t think… I mean, after today… I can’t go back.”

Ezra gave a small, almost tired smile. “Maybe not. Maybe it’s just the beginning.”

He stood and stepped back, glancing toward the others. Nix was at the viewport, watching hyperspace rush past them like streams of starlight. Sabine sat at the controls, focused but calm.

And for the first time that day, Ezra allowed himself to breathe.

Ezra stood near the rear viewport, arms crossed, watching the stars stretch into streaks of light before dissolving into the blue swirl of hyperspace. The silence around him wasn’t heavy—it was thoughtful. A pause between moments.

Nix stopped in the doorway, one hand resting lightly on the frame. She watched him for a while, saying nothing at first.

Then, softly, “Ezra… I wanted to say something.”

He turned toward her, eyebrows raised slightly. Curious. Open.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. Back on the bridge. I know that… what I did isn’t something you or the others really approve of.”

Ezra gave her a small, sincere smile. “I get it. Changing how you fight—how you survive—it’s not something that just… happens overnight.”

Nix exhaled slowly and nodded. She could’ve agreed. She could’ve told him it was just habit, just reflex.

But that wouldn’t have been true.

“I’m not saying I’ll change,” she admitted. “But maybe… maybe I’ll try looking for other ways sometimes.” She paused, then added, with the faintest curve of a smile, “But only because of you.”

She meant it more than she let on. Ezra could feel it in her voice—quiet, uncertain, but honest.

He glanced back at the swirling lights outside the viewport. He wanted to say something back—something real. Something that told her he didn’t want to fix her, just walk beside her.

But no words came.

So instead, he reached out and gently touched her hand where it rested on the doorframe. Just enough to say: I’m here.

“I’m glad you’re with us,” he said softly.

And he meant every word.

Chapter Text

Late afternoon light filtered through the improvised workshop on the edge of Chopper Base, casting warm reflections on metal surfaces. The air carried the scent of oil and scorched circuits. At one end of the room, Captain Rex was hunched over a damaged blaster rifle, methodically repairing its housing. Despite the gray in his beard and the faint scarring across his face—remnants of a lifetime spent in battle—he still moved with purpose, a soldier through and through.

Nix leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching him work. “Funny how wars always feel the same,” she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’d think something like war would change more with time. But I’m starting to believe… it never really does.”

Rex glanced up, chuckling. “You know, I never thought I’d be fixing gear next to someone who fought in a completely different war than me.” His tone was light, but something thoughtful lingered in his eyes. “Life’s strange that way, huh?”

Nix nodded slowly. “Yeah. The past and present keep overlapping, and… sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever truly catch up. Everything I once knew is gone.”

Rex paused what he was doing, resting his hands on the table. “I get it. After the Clone Wars ended, after the Republic fell… I felt like I’d lost everything too. But I’m still here. Sometimes the only thing you can do is keep moving forward—and try to make something new out of what’s left.”

“I’m trying,” Nix said softly. But her eyes dropped for a moment, clouded with something more vulnerable. “Still… I wish they’d taken me on today’s mission. Ezra, the others... I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like I’m still not really part of this crew.”

Rex offered a small, reassuring smile. “Trust me, Nix. It’s not about going on every mission. You being here—it means something. I’ve seen this enough times to know when someone’s trying. And you are.”

Before she could answer, something outside caught her eye—two figures moving quickly across the landing field. It was Ezra and Kanan, returning from somewhere in a hurry.

Nix straightened. “Something’s up,” she murmured under her breath.

Rex followed her gaze. “You should check it out,” he said with a knowing look.

“Yeah,” Nix nodded, a spark returning to her eyes. “Besides, I’ve probably annoyed you enough already.” She grinned, already heading for the door.

Ezra spotted her first and waved. “Nix! Perfect timing. We might need your help.”

“What’s going on?” she asked immediately, frowning as her eyes flicked between him and Kanan—who looked significantly less enthusiastic.

“We’ve got a problem,” Kanan said, voice tight. “Maul’s taken the crew. He’s demanding the Sith holocron in exchange for their lives.”

Nix’s expression darkened. She understood Kanan’s tension now. “You want me to come with you? I can help.”

“Ezra does,” Kanan muttered. “I’m still not convinced.”

Ezra shot him a look. “The more of us there are, the better our chances. Maul won’t expect us to show up in force. And Nix—she’s a Sith. If it comes to a fight, having her with us could tip the scales.”

Kanan gave a dry, humorless chuckle. “One Sith to deal with another. Great.” He exhaled. “Fine. But we move fast.”

Nix’s pulse quickened. Ezra had told her about Maul before. She couldn’t deny the pull she felt—a strange curiosity. A desire to see him face-to-face. But more than that, she knew the Ghost crew was in danger.

“Then let’s go,” she said firmly, falling into step beside the two Jedi as they made their way toward the hangar.

The journey to Vizsla Keep in the Bright Jewel system passed mostly in tense silence.

Ezra was at the controls of a small, stripped-down shuttle—fast, but unarmed. If anything went wrong out there in open space, they wouldn’t stand a chance. The Sith holocron sat heavy in his palm, radiating a subtle, cold pressure. Kanan sat in the co-pilot seat, quiet, thoughtful. Nix was in the back, occasionally checking navigation—but mostly listening.

“You wanted it. Now you’ve got it,” Kanan said calmly, nodding to the holocron. “If you really think it’ll help us against Maul... open it up.”

Ezra hesitated. His eyes dropped to the darkly glowing object in his hand, feeling the pull of it. There was power inside. He could sense it. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t the path he wanted to take. After a short pause, he shook his head and handed it back to Kanan.

“I’d rather hear what you have to say,” he said firmly. “What’s our plan?”

Kanan accepted it with care, nodding in approval. “I think we oughta play it by ear.”

Ezra raised an eyebrow. “How can you take this lightly?”

“The greatest power Maul has is our fear that he’ll hurt our friends,” Kanan said, his voice calm and steady. “We have to control that fear. Stay relaxed.”

Ezra exhaled slowly and tightened his grip on the controls. “Okay. Relaxed it is.”

“You don’t sound relaxed,” Kanan said, smirking.

“Yeah, well, I look relaxed,” Ezra shot back, smiling despite himself.

From the back, Nix let out a soft laugh and leaned forward slightly. “You know,” she said dryly, “if you ever wanted advice from someone who actually knows how holocrons work… I’m right here.”

Ezra glanced back at her with a small grin. “Think we could use it against Maul?”

“More likely, he’d use it against you,” she replied, her voice low and serious. “That kind of power... it pulls at you, especially when you’re desperate. It doesn’t make you stronger. It convinces you to do things you never thought you’d be capable of.”

Ezra’s smile faded. He looked down, then exhaled again, slower this time.

“So why doesn’t it pull you under?” Kanan asked, the question casual on the surface—but something wary flickered underneath. “Doesn’t that power tempt you too?”

“Of course it does,” Nix answered without hesitation. “But there’s a difference between someone who falls into the dark... and someone who was trained in it from the start.” Her tone stayed even, unshaken. “I was taught to control it when I was still a kid. The trick is knowing where your line is—and not crossing it.”

“I hope they taught you well,” Kanan said quietly, gripping the holocron a little tighter.

Nix didn’t respond immediately. She knew he still didn’t fully trust her. But he’d brought her on this mission—and that meant something.

“So what exactly am I supposed to do?” she asked, trying to sound casual. But there was a spark of anticipation in her voice. “Wait in the shadows and then surprise him with a lightsaber to the back?”

“You’ve got confidence, I’ll give you that,” Kanan muttered. “But it won’t be that simple. Maul’s not just powerful—he’s cunning. We stick together. We stay cautious.”

“Yeah. That’s what everyone always says,” Nix replied, sounding just a little disappointed as she leaned back in her seat.

Ezra was about to say something more when the navigation alarm chirped. The stars outside stretched, then snapped back into pinpoints as the shuttle dropped out of hyperspace—directly into view of Vizsla Keep.

“We’re here,” Ezra said quietly, a nervous breath slipping past his lips.

Nix leaned forward, eyes narrowing as she studied the looming structure ahead. Something in the Force felt... off. A strange tension vibrated just beneath her skin. She didn’t know what was waiting for them in there—but whatever it was, she was ready.

The small shuttle touched down smoothly inside the hangar of the abandoned Vizsla Keep—right beside the familiar silhouette of the Ghost. Through the viewport, Nix watched as the Ghost’s ramp slowly lowered... and a presence stepped into view. The moment she saw him, she felt it—that chilling, oppressive weight in the Force.

Maul.

Nix narrowed her eyes, watching in silence as he approached. There was something oddly hunched about his posture, but he moved with the lethal grace of a predator. His red skin was marked with black tattoos stretching across his face and down his neck, and the small curved horns on his head gave him a monstrous silhouette. But it was his eyes that unsettled her most—glowing gold and red, burning with fanatic intensity. Familiar. Maybe too familiar.

His footsteps echoed across the cold metal floor as he extended his arms in a theatrical gesture.

Ezra turned to Nix and lowered his voice. “Stay back for now. We’ll signal you through the com if things go sideways.”

Nix frowned, clearly not happy with that plan. “You’re sure? What if he tries to kill you the second he sees you?”

“He won’t. Not until he gets what he came for,” Ezra replied, more confidently than he felt.

Nix opened her mouth to argue again, but stopped herself. She nodded instead. “Fine. But if anything happens, I’m coming in.”

Ezra gave her a quick nod and stepped off the ramp, moving to help Kanan down beside him. Nix stayed near the door, watching carefully from the shadows, keeping herself hidden from view.

“Over here, Master Jedi,” Maul’s voice rang out—mockingly polite, but with a sharp edge. “Just follow the sound of my voice.”

Kanan didn’t reply. Jaw tight, he kept walking toward him.

Maul turned to Ezra, his tone shifting into something almost... familiar. “Welcome, my young apprentice. I trust you found the Sith holocron illuminating?”

Ezra didn’t flinch. “I don’t see our friends.”

“They will remain my guests, until we conclude our business,” Maul said with a too-smooth smile. He gestured behind him, and two droids stepped forward from an open doorway. Their metallic bodies gleamed, weapons ready in their mechanical hands. Nix didn’t recognize the model, but one look told her they could be dangerous.

Maul turned toward Kanan. “I’ll take you to them now.” Then, to the droids, “Escort my apprentice to the command center.”

He paused only to glare at Ezra. “Uhh, if you attempt to escape, or if the droids are deactivated, your friends will die.”

Ezra’s reply was low and resigned. “Good to know.” Without another word, he followed the droids out of the hangar.

From her spot just inside the shuttle, Nix clenched her hand around her lightsaber hilt, but held back. Maul turned and gave Kanan a small nod.

“This way, Master Jedi,” he said with that same cold smoothness, leading Kanan away. Their footsteps eventually faded, leaving Nix completely alone in the hangar.

She slipped quietly out of the shuttle once the coast was clear. Moving fast and silent, she crossed to the Ghost’s hull, pressing herself against the side and closing her eyes. She reached out through the Force, carefully listening.

There. She felt them—Sabine, Hera and Zeb. Alive, but anxious. Their emotions vibrated like a low hum across the Force. Fear. Frustration.

“Okay... easy,” she whispered to herself, quickly weighing her options. But then a different sensation hit her—a sharp spike in the Force, like static behind her eyes. At the same time, her comlink crackled violently, but no voice came through.

“Hello?” she asked quickly, switching to a return frequency. Nothing. Just silence.

She closed her eyes again, focusing harder. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She could feel it: something had gone very wrong. And someone was in danger.

Without hesitation, she ran—drawn forward by the Force—until she reached the outer edge of the hangar’s barrier. Her eyes scanned the darkness beyond, searching...

And then she saw it.

Floating in space, clinging to the wing of a Maul’s ship—Kanan. Struggling. Alone.

“Zar’za,” she cursed under her breath in her native tongue, extending her arm instantly. The Force surged through her as she reached out, gripping his presence like a lifeline. The void resisted—cold, immense, unforgiving—but she pushed harder. Sweat pricked at her brow.

Bit by bit, she dragged him back. Inch by inch, she reeled him through the field and into the hangar. And when he finally crossed the threshold, she let out a gasp and helped guide him gently to the floor.

He was safe. Bruised, shaken... but safe.

Kanan was still catching his breath, rising unsteadily to his knees.

“You okay?” Nix asked, gripping his shoulder to steady him.

He turned toward her, a mix of surprise and genuine gratitude flickering across his face. “I think so.”

“What happened?” she pressed, helping him to his feet.

“Maul tried to get rid of me,” Kanan said bluntly. Even if he was thankful for the rescue, his tone remained cautious—bordering on cold. “But that doesn’t matter right now.”

Nix tensed slightly, lips pressing together. She took a deep breath to keep her emotions in check. “Hera and the others are on the Ghost. They’re alive—but still prisoners. We have to help them.”

Kanan hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “Right. Let’s move.”

But before they could take a single step, another of Maul’s droids rolled into the hangar—its wheels screeching against the floor. Both Nix and Kanan instinctively pressed against the hull of the ship they’d arrived in, ducking low behind its shadow. The droid moved past without noticing them, heading directly toward the Ghost before disappearing inside.

“That’s not good,” Nix muttered, her hand already tightening around her lightsaber hilt.

“We have to move fast,” Kanan agreed. “We’ll try to get in another way.”

Nix nodded, and together they leapt up to the top of the Ghost in a series of quick, silent jumps, moving toward the upper hatch. Carefully, they made their way through the narrow corridors until they reached a small balcony that overlooked the ship’s cargo bay.

Below them, Hera, Sabine, and Zeb were kneeling on the floor with their hands bound. Hera looked determined despite the situation, but it was clear from their expressions—they were bracing for the worst. Chopper lay powered down next to them, and two of Maul’s droids stood guard behind them.

Just as Nix was assessing her next move, the third droid from the hangar entered the room. It let out a burst of binary communication, and the other two immediately raised their blasters aiming straight at the captives.

Nix didn’t hesitate.

Her hand shot forward, and a burst of blue lightning arced from her fingertips, frying the nearest droid’s circuits instantly. Sparks flew as it collapsed with a heavy clank. At the same moment, Kanan vaulted from the balcony, landing between the remaining two droids. With a single clean motion of his lightsaber, he decapitated them both—their heads clattering loudly to the floor. With a swift wave of the Force, he snapped the prisoners’ restraints.

“Kanan!” Hera scrambled to her feet. “Where’s Ezra?”

“With Maul,” Kanan said curtly. “Let’s go.”

Nix lingered on the balcony a moment longer, watching the others recover. Sabine glanced up, spotted her, and gave a quick, grateful wave. Nix returned a small nod and the faintest smile that almost didn’t reach her eyes, while Zeb rushed over to reboot Chopper. The droid buzzed awake, confused and blinking.

Nix dropped down and hurried to catch up with the others. “Ezra should be on the command center,” she said to Kanan once she was beside him.

But Kanan stopped abruptly and turned to her. “I know. Stay here. Cover our flank in case more droids show up.”

“What?” Nix blinked, stunned. “I can help! I know how holocrons work, and I—”

“There’s no time for that,” Kanan interrupted, his tone sharp. “You stay here. That’s final.”

Sabine and Hera exchanged uncertain looks.

“She could come with us,” Hera offered carefully. “She’s already done more than enough to earn our trust.”

“Yeah, and if she knows how those holocrons operate…” Sabine added.

Zeb gave a silent nod in agreement.

Kanan didn’t budge. “Those are good arguments. But I’m not comfortable walking into a room with two dark side users and hoping it all works out. We’re here to help Ezra. Not to risk losing him.”

“You can’t be serious,” Nix said, her voice tight with frustration and something sharper—hurt.

“I’m sorry, Nix,” Kanan replied calmly. “But if you really want to help Ezra… stay back.”

With that, he turned and headed down the corridor, the rest of the team following behind him. Reluctant but silent. Nix remained standing there, alone in the dim hallway between the hangar and the command center, the hum of tension still crackling in the air around her.

She didn’t move.

For a few seconds, she just stood there, frozen in place, her breath caught somewhere between her chest and her throat. Her eyes were still locked on the place where the others had gone—like maybe, if she stared long enough, they’d come back. But they didn’t.

They just left her behind.

Her thoughts tangled and twisted. She’d tried so hard. She knew what she was—what they saw her as. A Sith. Dangerous. Unstable. And no matter how much she gave, it was never enough.

The heat started in her chest. Anger. Hurt. That hollow, stinging ache of being pushed aside one more time.

“Fine,” she hissed under her breath, then louder—too loud. “Fine! Fuck you, then!”

The words echoed off the walls, bitter and sharp. And the moment they left her lips, she knew she was losing control.

“No. No, not again,” she whispered, pressing her eyes shut, fighting the surge. She couldn’t afford to lose it now. She couldn’t be what they thought she was. She couldn’t prove them right.

Not today.

She clenched her fists and dropped into a slow, steady rhythm of breath, reciting the only thing that had ever anchored her.

“Peace is a lie,” she murmured. “There is only passion…”

Her voice trembled but didn’t break.

“Through passion, I gain strength…”

Her fingers relaxed slightly. Her heartbeat slowed. She was almost there.

“Through strength, I gain pow—”

Then it hit her.

A violent jolt in the Force—raw, hungry, and wrong. Like a wound tearing open in the galaxy itself. Nix gasped as the shockwave tore through her mind, blasting past her defenses. It wasn’t hers. She knew that kind of power. Not from experience—but from memory.

From others. From Sith who had fallen deep into their own madness.

She opened her eyes. And there he was.

Maul.

He moved quickly through a side corridor, his silhouette cutting through the dim light like a blade. He didn’t see her. He didn’t sense her. He was consumed—his mind an inferno, his aura dragging behind him like a stormcloud of fury and obsession. The Force around him was twisted. Chaotic. Dangerous.

Nix couldn’t look away. His presence reminded of something—Sith who devoured each other in their lust for power. The ones her master had warned her about. The ones who mistook frenzy for strength.

Her breathing hitched. Her fingers curled again. So much emotion.

She thought she’d buried it. She thought she had control. But now it surged—hot and sharp and loud. The frustration. The shame. The old wound of being abandoned. All of it crackled in her veins.

“Stay calm…” she whispered, pleading. But the words were hollow. She was already past the point of calm.

Maul was heading toward his ship, unaware, manic energy radiating off him like heat from a fire.

She knew she shouldn’t interfere. Knew this wasn’t part of the plan. The others were probably safe. The mission was nearly over.

But something inside her snapped.

She didn’t ignite her saber. She didn’t need to. Nix raised her hand, jaw clenched, and pulled.

“This might be a mistake,” she muttered—right before the Force exploded from her like a whip.

Maul’s body jerked mid-step. He was yanked backward with brutal speed and slammed against the corridor wall. The impact echoed like a thunderclap. He crumpled to the ground, stunned—then turned, eyes burning, confused, and furious.

And Nix stood still, breathing hard, her hand still half-raised—staring at him, knowing she’d just done exactly what she swore she wouldn’t.

"You?" Maul finally turned to face her, his eyes narrowing. "Strange. I felt your presence... but I didn’t think you’d be important."

He stood, slowly, brushing himself off with a faint sneer. His gaze lingered on her for a moment—curious, almost intrigued—then he shook his head, impatient. "But I don’t have time for this."

With a snap-hiss, his double-bladed lightsaber ignited, casting the corridor in a hellish red glow.

Before Nix could speak, he lunged.

Her violet blade flashed to life just in time to meet his. Sparks flew as their sabers clashed, the corridor ringing with the sound of their collision. Nix fought fiercely—driven by pure instinct and emotion. Anger fueled her strikes. She moved fast, sharp, wild—less technique, more fury.

But her body didn’t respond like it once did.

Her reactions were slower than they should’ve been. Her breath came faster than it should have. Her connection to the Force still wasn't what it had been before… and deep down, she knew it.

Still, she pressed harder.

She lashed out with sweeping strikes, kicks, and elbows, forcing Maul to adapt. She hurled nearby crates at him with the Force, driving him back momentarily.

Maul staggered a few steps, breathing heavily. He’d underestimated her. Her fighting style wasn’t like anything he was used to—reckless, improvised, unpredictable.

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. A sliver of recognition. Maybe even admiration. But it didn’t last.

"Impressive," he hissed, more irritated than impressed. With a low snarl, he came at her again.

This time, he had her rhythm.

Their blades clashed again and again, fast and violent. Nix fought with everything she had, but Maul began retreating—deliberate, calculated—toward the pressurized airlock.

And then she saw her chance.

He slipped—barely—and she spun, driving her saber hard. The hit knocked him to the ground. She raised her blade, ready to strike—

"Nix, stop!" Ezra’s voice rang out from behind.

She froze.

The hesitation cost her.

Maul reached out and hurled her backwards with the Force. She hit the wall hard, the breath knocked from her lungs. Before she could recover, he was already on his feet, sprinting toward the airlock.

She scrambled to stop him, but it was too late. The doors slammed shut. He was gone.

"Nix? Are you okay?" Ezra approached her cautiously.

She gave a small nod, unable to speak. Her chest burned, not from pain, but from shame. Her shoulders trembled—not from exhaustion—but because she knew what had just happened.

She’d lost control. Again.

This wasn’t a victory. This wasn’t justice. It wasn’t even revenge.

It was weakness.

I thought I was ready, she thought bitterly.

She looked up as the others approached. Hera, Sabine, Zeb, Chopper—alive and safe. Kanan followed behind, silent, unreadable.

"You sure you’re okay?" Ezra asked again, his voice soft, worried.

"Me?" Nix exhaled shakily and forced herself upright. She didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. Instead, she redirected, quickly. "I should be asking you. What happened? What was Maul after?"

Ezra hesitated. "He wanted to merge the Jedi and Sith holocrons. He thought… he thought he’d find some kind of answer. Something important. But I—" He looked away. "I think I stopped it."

"The important thing is," Hera said gently, stepping closer, "that we’re all safe. All of us." Her gaze flicked to Nix, and she offered a small, grateful smile. "I’m glad you were here."

"Thanks," Nix murmured, unsure how to respond. Her eyes flicked to Kanan, who remained in the back, watching. His expression didn’t give much away. But after a beat… he nodded.

A small nod. But it meant something.

"Well," Zeb muttered, breaking the silence with a shrug, "maybe it’s time we finally go home, huh?"

"Agreed," Sabine said, throwing Ezra a quick glance. "We’ve had enough drama for one day."

Ezra gave a tired nod. "Yeah. Home sounds good."

They turned to go. Nix walked behind the others, quiet. Her steps light. Her head down. Not from fatigue. From everything else. Her gaze drifted to Ezra’s silhouette, just ahead. And something twisted inside her chest. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t pride.

It was fear. Fear of losing him.

When did I start being afraid for someone other than myself? she wondered. The thought stopped her in her tracks.

She had never been trained for this. Never prepared for it. Her master had taught her many things—but not this. Not how to care. And even though it hurt… she didn’t want to let it go.

She took a breath and moved forward. Not because she felt strong. But because she wanted to.

Maybe I never wanted to be accepted. Maybe I just didn’t want to be alone again.

As the group made their way back through the corridors toward the Ghost, Hera subtly slowed her pace, letting herself fall into step beside Kanan. He walked in silence, his brow furrowed in thought.

She kept her voice low, just for him. “You know we’re going to have to trust her eventually, right?”

Kanan didn’t answer right away. His face was unreadable—calm, but closed off. After a long pause, he gave a slow, reluctant nod. “Maybe. But I’m still not sure if that’s the right call.”

Hera offered a small, knowing smile. “You’ve never liked change.”

“No,” he admitted with a sigh. “But I guess some changes… you just can’t stop.”

Hera glanced over her shoulder. Behind them, Nix walked silently, eyes on the floor, wrapped in thoughts she didn’t share. “She’s trying. Really trying.”

“I know,” Kanan said quietly. Then, with a raw honesty he rarely showed, he added, “And maybe that’s what scares me the most.”

Hera touched his arm gently, “It’s okay. That just means you care.”

Kanan exhaled softly and nodded. “Yeah. I just hope… we’re not wrong about her.”

“We’re not,” Hera said firmly. “I believe in her.”

The Ghost waited ahead, ready to carry them home. None of them said it aloud, but every one of them hoped this would be the last they’d ever see of Maul.

Chapter Text

The sun over Atollon hadn’t reached its full strength yet, and a soft morning quiet lingered in the makeshift workspace next to the hangar. Nix sat on a crate, elbows resting on her knees, watching Sabine carefully apply another coat of paint to one of the battered Ghost hull plates. It was just a repair part, but Sabine wasn’t painting for utility—she was painting for style. And while Nix didn’t understand much about that, she couldn’t help but watch, quietly intrigued.

“What do you think? Blue or red?” Sabine asked without looking up.

Nix gave it a moment’s thought. “Red. More contrast.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” Sabine smiled and kept painting.

For Nix, it was one of the few moments in the past days when the tension didn’t cling to her like a second skin. And yet, behind her ribs, something still sat heavy—words unsaid, energy unresolved. Her shoulders still ached from the impact when Maul had thrown her aside, and in her head, the memory of losing control repeated again and again.

Kanan hadn’t said a single word to her since. Hera had thanked her, briefly, like she wasn’t quite sure if she should. Only Ezra had asked if she was okay. Then they’d gone home. All of them. And Nix... wasn’t sure if she counted as part of “all.”

She was pulled from her thoughts by a familiar voice.

“Nix?” Ezra leaned casually against the doorway just a few steps away. “Wanna spar again? Not that I’m expecting to win or anything…”

Nix glanced up from the shield plate and a small, real smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “You finally got a new tactic to try?”

“There’s the spirit,” Ezra grinned and nodded toward the far side of the base.

Sabine just shook her head with a smile. “If she knocks you flat again, don’t come whining to me.”

“Relax, I’ve got a plan,” Ezra said. Though he didn’t have any, not really.

Nix hopped off the crate and followed him out. As they disappeared around the corner, the quiet brush strokes behind them faded into the morning air.

The walk to their usual sparring spot, a little stretch of sand just beyond the edge of the base, was quiet. The air was cool, touched with sunlight, and they walked side by side without speaking, footsteps soft on the dust and grit.

Finally, Ezra broke the silence. “How’re you feeling? Yesterday was… rough. For all of us.”

“I’m fine,” Nix said after a moment, then shrugged. “I’ve had worse days.”

Ezra gave her a sideways glance, his voice gentle. “I don’t believe you.”

Nix looked at him, caught off guard. It wasn’t an accusation. Just honest. Before she could answer, Ezra went on, “I saw you go after Maul. That wasn’t like you. What happened back there?”

“Yeah… well,” Nix slowed her pace slightly. “I lost control. Did exactly what my master taught me not to do.”

Ezra’s voice dropped, softer now, a half-step closer. “But why then? I know you well enough to know you don’t just snap.”

She didn’t respond right away. The words caught in her throat, things she hadn’t admitted even to herself.

“I just... I needed to do something. I wanted to help. To help you.” Her voice faltered, eyes fixed on the ground ahead. “And when Kanan told me to stay back…”

She trailed off. She didn’t want to talk about it. And at the same time, she wanted to talk about all of it.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” she added, voice a bit sharper than intended. “Everyone else was in danger from the big, bad Sith Lord. That’s who you should’ve been thinking about. Not me. I’m fine.”

Ezra looked at her for a long moment. Then, without a word, rested a hand gently on her shoulder.

“Come on. A good fight might clear your head. Mine too.”

Nix gave a faint smile. Just a touch of pressure from his hand—and the way he said it—was enough to remind her that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t entirely alone here.

“Hope you’re right,” she said softly and smiled, but she knew she wasn’t entirely balanced. Some emotions still simmered beneath the surface and she’d just learned how to hide them. For now.

Ezra and Nix arrived at their usual sparring spot. It wasn’t far from the base, but the terrain kept it quiet and, more importantly, private.

They took their positions, and with a flick and hum, their lightsabers came to life. Violet and green cutting softly into the morning air. It felt more like a ritual than a sparring match now, something between them that was more than just practice.

“Ready?” Ezra asked, his tone light but cautious.

“Always,” Nix replied with a nod.

They started slow. Trading movements without force, reading each other’s rhythm like a well-rehearsed dance. But it didn’t take Ezra long to notice something was off. Nix’s movements were slower. Not clumsy, just distant. Like her mind was elsewhere.

He pulled back and took a step away. “Nix?”

“What?” she answered quickly. Maybe too quickly.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Ezra asked gently, taking another step back.

Nix averted her eyes, the tension in her posture clear. “Of course.”

“You don’t seem like yourself,” he said more softly now, stepping sideways. Ezra didn’t say it to accuse. Just to reach her. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Nix shot back, then launched a half-hearted strike. Ezra blocked it easily and tried shifting the conversation.

“You know, you’ve never told me much about your master,” Ezra said as Nix slowly circled him. “What was he like?”

The question caught her off guard. For a moment, something flickered in her eyes—something like sadness. She tried to hide it behind another strike, but Ezra deflected it again.

“My master... Darth Elkazar,” she said quietly. “He was on the Dark Council. Did a lot of research. I used to help him with some of it. He was the one who found me… Back when I was just a kid. He’s the one who brought me to the Sith.”

“He found you?” Ezra raised a brow, lowering his saber slightly.

Nix nodded, still pacing slowly around him. “I didn’t have anywhere to go. Lived with him for a while… his house in Kaas City, on Dromund Kaas. He taught me about the Force, about the galaxy, the Sith Empire. And when he thought I was ready, he sent me to Korriban. To the Sith Academy.”

“What was that like?” Ezra asked, keeping his movements light and controlled.

“Tough,” she said plainly. “They divided us into groups. We were competing for the attention of different Sith masters. I fought my way back to Elkazar.”

“He must’ve been glad it was you,” Ezra offered, throwing a quicker strike her way, but she caught him off guard and disarmed him in a flash.

“Honestly, I think he somehow made sure it was me,” she replied with a small smile. “He was on the Council. He could do almost whatever he wanted.”

Ezra gave a half-laugh and reignited his lightsaber. “Do you miss him?”

Nix nodded, but didn’t speak right away. Her gaze drifted downward, and when she finally answered, it was barely above a whisper. “Every day. And I still don’t understand why... why he left me in carbonite. What really happened.”

Ezra opened his mouth to say something, but Nix had already shifted her stance again.

“Ready to go again?” she said quickly, changing the subject.

Ezra gave a soft smile and nodded. “Alright. But this time, I’m actually going to win.”

“Let’s see it,” Nix said with a smirk, and their sabers clashed again.

This time, their movements flowed more easily, the tension from earlier softening into something more familiar. A rhythm forged over weeks of training together.

After a while, they paused to catch their breath. Nix powered down her saber and leaned back against a sun-warmed rock. She looked at Ezra, thoughtful, hesitant.

“What about you?” she asked gently. “How did you end up with Kanan?”

Ezra blinked in surprise. He clearly hadn’t expected the conversation to turn to him. He took a breath and leaned back beside her.

“Well... I grew up on Lothal. Pretty much on my own,” he said quietly, his gaze drifting toward the horizon as if he were seeing a different time. “I survived however I could. Stole stuff. Caused trouble for the Empire. Then one day I stole a crate of blasters from the Ghost crew. They’d stolen it from the Empire... and I stole it from them. I guess that got their attention.”

Nix raised an eyebrow, a small laugh escaping her lips. “You stole blasters from them? Seriously?”

Ezra shrugged with a smile. “Yeah. I wasn’t exactly a model citizen. But somehow, they took me in. I didn’t even know why at first. Then I found out Kanan was a Jedi. Actually, the first Jedi I’d ever met. He must’ve seen something in me.”

Nix was quiet. She understood that feeling too well. “So you didn’t know anything about the Force before that?”

“Not a thing,” Ezra shook his head. “I just thought everyone could feel stuff the way I did. I didn’t even have a word for it. Kanan showed me there was a reason behind it.”

“And your parents?” she asked gently. “You said you grew up on your own?”

“Yeah…” Ezra’s voice dropped a little. “They tried to fight the Empire. Ran underground broadcasts, spoke out. Until the Empire caught them. I didn’t know what happened to them for a long time. Then I found out they were gone…”

Nix nodded, her gaze softening. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up—”

“It’s okay,” Ezra said quickly. “I still think about them sometimes. Wonder what it would’ve been like if they’d been around. Whether they’d be proud… or not.”

“They’d be proud,” Nix said without hesitation. Her voice was serious now, grounded. “You’re already a better Jedi than most I’ve met. And it’s not just because I haven’t met that many.”

Ezra looked up at her, a little caught off guard. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh at that last part, but then he smiled, genuinely. “Thanks, Nix. That... means a lot.”

Nix nodded, brushing it off like it was nothing. “Come on,” she said, changing the subject and reigniting her lightsaber. She didn’t want the weight of the conversation to linger. Not when fighting was easier than feeling. “You still need to learn how to beat a Sith in a duel.”

Ezra laughed and slipped back into his stance. “This time I’ve got you.”

“You say that every time,” Nix smirked and their sabers clashed again in a flurry of light and motion. It was a friendly spar, but underneath the blade work, both of them could feel something growing stronger between them. Something real. Something that mattered.

Some distance away from the canyon where Ezra and Nix continued their sparring, Hera stood with Kanan, watching them quietly. Her arms were folded, her gaze soft—almost maternal—as she observed the pair trading blows with smooth, practiced rhythm. Kanan stood beside her in silence, his posture closed, unreadable.

“You know,” Hera began in a low voice, still watching the two figures, “it’s nice seeing them like that. I haven’t seen Ezra that relaxed in a while.”

Kanan exhaled through his nose and gave a faint shake of his head. “That’s because he’s spending more time with her than he should.”

“And maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” Hera offered gently. “Maybe it’s helping him more than you want to admit.”

Kanan didn’t reply at first. “Hera, I get what you’re saying. But she’s a Sith. Their relationships aren’t like ours. I’m not saying she’s out to hurt him, but... they’re masters of manipulation. What if she’s just using him?”

“Maybe,” Hera said softly. “But I don’t believe that’s what she is. I’ve seen another side of her. Remember her first mission with us? On Lothal? You scolded her for stepping in during that fight, even though she only did it to help. I saw her face after that. She looked... lost. Not dangerous.”

Kanan lowered his head, silent again. Through the Force, he could feel them, Ezra and Nix, their movement, the pulse of their connection. Even without sight, he sensed a kind of balance between them. But at the same time, he sensed a subtle ripple. Not in Nix’s movements, but in the energy that clung to her. Something wasn’t entirely calm. But for now, it seemed under control.

“Ezra wanted her here from the start,” he said quietly. “But what if he was wrong?”

“And what if he wasn’t?” Hera countered. “What if Ezra sees her more clearly than any of us? Not as a Sith but as a girl trying to find where she belongs.”

“It’s still a risk,” Kanan said, though his tone lacked conviction now.

“Of course it is. But maybe the fact that Ezra feels safe with her means more than you think,” Hera continued. “He’s calmer around her. And when they train, they don’t just spar, they learn from each other.”

Kanan said nothing. Hera knew her words had landed. He was thinking deeply.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked at last, his voice measured.

“Give her a chance,” Hera said with a small smile. “You have someone here who understands the dark side. Use that. Let her help teach Ezra how to defend himself better against Sith, against Inquisitors.”

Kanan hesitated. Hera’s words echoed something Bendu had told him not long ago. Doubt warred with caution inside him but he also knew she was right. He couldn’t shield Ezra from the dark side forever. He had to teach him how to stand against it.

Finally, he gave a slow nod. “Maybe it’s time to move forward. For Ezra... and maybe even for her.”

“So why not start now?” Hera smiled, encouraging.

Kanan took a slow breath, then nodded again. “Alright. I’ll talk to them.”

He stepped away from her and began walking toward the training ground, his pace steady, his presence calm. Hera watched him go, a soft expression settling over her features. For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to hope—truly hope—that maybe things were starting to turn in the right direction.

Ezra and Nix were still sparring, but by now, their duel had drifted into something far more playful than serious. Between dodges and swings, laughter echoed off the stone, and the fight had become more about outsmarting the other with a clever trick or unexpected move than about precision or form.

Nix was in the middle of telling a story—one that clearly wasn’t about trauma or war, but something colorful, maybe even ridiculous.

“…So then they tell me Darth Marr has to be somewhere on the opposite side of the Empire, and guess who gets to handle the diplomatic meeting with the Republic envoy? Yep, me,” she said, parrying Ezra’s lazy strikes with a single hand. “But don’t worry, they said. Marr will be listening in and guide me through it. So I figure, okay, great, diplomatic debut…”

Ezra laughed, still trying to stay on rhythm with her story and her swings.

“It starts off fine,” Nix went on, flicking her hand in the air mid-block in exaggerated flair. “He’s talking, I’m talking, we’re doing great. Then I hear his voice in the earpiece—completely calm, totally cold: ‘Tell him to shut up and leave. Now.’”

Ezra snorted. “Wait—what? Just like that?”

“Apparently something about the guy rubbed him the wrong way. But I couldn’t exactly throw out a Republic envoy,” she said, rolling her eyes. “So I just keep nodding and stalling, and then I hear Marr again. This time, yelling: ‘Did you not hear me?! GET. HIM. OUT.’”

Ezra chuckled and shook his head in disbelief, barely deflecting her next strike.

“Oh, and the best part?” Nix added, grinning. “This wasn’t a one-time thing. As soon as Elkazar loaned me to Marr again, I knew it’d go downhill. One time, Riisha was with me—friend from the Academy. Great duelist. Zero social skills. We’re standing outside the conference room, and over the comms, Marr just growls: ‘Get in there. Now.’ So we rush in and ask, ‘What do we say?’ And he just goes, ‘Anything!’ We stared at each other like idiots, no idea what we were supposed to do. But then—”

She stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes flicked up, catching movement along the canyon’s edge. Ezra followed her gaze and immediately grew quiet. There was no mistaking the silhouette approaching them. Kanan.

Ezra deactivated his lightsaber with a low snap-hiss, nodding once toward Nix. She did the same.

“It’s time for your training, Ezra,” Kanan said as he stepped closer, voice calm but firm.

“Yeah, sure,” Ezra nodded, throwing an apologetic glance at Nix. “I’m coming.”

Nix turned to leave, but Kanan’s voice stopped her.

“Wait, Nix,” he said, and something in his tone gave her pause. Hesitation, maybe, but also a choice already made. “I’d like you to stay.”

“Me?” Nix blinked, turning back toward them. For a second, she hesitated. Part of her still braced for another ‘stay back’. But that didn’t come. Not this time. “What could I possibly help with?”

Kanan glanced down, choosing his words with care. “I think it’s time we make use of your experience. The Inquisitors we’re up against; they’re not standard fighters. If you’re willing, I’d like you to help Ezra get ready for them. For their mindset.”

“Inquisitors?” Nix repeated, her gaze sharpening slightly. “They’re still using those? I…” She trailed off, then added more carefully, “I wouldn’t call myself an expert on how they’re trained. That stuff’s not just force lightning anymore… It’s almost like chaos magic. But… I’ll help. I just don’t know exactly how.”

Kanan gave a small nod. “We don’t need force lightning or anything fancy. Just… try to surprise him. Be unpredictable. Use what you were taught—without hurting him, obviously.”

“I can handle that,” Nix smirked, shooting Ezra a sideways glance that was more playful than threatening.

Ezra looked a little stunned at first, but then his expression lit up. “This is gonna be fun.”

The trio made their way across the plains, moving farther from the base until they reached the wide, open plateau where Kanan usually held his lessons. The sand here was finer, the space broader—perfect for swift movements and live combat practice.

“Alright,” Kanan said as they came to a stop, positioning himself in his usual spot. “To give you an idea, Inquisitors fight fast and aggressive. They rely on pressure and surprise, and they usually come with… specialized weapons. But we’ll do without those for now.”

“Specialized?” Nix raised a brow.

“They use double-bladed sabers. But they have a mode where the blades rotate around a central grip,” Kanan explained flatly. “Looks like a fan.”

Nix stared at him for a beat and then burst into laughter.

“Sorry,” she managed between breaths, trying not to double over. “Someone actually designed that? Was the person smoking spice at the time?”

Kanan kept a straight face for a moment… then cracked a reluctant grin. “I know how it sounds. But it stops being funny when someone’s spinning that thing right at your face. Usually, they start with a single blade and switch when the fight escalates. And yeah, when they’re serious, they spin it.”

Nix brushed a loose strand of white hair from her face, still grinning. “Alright. I’ll try to be terrifying. But no light-fan-saber today.”

“Inquisitors aren’t like regular Sith,” Kanan added, more serious now. “They’re trained specifically to hunt Jedi. Their tactics aren’t fair and that’s where you come in, Nix. This isn’t just a sparring match. Treat it like a real fight. Be unpredictable.”

“I’m great at that,” she smirked, clearly taking it as a compliment.

Kanan turned to Ezra. “Ezra, stay sharp. This isn’t about form. It’s about instinct. Don’t try to predict her moves. Feel them. And Nix… don’t hold back but be careful.”

“You ready?” Nix asked, tilting her head slightly.

Ezra sighed, giving her a quick smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

As Kanan stepped safely out of the way, Nix changed instantly. This wasn’t the relaxed, teasing sparring she and Ezra usually shared. Her movements were sharp, fast, reactive. Driven by trained instinct. Ezra was immediately on the defensive, barely keeping up as their sabers hissed and clashed in rapid succession.

She used the environment, too. Tossing small rocks his way, kicking up sand to throw off his footing. It wasn’t fair and that was the point.

“Don’t think—move!” Kanan called out. “Inquisitors won’t give you time to plan!”

Ezra, breathing harder now, nodded and tried to retaliate. He hurled a small stone at her with the Force, only for Nix to snatch it mid-air and casually toss it back at him without missing a step.

“Cute,” she said with a grin. “But you’ll have to try harder.”

“Alright, that wasn’t bad.” Kanan stepped forward, signaling a brief pause. He nodded toward Nix. “Do you know any defensive techniques? Maybe how to block a force push or something like that?”

“You mean like… a block-block?” Nix asked, miming the motion with her hands. “I’m not great at it. I usually manage, like, one out of three. But I am good at Force shielding. That works too.”

Kanan tilted his head, considering. “Yeah. A Force shield’s good. Show him.”

Nix raised a brow, the faint smile on her lips quickly fading. “You mean… teach Ezra how to do a Force shield?”

“Exactly,” Kanan said. “I want to see how you explain what you know.”

“I... I’ve never really...” She trailed off, then exhaled. “Alright. I’ll try.”

She stepped back, raising her hands with fingers slightly spread, palms angled outward. “Okay, Ezra. Try force pushing me.”

Ezra nodded, focused, and reached out with the Force. A sudden pulse of kinetic energy surged toward her. But just before impact, a shimmering, transparent barrier rippled to life around Nix. The wave broke harmlessly against it, fading into nothing.

“Force shield,” she said simply, still unsure how to explain it properly. “You can use it to block explosions, but it works against some Force attacks too. The key is speed, if you hesitate, you're toast.”

“Okay… I’ll try,” Ezra nodded, intrigued. As Nix moved beside him, showing him how to align his stance and channel the Force into a stable projection, he did his best to follow.

“Picture it like water,” she said, her tone still slightly hesitant. “You’re not building a wall. You’re redirecting flow. Shaping it.”

“That’s... surprisingly poetic,” Ezra said, focusing his energy on a shimmering field in front of him. It flickered uncertainly, but it held.

“Yeah, well…” Nix toyed with the hilt of her saber. “I always pictured the Force as water. No idea why. My overseer hated that analogy.”

Kanan stepped a bit closer. “It’s not bad. But in combat, you won’t have time for metaphors. Ready up—one more round.”

Nix glanced at Ezra, who gave a short nod. She reignited her saber, though this time she didn’t attack right away. She began to circle him, her movement fluid and deceptive. Her strikes were unpredictable. Mixed with feints, punches, sudden changes in tempo, even bursts of Force.

Ezra was holding on, barely. Sometimes he countered, sometimes not. Just as he prepared to strike back, Nix suddenly leapt back and launched her lightsaber into the air. The blade spun like a disc of light, arcing toward him with deadly speed.

Nix stood perfectly still, eyes locked on him. The lightsaber spun through the air under her control, but she was ready to intercept it at the slightest sign of danger. If Ezra didn’t react in time, she would stop it instantly. This wasn’t a reckless move. It was a test. She wanted to see how he would handle it.

“Ezra, watch it!” Kanan shouted but Ezra had already reacted. He dropped instinctively, back arched low, and the spinning saber whooshed just over his head.

“Whoa!” he breathed, straightening back up, his heart racing.

He handled it, Nix thought silently. He’s already better than Riisha. That guy would’ve taken it straight to the shoulder.

She reached out and called the saber back to her with effortless precision, catching it mid-spin.

“The prophecy foretold the Chosen One would be Neo,” she muttered flatly, without even a hint of a smile.

Ezra blinked. “Who?”

“No one. It’s... from a movie,” she waved it off with a grin. “Forget it.”

A short distance away, Kanan stood with his arms crossed, watching carefully. He gave a small, approving nod.

“That’s enough for today,” he said calmly. “Good work.”

Ezra wiped sweat from his brow and turned to Nix with a tired but content smile. “That was... actually great.”

“Yeah, you did good,” Nix replied, giving him a playful nudge. “So, same time tomorrow?”

Ezra smiled back. “Sure. But if you throw a saber at my head again, I’m tossing a rock at yours, with or without the Force.”

“Sounds fair,” Nix laughed—a real laugh, quiet and warm, the kind that rarely escaped her. And for a moment, Ezra forgot that he was standing across from someone trained as a Sith.

But Nix knew she could laugh with him. Move like she used to. But deep down, a part of her was still holding its breath, waiting for that flicker of rejection to come back and burn her again.

Chapter Text

The small workshop on the edge of Chopper Base, used mostly for minor repairs, smelled of metal, old grease, and faint electricity. The air was warm and almost dry, and the only sounds—aside from the occasional click of tools—were the soft notes drifting from Nix’s datapad resting on the table. A slow, melancholic electronic melody played in the background. It didn’t demand attention, but somehow it perfectly matched her mood.

Nix was sitting on the floor beside an open service panel on one of the landspeeders. She was working on repairs, though her mind kept wandering off.

He’d left that morning.

Sabine had a mission—something about infiltrating an Imperial academy. And Ezra and Kanan had gone with her, said it might take a few days. The goodbye had been brief, just a wave, really. Ezra smiled, said “We’ll be back soon,” and vanished into the ship.

And Nix stayed behind.

I was used to being alone… Always. So why does it feel different now?

With a frustrated sigh, she sat up straighter and tucked a white strand of hair behind her ear. This wasn’t an emotion she was used to. It wasn’t anger, it wasn’t sadness. It was… emptiness. Something was missing. And she refused to give it a name.

“What exactly are you trying to do to that speeder?” a voice called from behind her.

Nix smiled faintly and glanced back. Rex was sitting at a nearby table, surrounded by parts and tools, carefully cleaning a blaster rifle in his hands.

“Originally? Just fix it. But I kinda needed something to do,” she replied with a small shrug. “Then I thought, maybe I could upgrade it a bit. And now it’s possibly more broken than it was before… I’m honestly thinking about giving it a name and having a heart-to-heart with it.”

“Too sentimental,” Rex muttered. “It’s better to just call these piles of scrap ‘you piece of kriff’ or ‘work, damn it.’ Trust me.”

Nix laughed briefly and leaned back over the engine. After a short silence, her voice broke the quiet again. “Last time, we talked about the Clone Wars. But what was it like… for you?”

Rex paused, lifting his eyes. “That’s kind of a long story.”

“We’ve got time.”

He set his tool down and leaned back against the wall. “Alright. It was… a strange time. Everything started when the Separatists broke away and the Republic began building an army. Us. The clones. I was in the first wave, and then I fought under General Skywalker.”

“I’ve heard that name before,” Nix nodded, though she couldn’t quite place where.

“He had a Padawan. Ahsoka Tano. At first, we thought she was way too young, but… she was smart, brave. Stubborn, too.” He smiled faintly, though there was a touch of sorrow in it. “Once, we had a mission in the Quell system. Standard rescue op—only it went sideways fast. Separatists hit General Secura’s fleet hard, and we were sent in with reinforcements. Our ship crash-landed on Maridun, and General Skywalker got seriously injured. It all fell to Ahsoka. She and General Secura went off to get help from the locals—and she kept a cool head, got us all out alive.”

“And she… survived the war?” Nix asked quietly.

Rex hesitated. “Yeah. Yeah, she did. She even helped the Rebellion not long ago. But then she disappeared on a mission to Malachor...” His gaze drifted to the side. “She was one of the best people I ever knew.”

“Malachor?” Nix echoed, barely a whisper.

“Ezra wanted to go back there. Said he had some vision,” Rex added, clearing his throat as he stood up. “Thought maybe he could still find her there.”

Nix went silent, then murmured almost to herself, “And instead… they found me.”

Before Rex could respond, the commlink on the table lit up with Hera’s voice.

“Rex?”

“I’m here,” he answered, picking it up.

“Have you seen Nix?”

“Yeah. She’s been helping me patch up half the base.”

“Both of you, report to command. We’ve found something interesting.”

Rex set the blaster down and gave Nix a more serious look. “Well, I guess we’d better go,” he grumbled, standing up. “Can’t keep Hera waiting.”

Nix just nodded, rising from the floor and quickly shutting off the music on her datapad. Her mind was buzzing with questions, but she kept them to herself—for now.

Together, they made their way through the maze of makeshift structures that made up the base. The area was bustling—technicians, pilots, and other rebel crew moved supplies, adjusted equipment, or debated over open datapads. Occasionally, someone nodded at Rex or gave Nix a curious glance. People were still getting used to her, and she felt it with every look.

When they finally reached the command center, Commander Sato and Hera were already standing near a holographic projector, its soft light casting blue reflections across their faces. Zeb stood a bit farther off, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on the flickering star map hovering above the table.

“Rex, Nix. There you are,” Hera greeted them with a faint smile and a nod. “We’ve got something that might interest you.”

“We’ve picked up a strange distress signal,” Sato began, his tone serious, as a map of the sector appeared behind him. “It’s coming from a planet called Taral V. We believed the entire Taral system to be uninhabited and long abandoned.”

Nix tensed slightly, a chill crawling up her spine. Taral V… That name was like a shadow from her past. It was the site of one of her first missions, back when she still served her old Empire. A remote research facility, holding a mysterious prisoner. That name echoed again in her mind—Revan. Her stomach tightened, but outwardly, she showed no reaction.

“The signal,” Sato continued, pointing to a blinking dot on the map, “is encrypted. And the encryption matches the kind we use.”

“Someone from the Rebellion might be in trouble,” Hera added, her expression grave. “The signal started a few hours ago and it hasn’t stopped since.”

“Taral?” Rex raised a brow. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of it.”

“Which is exactly what makes it so strange,” Sato said calmly. “No one expected anyone to be out there. Least of all, one of ours.”

“So we’re just gonna waltz in?” Zeb asked, skeptical. “Not exactly a welcoming kind of place.”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Hera said firmly. “The sooner we get there, the better the chance we find our people alive.”

Sato gave a small nod to conclude the briefing. “You leave immediately... And good luck out there.”

Preparations didn’t take long. Nix grabbed only her lightsaber, but the nerves wouldn’t go away. Taral V. A place she thought was long buried and is now rising back to the surface, as if her past was clawing its way out of the grave.

Hera, Rex, and Zeb were already waiting at the Ghost’s ramp. Nix joined them, keeping her gaze low and avoiding eye contact. It was like she was trying to focus solely on herself—on her memories.

“Ready to go?” Hera asked calmly.

“Always,” Rex said with a nod, adjusting the plating on his shoulder.

Zeb just shrugged. “Let’s get it over with.”

“Yeah… same,” Nix added quietly. Her voice was calm, but there was a strange fire in her eyes.

Moments later, the Ghost lifted off and ascended into the atmosphere. Soon after, it jumped into hyperspace, en route to the long-forgotten Taral system.

Nix sat silently in the cockpit, her eyes fixed on the swirling blue tunnels of hyperspace, her thoughts sinking deep into a past she wasn’t ready to share.

The journey passed quickly, though the air in the cockpit felt oddly heavy. Hera focused on the nav system, while Nix remained in the co-pilot seat, her mind lost somewhere in the endless blue blur outside.

“I heard Kanan let you join Ezra’s training,” Hera eventually said, breaking the silence with a small smile. “That’s a pretty big step for him.”

“Yeah,” Nix replied, a bit hesitant. “But I still get the feeling he doesn’t fully trust me.”

“He will. Give it time,” Hera said gently. “Kanan just needs to see that not every Sith is the same.”

Nix gave a silent nod and kept staring ahead, her thoughts once again drifting back to Taral V and everything that waited for her there.

When the Ghost dropped out of hyperspace, a dark green planet appeared ahead. From a distance, Taral V looked surprisingly peaceful. But as the ship descended through thick, gray clouds, a strange sight unfolded beneath them.

Massive structures rose from the horizon—an old complex, clearly once important, but now looking more like a crumbling, abandoned tomb.

The Ghost touched down near the perimeter. Nix stared through the viewport, uneasy. The place clearly belonged to the “new” Imperials… but the location—it felt almost too familiar. Too close to that mission from so long ago.

“Weird,” Zeb muttered as he stepped into the cockpit, eyeing the desolate terrain. “Looks like someone wrecked the place pretty good.”

“No guards anywhere,” Rex added grimly, checking his blaster. “It’s like the Empire just… packed up and left.”

“This isn’t right,” Hera said quietly, turning to them. “I’ll stay with the ship and keep watch. Be careful out there.”

“We will,” Zeb nodded, giving Rex and Nix a look. “C’mon.”

Without a word, Nix got up and followed Rex and Zeb down the ramp. The moment they stepped outside, they were hit by a wave of cold, stale air, laced with a faint metallic tang.

Suppressing a shiver, Nix ignited her lightsaber. The purple blade cast a soft glow across the ruins as they moved into the silence.

They slowly approached the ruined complex. The closer they got, the more obvious the signs of battle became—blasted walls, charred remains of equipment, deep gouges in the steel doors, as if someone had tried to break through both from the outside and within.

Once they stepped through the entrance gate, they found themselves inside. The hallways were shrouded in darkness, interrupted only by flickering, damaged lights. Rex switched on the flashlight on his blaster, and Zeb tightened his grip on his bo-rifle.

Each step echoed ominously down the corridor, bouncing off the walls like the building itself was listening. Nix froze when her boot slipped on something wet. She crouched and carefully touched the floor—her fingers met a damp, sticky liquid.

“Blood,” she whispered as she straightened up, eyes scanning the shadows. “And pretty fresh.”

Rex instinctively turned, raising his blasters toward a dark corner. But there was nothing there. Only silence and the unsettling sensation that something in the shadows was watching them.

“I got a real bad feeling about this,” Zeb muttered under his breath.

“You’re not alone,” Rex replied, and they continued slowly down the hallway, step by step, senses sharp and nerves tight.

Nix, walking last, could still feel it—that cold, merciless gaze burning into her back. Watching. Waiting.

The corridors stretched on like a labyrinth of shadows. No sound reached in from the outside. Their footsteps rang out over the wet floor, while the beam from Rex’s flashlight reluctantly peeled back the gloom. Each droplet of water hitting metal echoed like a needle to the ear, and Nix couldn’t shake the feeling that the walls themselves were alive.

As they moved through another corridor, dim light reflecting off damp steel, Nix noticed the tension between Zeb and Rex growing. They were right behind her, whispering at first but the whispers were turning sharp.

“I’m telling you, we should fall back,” Zeb growled quietly, but firmly. “Something’s way off, and I’m not planning to become just another name on a rebel memorial wall.”

Rex turned his head, calm but stern. “Bit late for that, isn’t it? You agreed to come like the rest of us. We don’t bail the second things get spooky.”

“This isn’t just spooky. This place is drenched in blood and dead quiet,” Zeb hissed, lifting his hands in a half-defensive gesture. “Let me guess—we find a holo-recording from the last survivor warning us to run, and then something drags us up into the ceiling one by one?”

“This isn’t a horror holo, Zeb,” Rex shot back dryly.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Zeb grumbled. “You really telling me this doesn’t bother you?”

At that moment, Nix turned around and raised a brow. “Guys,” she said softly. “I’m creeped out too. But it’s a bit late for arguing.”

The two men exchanged a look. There was a beat of silence before Rex muttered, “Fair.”

Zeb rolled his eyes. “Fine. But when something jumps us from the ceiling, I’m gonna say ‘I told you so.’”

“Can’t wait,” Nix smirked faintly and resumed walking—though her steps were now just a little more cautious.

Blood marked the walls in grotesque patterns, dark streaks trailing out in every direction. Broken doors revealed chaos within—scattered lab equipment, shattered glass containers, and cages with twisted bars, as if something had clawed its way out in desperation.

“Karabast… what were they doing here?” Zeb whispered, visibly disturbed as the flashlight revealed a deformed corpse. It might once have been an animal, but now it was just a mutated husk.

Rex knelt by one of the wrecked storage bins, retrieving a datapad from a mess of blood-streaked documents. He frowned at the cracked screen, scanning the notes.

“Genetic modifications… accelerated growth… enhanced aggression,” he read under his breath. Zeb kept watch, as if expecting something to leap from the shadows.

“Primarily for combat use,” Nix added quietly. Her voice echoed through the room, cold and distant. A creeping dread washed over her. She’d seen experiments like this before—long ago. Here on Taral V. But back then, it had been her own people responsible. And now, it looked like the Empire had rediscovered something that should’ve stayed buried.

Suddenly, Zeb’s comlink let out a sharp beep. He flinched before realizing it was just Hera.

“Ghost to Spectre-4. What did you find?” her voice came through, clearly uneasy.

“Spectre-4. Nothing good so far,” Zeb grumbled into the comm. “Some labs. Holding cages. And… well, there’s blood everywhere. Looks like their experiments got outta hand.”

“Be careful,” Hera warned seriously. “And you might want to hurry. Ghost out.”

The connection cut, and the silence that followed felt heavier than before. Nix suddenly felt a strange pull—like something was calling to her. Almost without thinking, she moved toward a terminal in the corner of the lab, its screen pulsing with a faint, broken glow.

“Nix, what are you doing?” Rex asked cautiously, watching her start to work the panel.

“Trying to find out exactly what they were doing here,” she muttered, fingers dancing over the damaged keys. After a few tries, the screen flickered to life and began displaying logs.

A grainy video feed appeared. Scientists in white imperial uniforms stood hunched over strange creatures—twisted beasts with snarling fangs and eyes full of fury. Another recording showed one of the monsters smashing through a containment barrier and leaping at the nearest scientist. The feed cut out the moment blood splattered across the camera.

“These idiots really thought they could control that,” Zeb said, staring at the footage with open disgust.

Nix felt a chill crawl down her spine. “Yeah. I’ve seen something like this before,” she murmured.

“What do you mean?” Rex asked, his voice careful.

“A long time ago… my old Empire was running similar experiments,” she said slowly. “On this same planet. Might’ve even been this exact place. The current Empire must’ve found old records. Or something worse.”

Her words were cut off by a sudden, grating sound—metal scraping against metal, somewhere deep within the complex. All three of them froze, turning toward the door.

Then came the roar.

Low and drawn out, it echoed from the bowels of the facility—something alive, and definitely not out for a stroll.

“Karabast. What was that?” Zeb breathed.

Nix tightened her grip on her lightsaber. “Something that’s still here…”

Heavy footsteps began to approach, slow and deliberate. Nix, Rex, and Zeb stood absolutely still, weapons ready, eyes fixed on the thick darkness ahead. The air felt heavier, like the building itself was holding its breath.

Then it struck. Fast. Violent. Real.

A blur burst from the shadows, shrieking with a guttural screech. Zeb fired his bo-rifle on instinct, but the bolt hit only air as the creature had already vanished into another shadow.

“Where is it?!” Rex barked, spinning and unleashing a volley from both blasters. The flashes lit up the hallway in erratic bursts, casting distorted shadows across the walls. The thing was everywhere and nowhere at once, crawling along the walls and ceiling like it didn’t care about gravity.

Nix reached for it through the Force but it was chaos. Something wild and unnatural tangled the energy, making it hard to sense anything clearly. She ignited her lightsaber, the violet glow filling the space with its calming hum.

For a split second, they saw it—a warped, elongated body that looked like some nightmare fusion of reptile and insect, spiked limbs jutting from its sides, its pale skin glistening with slime. Its face was a big jaw lined with sharp, uneven teeth. Then it was gone again.

“Behind you!” Nix shouted and lunged forward, intercepting another strike. Her lightsaber clashed against chitin, sparks flaring as the blade bit in. The creature hissed and recoiled into the darkness like it hadn’t even been hurt.

“How many of these things are there?!” Zeb shouted, spinning his weapon in every direction. Scraping claws, low growls, and whispers of movement came from all around them.

“No idea!” Nix called back, turning just in time to block another lunge. The fight turned into a whirlwind—fast, violent, and disorienting. The three of them kept instinctively covering each other’s backs, but the monster was smart. It wasn’t just attacking. It was toying with them.

Then came a sharp cracking noise overhead as the massive pipes snapped loose from the ceiling.

Debris crashed down in a thunderous collapse, filling the room with dust and smoke. The group was instantly split. Nix heard Zeb shouting, but couldn’t see him. Her balance gave out, she hit the floor, her lightsaber slipping from her grip and for a moment, everything went dark and silent.

When she finally lifted her head, everything was still. The creature was gone—and so were her friends. Slowly, Nix got to her feet and retrieved her lightsaber, which had landed just a few feet away. Her hand trembled as she reached for her belt only to realize her comlink was missing. No way to contact Hera. No way to find the others.

“Rex? Zeb?” she called into the darkness, but the only answer was the heavy, endless silence pressing in around her.

For a moment, she stood frozen, letting her thoughts spiral. What if this is it? What if I never make it out alive?

Ezra… he wouldn’t even know something happened to me. By the time he gets back from his mission, Hera will just tell him I'm gone.

A sting hit her chest—not from fear of dying, but from the thought that it might not even hurt him as much as she expected. What if he just moves on? Maybe he’d talk about me for a bit… maybe he’d be sad. But then… he’d be fine. Life would go on.

No. Ezra will try to find me. I know he will.

She shook her head sharply. Why—of all people—am I thinking about him right now? Why not Rex or Zeb? They’re in just as much danger. Why Ezra? It doesn’t make any sense.

Closing her eyes, she drew a long breath. This wasn’t the time for stupid thoughts. She shoved the idea aside, trying to shake the weight in her chest. This wasn’t the moment to think about who cared. This was the moment to survive.

She looked toward the path they’d come from—it was now completely blocked by fallen debris. She breathed in slowly, trying to keep the rising panic from overtaking her.

You’re a Sith, she reminded herself. You don’t let fear take control.

But somewhere deep inside, she felt it. That this thing hiding in the dark wasn’t just some genetic experiment. It was something worse. Something like the essence of darkness itself—hungry, merciless, and utterly fearless.

There was only one way left to go.

She closed her eyes again and reached inward, centering herself, calling back the fragile emotional balance she’d been fighting to keep. When she opened her eyes again, she stepped forward into the dark.

Nix moved carefully through the hallways, swallowed by silence and the growing pressure of the complex around her. Her partial infrared vision painted the world in faint reddish outlines, just enough to keep her from walking blindly but not nearly enough to see clearly. Shadows danced along the walls, and every time she turned her head, it felt like something was just barely out of sight.

“Zar’za… What are you…?” she whispered to herself, like speaking might calm the storm in her mind. That creature—it had been like something from a nightmare, like the ancient legends she’d once heard whispered through the halls of the Korriban Academy. Its armor had been nearly impenetrable, even for her lightsaber. And its movements—inhumanly fast, precise, and somehow erratic all at once.

Just as she rounded another corner, something gave her pause. In the Force, she felt it—a flicker of something. A presence. Not the creature. Not hostile… but not safe either. As if something—or someone—was watching from afar. Not close enough to pinpoint. Not strong enough to identify. Just a shimmer, like a ripple on water. Her brow furrowed, but she kept walking.

The corridor opened into a wide chamber ahead—a vast, pitch-black space. Judging by the scattered panels, flickering consoles, and overturned lab stations, it was clear this had once been the facility’s central laboratory. Datapads lay strewn across the floor, covered in blood and something slimy.

Nix hesitated. For a second, she didn’t want to touch anything. But curiosity pushed harder than fear.

She picked up one of the datapads and activated it. The screen flickered, distorted lines dancing across it, then stabilized long enough to display a log:

Subject T-17 has escaped containment. All personnel are instructed to evacuate sector B-4 immediately. Subject is extremely aggressive. Genetic modifications are producing unpredictable results. Casualties are high. Immediate response required.

She swallowed hard and set the datapad down. Her heart was beating faster now. So the Empire really had found the old records… and decided to continue the research. They’d brought the monsters back. Monsters that were never meant to exist again.

A low, guttural growl cut through the silence—too close to be her imagination. Nix whirled around and spotted a dark shape moving with eerie grace between the overturned lab tables. Muscles shifted beneath thick, slimy skin. Its teeth and claws glinted in the dim light from the flickering terminals.

“Of course you’re still here…” she muttered through clenched teeth, igniting her lightsaber. The violet blade cast a muted glow across the room, but this time, she didn’t charge. She began backing away, slowly and deliberately.

The creature followed.

Then it lunged.

With a sharp breath, Nix created a Force shield. The air shimmered with pale blue light as the barrier formed around her but the beast hit harder than she’d expected. Its claws slammed into the shield with a deafening crack. The energy field wavered, buckled, then shattered like glass.

She cried out as pain ripped through her arm. Her jacket sleeve was torn open, and a long, deep gash bled down her forearm.

She didn’t stop. Using the brief chaos to her advantage, she ducked into a side hallway and sprinted away, cradling her injured arm close to her chest. The Force thrummed under her skin, wild and unfocused. The pain made it impossible to concentrate.

The creature screamed behind her—furious.

She ran harder, fast and desperate, her sense of direction fading as corridors blurred past. Her emotions surged—anger, fear, adrenaline—and all of it fed into the Force. It gave her strength, but it also frayed her focus. Darkness wrapped around her like a second skin.

The scraping claws returned—louder now, just behind her.

She spun and hurled a telekinetic blast. The beast slammed into a wall but rebounded instantly, even faster than before. She tried again. But this time unleashing a volley of crackling Force lightning. Blue energy tore through the hallway. The creature shrieked in pain and faltered.

It bought her a few seconds.

She kept running—until the corridor ended. A dead end.

Nix froze, staring at the solid wall in front of her, then turned, back pressed to the cold durasteel. Her breath came in sharp gasps. Her mind replayed the last few moments like a shattered holo-feed.

She forced herself to focus. She placed her hand over the wound, trying to summon calm. She hadn’t practiced healing techniques often, but she knew the basics. A faint purple glow spread beneath her fingers. The bleeding slowed. The pain dulled. It wasn’t perfect, but desperate times didn’t care about experience.

Then came the growl again.

She pressed herself tighter against the wall, raising her lightsaber. The creature was close—its heavy steps echoed like death itself.

She braced for the end.

But then—a voice. Young, male, and urgent.

“Up here! Hurry!”

Nix looked up. In the infrared glow of her enhanced vision, she saw a man, bruised and bloodied, reaching down from an open ceiling vent.

Without thinking, she leapt, channeling the last of her strength into the jump. The stranger caught her hand and yanked her into the narrow shaft.

Below them, the beast roared.

Its claws tore into the vent’s edge just as the stranger fought to shut the hatch. Nix turned, teeth clenched, and unleashed another blast of Force lightning. The creature screamed—a piercing, earsplitting screech—as it finally retreated into the shadows.

The hatch slammed shut and locked.

They sat in the darkness, breathless, lungs burning, adrenaline still spiking.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Finally, Nix managed to whisper, “Who… who are you?”

The man exhaled sharply, voice hoarse and worn. “No time to explain. We need to get out of here. Now.”

Chapter Text

After the ceiling and walls collapsed, Rex and Zeb were left dazed in a thick cloud of dust. Rex coughed, quickly regaining his bearings as he looked around the room, now darker and more cramped than before. Debris was everywhere—shattered metal, crushed terminals, and shadows sliced only by the slow, rhythmic blink of red emergency lights.

“Nix?!” Rex shouted, instantly grabbing his comlink. “Nix, respond! Can you hear me?”

Only static crackled in reply. He gave an irritated grunt, clipped the device back onto his belt, and frowned.

Zeb had slowly gotten to his feet, shaking the dust off. His eyes glowed faintly in the dark, almost animal-like.

“You think she’s okay?” he asked, ears twitching as he scanned the area, alert to the smallest sound.

“She’ll make it,” Rex said firmly, though the worry in his eyes betrayed him. “But we need to find her before that… whatever it was… finds her first.”

Zeb gave a sharp nod and crouched into a combat stance, gripping his bo-rifle tighter.

“Let’s move,” he muttered.

They began weaving their way carefully through a narrow corridor. The walls were cracked and battered, smeared with dark stains that didn’t look encouraging. Rex moved like a true war veteran—blaster raised, every step calculated. Zeb stayed a step behind, constantly glancing over his shoulder.

They tried calling Nix several times, but the comlink returned nothing but static. Finally, Zeb stopped and turned to Rex with a deep frown.

“I don’t like this, Rex. Something—or someone—is watching us. I can feel it.”

Rex nodded grimly. “I feel it too. That thing we saw… there was something wrong about it.”

Zeb narrowed his eyes and replied in a low voice, “You saw how fast it moved? That wasn’t some normal creature…”

Rex gave a tense nod and pushed forward. They passed rooms filled with shattered cages, ruined terminals, and the torn remains of Imperial troops. In one of the labs, Zeb suddenly held up a hand to stop Rex and pointed to a broken containment cell—this one much larger than the others.

“Let’s hope we don’t run into whatever came outta that,” he whispered.

Rex just tightened his grip on his blaster. “Yeah. And if we do, I’d rather have a TX-130.”

Eventually, they came across a terminal that was still faintly glowing. Rex crouched beside it and quickly began tapping at the interface. After a few seconds of digging through corrupted files, he looked up.

“I’ve got something. Picking up a faint signal… Could be another survivor.”

Zeb stepped closer. “Nix?”

Rex shook his head. “Don’t think so. It’s an older signal, day or two at least. But definitely from down here. Lower levels.”

Zeb groaned. “Great. Even deeper.”

Suddenly, both of them froze. From the adjacent hallway came a low, animalistic growl, steadily getting closer. Rex raised his blasters, and Zeb readied his bo-rifle. The silence around them grew heavy.

“Stick close,” Zeb whispered as the approaching steps grew louder, heavier.

And then it appeared—emerging from the shadows like a living nightmare. Massive and muscular, its hulking form barely fit in the corridor. It moved like a serpent coiled to strike, its body covered in glossy black armor plating that shimmered in the red emergency lights like a thousand razor blades.

Its gaping maw opened slowly, revealing rows of long, jagged teeth. Its inhuman eyes gleamed with cold, ravenous madness.

Rex didn’t hesitate. He lifted both blasters and unleashed a flurry of bolts straight into the creature’s neck. The shots struck the thick carapace, erupting in small bursts—but if anything, the barrage only enraged the beast. It let out a louder snarl and lunged forward.

“Kriff!” Rex shouted, continuing to fire as he backed away.

“I got this!” Zeb yelled and charged in with a roar. His eyes burned with fury and courage. With a powerful swing, he smashed his bo-rifle into the creature’s back—a blow strong enough to crush durasteel. But the beast barely flinched.

It roared in pain and slammed a claw into Zeb, sending him flying several meters back. He crashed into the wall with a painful grunt, coughing as he hit the ground and lay stunned for a second, staring at the charging monster.

“Zeb!” Rex shouted and amped up his fire, now shooting more out of desperation than strategy.

Zeb gritted his teeth, shook off the hit, and sprang back to his feet. He gripped his weapon tighter and dove into the fight again. His movements were fast and feral, aiming for the gaps between the armored plates—but the creature was faster. Its elongated limbs slashed through the air, claws gleaming, and Zeb barely dodged a fatal swipe.

“This thing just won’t die!” Zeb shouted as he narrowly dodged another deadly swipe.

“We need to fall back!” Rex yelled, emptying another clip into the beast—only for his blaster to jam with a sharp click. “Now!”

The creature lunged at them like an avalanche of muscle and claws. Rex grabbed Zeb by the shoulder and yanked him into a side corridor. The beast missed them by mere inches, its claws gouging deep ruts into the wall behind them.

“This way!” Rex called, pointing toward a set of doors flickering red as they slowly tried to seal. Zeb took off toward them without hesitation, and Rex followed close behind.

The creature let out a furious roar and charged after them. Rex reached the control panel and slammed his palm against it, trying to force the doors closed. The mechanism groaned and stalled.

“Karabast, hurry!” Zeb shouted, slamming his fist into the panel. The doors finally screeched into motion and sealed with a hiss—just as the monster slammed against the other side with bone-rattling force.

A furious pounding followed, along with a low, menacing growl… and then silence. Heavy. Final.

Rex and Zeb slumped back against the door, both of them gasping for breath.

“That was way too close,” Zeb said between ragged breaths.

Rex only nodded, his hands still trembling as he reloaded his blasters. They slowly got back on their feet and moved cautiously down the corridor, bracing for whatever else might be waiting for them.

They rushed into another hallway. Zeb slammed the door behind them, and Rex jammed nearby debris into the frame to block it. For now, they were safe.

“Well,” Zeb panted, “this is gonna be fun…”

While Rex and Zeb regrouped somewhere behind reinforced doors, Nix was catching her breath inside the narrow shaft where she’d just escaped death by a hair’s breadth. The silence pressing in around her was broken only by the sound of ragged breathing—hers and the stranger’s. Her chest was still tight with adrenaline, every muscle tense, her thoughts spinning.

Somewhere beneath them, the creature snarled one last time… then moved on. It had lost interest. For now.

“We should go,” the man beside her said quietly at last.

Only now did Nix get a good look at him in the dim light.

His skin was a pale blue—the kind that instantly caught attention. White hair, slicked back but now disheveled and dirty with dust and blood. His sharp features were marked with golden tattoos, unmistakably Pantoran. His violet eyes were clear and alert, and though he looked exhausted, there was something steady in the way he moved. He wore a brown leather jacket with a torn Rebellion insignia on the sleeve, and dark military-grade pants.

“Yeah,” Nix answered softly, carefully rising to her feet and trying not to make the metal beneath her creak too loudly. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Someplace relatively safe. We’ve got a makeshift hideout in one of the labs, a level down,” the man replied, gesturing for her to follow. “Name’s Talrin. Talrin Thallos.”

“Nix,” she said simply, and stepped carefully behind him into the narrow maintenance shaft.

For a while, they moved in silence. Then Talrin spoke again, his voice quiet but curious. “Those lightning bolts… What you did back there. Are you a Jedi?”

Nix smirked slightly without slowing. “Something like that.”

“So who are you then?”

She hesitated, considering her answer. “I’m with the Rebellion. We picked up a distress signal from this facility. Commander Sato sent us to investigate.”

“Sato…” Talrin muttered, then gave a short nod. “Then I guess you’re the best thing that’s happened to us in a while.”

Nix gave a small smile. “What exactly happened here? This… doesn’t look like a regular Imperial facility.”

Talrin stopped and looked back at her seriously. “Not even close. Come on. We’ll explain everything once we’re inside. This place isn’t safe. Those things… they can hear everything. Feel the vibrations.”

She nodded, still full of questions but knowing this wasn’t the time. They continued cautiously through the maze of ventilation shafts and service tunnels, lit only by the occasional emergency panel or a cracked light fixture letting through a faint glow. The path twisted and turned, metal groaning under their steps.

Finally, after several tense minutes, they reached a sealed bulkhead. Talrin opened it with care, and a flickering light spilled out from within.

“Quick, inside,” he whispered, motioning her through.

Nix stepped into what was clearly a makeshift safe zone. Scattered crates, overturned lab tables, and furniture stacked into improvised barricades filled the space. Broken datapads littered the ground alongside damaged equipment and signs of recent fighting—bloodstains, blaster burns, and deep claw marks etched into the walls.

Near one of the workstations stood a woman who immediately turned at the sound of the door, eyeing Nix with suspicion. Human, maybe in her thirties. Her face was tired, drawn, with the thousand-yard stare of someone who had seen too much. Brown hair was tied back in a messy bun, a few loose strands falling around her face. Her lab coat was torn, and beneath it, she still wore an Imperial uniform.

“Talrin? Who is this?” she asked, her voice tense.

“She picked up our signal,” Talrin answered quickly as he shut the door behind them. “There’s a Rebel ship. They came to get us out.”

“What ship?” the woman asked sharply. “And how do we know we can trust her?”

“They sent us to check out the signal,” Nix said calmly, though she could see the woman growing visibly uneasy.

“How much do you know?” the woman asked seriously. “What’ll you do when you find out what was happening here?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Nix said quietly. “But we can talk about that later… Who are you?”

“I’m…” The woman crossed her arms and let out a bitter sigh. “Dr. Selene Koss. I worked here… Genetic research and modification.” She hesitated, struggling for words.

“You created monsters,” Talrin finished for her, his tone sharper. “None of you stopped to think what’d happen if they got loose?”

“We had safety protocols!” Selene snapped, panic and guilt rising in her voice. “But when the systems failed—when someone shut down the lights and emergency backups—those protections vanished. We don’t even know who opened the cages. Could’ve been one of us… or someone from the outside.”

She looked down at her trembling hands.

“We knew we were pushing boundaries,” she said, voice hoarse. “But… there was this technician, Arrik. Young. Worked in quarantine zone. Always had some kind of cookies in his pocket. He shared them with everyone.”

Her voice cracked. “He died the first night this started. We found his helmet. That’s all. The rest of him... stayed in that hallway. I never thought it would go this far.”

Nix watched her quietly. She could feel the guilt, the fear, the regret radiating off the woman. And somehow… she understood.

“I get that it must’ve been hard,” Talrin said, cutting the silence. “But right now, we need to figure out how to get out of here.”

Selene nodded with a tired sigh. “You’re right.”

“There should still be others—my friends,” Nix added. “They were left somewhere above us… if they’re still alive.”

Talrin tensed, his expression sharpening as he turned to her. “Then we’d better move fast.”

“If we want to get topside, the main corridors are too dangerous,” Selene said quietly, her eyes flicking to the shadows dancing across the walls. “Those things… they mostly move through there.”

Talrin nodded thoughtfully. “What do you suggest instead?”

“Maintenance shafts and access tunnels,” she replied, picking up a small datapad from the table. She quickly pulled up a schematic and pointed to the highlighted paths. “They’re narrow and dark, but they connect to most parts of the complex. It’s our best shot and should be safe.”

“Safe is kind of a relative term down here,” Nix muttered under her breath. “But better than walking straight into their claws.”

“Then let’s go,” Talrin said firmly, his eyes catching the pale light with renewed resolve.

The maintenance tunnels greeted them with a chill that sank into their bones and a dampness that clung to everything. The walls dripped with condensation, forming tiny puddles across the grimy metal floor. The shafts were barely wide enough for them to move single-file.

Every step echoed too loud, like an invitation to anything lurking nearby. Nix took the lead, her senses strung so tight it was like every muscle in her body was ready to snap. Talrin followed close behind, with Selene at the rear—barely breathing, clearly rattled.

“What are those things, anyway?” Nix whispered after a while, eyes locked on the dark ahead.

Selene hesitated before answering. “Genetic experiments… The idea was to create the perfect predator. Something for battlefield deployment. We didn’t expect them to be so… unstable.”

“‘Unstable’?” Talrin muttered with a sharp breath. “That’s a pretty generous word for those monsters.”

A distant sound cut through the tunnels—a deep, drawn-out howl mixed with metallic screeches that made their blood run cold. It wasn’t just noise. It was dread given voice.

“They’re close,” Selene whispered, trembling.

“Just keep moving,” Nix said, more forcefully now, picking up her pace. Her breath quickened. It felt like something unseen was closing in around them.

Then came another noise—something scraping.

Nix froze and raised her hand to signal silence. The air grew heavy, and the only sound left was the pounding of their hearts.

Then—screeching.

The creature burst from the shadows like a missile—just as horrifying as the last, armored in glistening dark plates and clawing at the floor with talons that left deep gouges in the metal. Strings of thick, acidic drool hung from its jaws.

“Look out!” Talrin shouted, instinctively yanking Selene behind him as the beast lunged.

Nix ignited her lightsaber in a blink, its violet blade slicing through the darkness—but the creature was too fast. It sprang sideways, rebounded off the wall, and attacked again. Nix struck, but her blade only glanced off the armored hide, barely leaving a mark.

“Zar’za!” she growled, backing off just in time to dodge a vicious slash that tore through the air where she’d just stood. Its roar filled the corridor, echoing painfully through her skull.

Selene shrieked and collapsed against the wall, eyes wide in terror. “The light! They’re sensitive to light!”

Nix’s head snapped toward her. It hit her then—why her force lightning had worked earlier. It wasn’t just the electricity. It was the brightness.

“Good to know,” she muttered and raised her hand. Blue-white lightning exploded from her palm, flooding the tunnel with searing light. The creature reeled back, snarling, shielding its eyes as it stumbled away.

“We need more light!” Nix yelled.

Talrin sprang into action, slamming his hand against a nearby control panel. The system groaned but responded and the lights sputtered to life, flooding the corridor in harsh, flickering brightness.

With a final shriek, the beast stumbled backward into the shadows, retreating deeper into the darkness, its howl fading slowly into the distance.

For a long moment, none of them moved. Their breathing was ragged, hearts hammering in their chests. Nix finally lowered her saber and met Talrin’s gaze.

“Nice work,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” he panted. “But those lights won’t hold long. We need to move. Fast.”

As they started to catch their breath, Selene suddenly gasped. “You’re… you’re a Jedi?!”

Nix gave a crooked smirk without turning. “Yeah, sure. Call it whatever you want.”

“But… but the Jedi were—”

“—traitors and enemies of the Empire?” Talrin cut in, his voice dry. “Right. And now one of them’s here saving our butts. You can report her after we survive this nightmare.”

Selene stared at him, then slowly nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Let’s just keep going…”

Nix nodded in turn, her expression grave. “We need to find the others before that thing comes back.”

And with that, they pushed forward, their pace faster now, chased by the echoes of distant howls that warned them. This was far from over.

Suddenly, as if the complex itself was punishing them for pushing forward, the lights flickered once—twice—and then died completely with a soft, crackling hiss. The world plunged back into darkness, thick and impenetrable like spilled ink.

“That’s… not great,” Talrin muttered, gripping his blaster tighter as his eyes darted through the black.

Selene let out a shaky breath. “The generator’s nearly dead. We need to get out of here now.”

“Fantastic,” Talrin said dryly. “Better move before we’re stumbling around in pitch black.”

In the silence that followed, Nix reached for her belt and ignited her lightsaber with a sharp snap-hiss. The violet blade flared to life, casting eerie, shifting shadows on the walls and bathing the corridor in dim, ghostly light.

They continued forward, steps slow and careful. Each sound echoed louder than before—every creak in the walls, every distant thud or rustle seemed amplified, like the complex itself was listening. Nix led the way, senses on high alert, when she suddenly came to a halt.

“Hold up,” she whispered, raising a hand to stop them.

From up ahead, barely audible, came the faint rustle of movement… and voices. Low, muffled—distorted by walls and distance. But Nix’s breath caught. She knew those voices.

“Hello?” she called out, not loud, but clear. “Rex? Zeb?”

A pause. Then from the dark came a hesitant response: “Nix? Is that you?”

It was Rex—tired, but unmistakable. A beat later, Zeb’s voice rang out, more urgent: “We’re here!”

A wave of relief washed over her. “This way!” she called back, scanning the walls until she spotted a half-crushed side door—barely hanging off its hinges. She grabbed the edge, wrenched it open just enough, and slipped through into a larger hallway.

The others followed close behind, and moments later, faint beams of light cut through the gloom—flashlights mounted to blasters. The reunion was quick but heartfelt.

“You okay?” Rex asked, his eyes flicking to Selene in her torn Imperial uniform.

Zeb didn’t wait. He immediately leveled his bo-rifle at her. “And who the hell is she?!”

“Easy, Zeb,” Nix said firmly, stepping in front of Selene. “She’s with us. She helped us find a path out.”

Zeb growled low, unconvinced, but before he could argue, Talrin stepped up.

“She’s been with us for a while. If we want to make it out of here alive, we’re gonna need every pair of hands we’ve got.”

Rex gave a short nod and placed a calming hand on Zeb’s shoulder. “Let it go, for now. We’ll sort it out later.”

Zeb hesitated, then slowly lowered his weapon. “You better know what you’re doing.”

“We need to reach the main hall,” Selene cut in quickly. “It’s the fastest route out of the facility.”

They moved fast, the tension clinging to every step.

When they reached the central chamber, their worst fears were confirmed. It was wide open—vast and crumbling. The ceiling had partially collapsed, debris was scattered across the floor, and everything was drenched in shadow. The air stank of blood, rot, and stagnant moisture.

“This place is wide open,” Rex muttered as his gaze swept the room. “They could hit us from anywhere.”

“Then we move fast, stay tight, and keep quiet,” Talrin said, voice low but steady.

The group stepped into the open. Each footfall seemed to boom across the room. Nix led the way, lightsaber humming softly in her hand. Its violet glow cast long, warping shadows across the broken walls.

They were halfway through the hall when it happened. A guttural growl shattered the silence.

Everyone spun. Then—chaos.

More creatures. Not just one. Several. They came fast and hard, bursting from the shadows and broken machinery. Claws tore into metal. Jaws snapped at anything they could reach. Their roars echoed like thunder.

“Circle up! Cover each other!” Rex shouted, firing both blasters into the dark.

Zeb fought with wild precision, his face twisted with fury as he drove back one of the beasts with a heavy swing of his bo-rifle. Nix slashed and struck, hurling enemies back with bursts of the Force, but her strength was fading fast.

One of the monsters leapt straight at Rex. He didn’t see it coming.

But Selene did. With a terrified cry, she threw herself forward, screaming to draw the creature’s attention. It hesitated—just long enough.

Rex fired. A single bolt struck home, blasting through the exposed gap at the base of the creature’s throat.

“Thanks!” Rex shouted, stunned.

Selene didn’t respond—just gave a shaky nod, clutching her arm as she backed away.

“We need to move!” Nix called out, her voice raw from effort. “It’s not far now!”

Every blast of power she sent forward hurt more. The Force burned through her like fire. It was like trying to hold on to a rushing river with her bare hands—impossible to control, barely possible to channel. Her body trembled, lungs heaving, sweat running cold down her back. But she didn’t stop.

Zeb pushed forward, bloodied and scratched. Behind him came Rex and Talrin, helping a limping Selene along. Nix brought up the rear, her saber humming in the dark, cutting through dust and shadow like a beacon.

A bone-shaking roar erupted behind them.

The beasts were still hunting—injured, maybe, but not giving up. Their forms flickered in the broken light like nightmares, crawling through debris and shattered columns, relentless.

“Move!” Rex shouted as he spotted a jagged crack in the massive entrance doors—the same breach they’d come through at the start. Thin rays of daylight streamed through the gap, pale and unsure, like they didn’t quite belong in this place. But to them, it meant one thing: hope.

Zeb shoved aside the last chunk of debris and was the first to slip through. Talrin followed close behind, supporting the limping Selene as if shielding her from the world itself. She looked like she could barely stand, but he didn’t let her slow down.

Rex backed toward the exit, firing one last volley down the shadowed corridor before climbing through the gap.

Nix was the last. Her face was slick with sweat, lightsaber held in a defensive guard. As one of the beasts lunged at her from the dark, she flung out her hand in a final surge of lightning. The blast struck the monster square in the chest, sending it crashing back with a screech of pain.

Only then she stepped out into the light, squinting against the sudden brightness. Her lungs seized for a second—like she was relearning how to breathe.

The group collapsed to their knees just outside the entrance, leaning against a wall blackened by fire. They were wounded, exhausted, shaken to the core—but alive.

“Ghost, we need immediate pickup,” Rex said into his comlink, his voice ragged and urgent, leaving no doubt about what they’d just been through. “Now.”

“Copy that,” Hera’s voice came through, calm and steady as always. “I’m on my way.”

Only seconds later, the familiar hum of the Ghost’s engines rolled in from the distance. Nix looked up, eyes scanning the sky. Through the swirling dust, the outline of their ship began to take shape—a familiar silhouette, a light in the dark, a beacon of salvation.

But then—a growl. Low and guttural, echoing from the ruins behind them. Two shadows moved in the debris.

“No…” Talrin whispered, his eyes wide.

“Go, go, go—” Nix gasped, gripping her saber tighter. It wasn’t over yet.

The doors behind them trembled under the weight of slamming claws. The creatures were throwing themselves against the metal, bending it inward with every strike. Their roars filled the scorched air like a nightmare that refused to fade.

“That door won’t hold,” Zeb growled, raising his bo-rifle.

“The Ghost is almost here,” Nix said, her gaze locked on the horizon.

And then the Ghost dropped from the sky like a guardian angel, skimming low and landing just meters from the group. The boarding ramp shot open, venting a cloud of dust.

Hera’s voice crackled through the Rex’s comlink: “Someone order a ride?”

“All aboard!” Rex shouted. “As soon as we’re up, get us out of here!”

Zeb led the charge, covering the others. Talrin nearly carried Selene up the ramp, while Nix stayed behind once more, guarding the rear. The creatures were already forcing the doors open—metal groaning, twisting. One of them slipped through, claws slashing the air.

“We’re good—go!” Rex barked into his comlink the second Nix cleared the ramp.

The door sealed shut with a final hiss, and in the same breath, the Ghost roared upward, engines flaring as it punched skyward—leaving the nightmare behind.

For a long moment, there was only silence inside.

The hold was filled with the sound of heavy breathing, quiet groans, and the clink of armor settling. Rex leaned against the bulkhead, slowly pulling off his helmet. Zeb sat with his head down, breath ragged but steady.

Selene said nothing. She slumped against the wall, staring at nothing in particular. She didn’t know what would happen now. She was Imperial. She’d helped create the monsters down there. And now she was here—among those she’d once been told were the enemy.

Talrin dropped beside her, still catching his breath. For a few seconds, they just sat there in silence.

“You held up well,” he said softly, not looking at her.

Selene gave a weak smile, eyes still fixed on the floor. “Wouldn’t have made it without you.”

Talrin shrugged. “Wouldn’t have made it without you either.”

Near the back, Nix stood quietly by the ramp door, her breathing still fast, sweat clinging to her skin and her hair plastered to her forehead. She turned slowly and looked at the rest of the team. Despite the bruises and blood, there was something in their expressions—something unspoken, but real.

They’d made it. Together.

After a pause, Zeb pushed himself up with a grunt. “Let’s go. Time to tell Hera what the hell we just walked into.”

As they made their way to the cockpit, the tension slowly began to unravel. Everyone was still reeling from what they’d just survived. When they finally stepped onto the bridge, Hera was in her seat, eyes on the console. The Ghost was already cutting through the upper atmosphere.

She turned her head slightly and gave them a small nod. “Everyone in one piece?”

“Barely,” Zeb muttered. “But yeah.”

Nix stepped forward. “We found two survivors.”

Talrin gave a quiet nod. “Thanks for coming back for us. I’m Talrin Thallos. I’m with a rebel cell under Commander Dodonna, but I got captured. And the woman… that’s Dr. Selene Koss. She works for the Empire… but she helped me survive.”

Hera studied him for a moment, then gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “We’ll ping command on the way. Let them know what we’ve got. But… I’m glad you all made it out.”

Selene hovered near the corridor wall, eyes on the floor, hands clutching the frayed edge of her sleeve. Her voice came out barely above a whisper.

“What happens to me now?”

It wasn’t a question to anyone in particular—more a thought said out loud.

Hera turned to her, voice softer than usual. “Relax. We’re not dragging you back to our base. If you want, we’ll drop you on Lothal. Or wherever you wanna go.”

Selene nodded slowly. “Thank you… for saving me. And don’t worry. I won’t say a word... To anyone.”

Silence followed. No one responded, but they all heard her. And while none of them looked like they fully trusted her yet, no one pushed back either.

Nix offered a faint smile. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel like just some leftover passenger. Today, she hadn’t only helped her friends—she’d helped save strangers.

Zeb leaned against the wall beside Rex, chest still heaving from exhaustion. “So, what d’you think, Rex? Wanna do this again sometime… or, y’know… never?”

Rex gave him a tired smile, though his eyes were still shadowed. “With you? I wouldn’t be surprised if the next mission turns out just as bad.”

Zeb snorted and shook his head. “Great. Next time, let’s make sure we’re fighting something with a skeleton, at least.”

Suddenly, the Ghost gave a small tremor as it broke into hyperspace. The swirling clouds of Taral vanished behind them—along with the nightmares that had lurked there.

At least… for now.

Chapter Text

Nix snapped awake when her comlink buzzed loudly, dragging her out of a restless sleep. She sat up, still half-dazed, and fumbled for the device on the edge of her bed.

“Hello?” she mumbled, her voice still hoarse with sleep.

“Hey, Nix!” Ezra’s energetic voice crackled through, way too cheerful for this hour. “Hera called an emergency briefing. Can you get here, like, now?”

Nix rubbed her eyes, fighting a groan. “What happened?”

“No clue, to be honest,” Ezra admitted. “But Hera sounded serious. Better hurry.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Nix sighed and cut the transmission. She sat for a second, gathering herself, then swung her legs off the bed and ran her fingers through her hair to look at least half awake.

Moments later, she was already striding down the corridor toward the command deck, fixing her hair on the go.

When she arrived, most of the Ghost’s crew was already gathered. Ezra spotted her instantly and grinned.

“Faster than usual,” he teased.

“Bite me,” Nix shot back, but she returned his smile. “So? What’s going on?”

Ezra shrugged. “We’ll find out in a sec. I just have a feeling it’s gonna be messy.”

Hera stepped forward to the center, Commander Sato standing solidly at her side. The room quieted at once, all eyes on her.

“We just got a message from Cham Syndulla,” Hera began, her voice steady but grave. “One of their hidden bases on Ryloth was discovered by an Imperial patrol. They’re asking for immediate extraction. They need transport out and cover fire so they can get clear.”

“Sounds real nasty,” Zeb muttered under his breath. Sabine frowned, arms crossed tight.

“Ghost ready to launch?” Kanan asked immediately.

“Ready and waiting,” Hera confirmed. “We’re leaving now. But there’s more.” She turned her gaze to Nix, who stiffened under the sudden attention. “I’ve got a special assignment for you.”

“For me?” Nix echoed, glancing around at the others, caught off guard. “What kind of assignment?”

Hera stepped closer, her tone softer but unmistakably commanding. “You’re the only one here the Empire doesn’t know exists. No records, no files—nothing. That’s a rare advantage, and we’re going to use it.”

Nix swallowed, a thrill of adrenaline stirring under her ribs. “Use it how, exactly?”

“I was going to hold this back for a few more days, but since we’re headed to Ryloth anyway, we’ll do it now.” Hera explained, her eyes steady. “You’re going to infiltrate Tann Province, my old home, the Syndulla estate. Sabine will forge you a full cover ID during the flight. You’ll pose as a low-ranking Imperial logistics officer. Your job is to grab anything useful—supply routes, weapons stockpiles, troop numbers—whatever we can use to help the locals take back control.”

Nix tried to nod confidently, but her voice betrayed a slight tremor. “Okay. I can do that.”

“Good.” Hera gave her a firm, approving nod, then addressed the crew again. “Gear up, everyone. We lift off in ten. Final details on the Ghost.”

The room broke into motion instantly. Ezra lingered by Nix’s side, studying her with a hint of worry. “You good?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” she exhaled, forcing down the nerves bubbling up. “Didn’t really expect to get sent in solo, though.”

“If it were up to me, I’d go with you,” Ezra said honestly. “But… you’ve got this. I know you do.”

She smiled faintly. “Thanks.”

Ezra squeezed her shoulder gently. “We’ll stay in touch. If anything goes wrong, call us. We’ll come for you—no matter what.”

“I know,” she said softly, watching him head off down the corridor to grab his gear. For a moment, the hallway looked impossibly long and empty.

She let out a slow breath, squared her shoulders, and turned back to her cabin to get ready for the hardest mission she’d ever pulled.

A few minutes later, Nix hurried onto the Ghost’s ramp, where the others were already waiting. As soon as she stepped inside, both Ezra and Sabine turned to look at her.

“Whoa,” Ezra said with a crooked grin. “You look like a straight-up Imp.”

Nix raised a brow and smirked back. “Yeah, well… Considering I used to be one, maybe that’s not too shocking,” she shot back, tugging at the sleeve of the spotless Imperial uniform Sabine had prepped for her. It felt stiff, crisp, and far too neat—nothing like what she was used to wearing.

Sabine stepped closer, giving her a quick once-over. “Hair still needs fixing. Imperial regs prefer something stricter,” she said, handing Nix a handful of clips and pins.

“Fantastic,” Nix muttered under her breath, snatching them from her. In a few practiced motions, she twisted her hair back into a tight, regulation-perfect bun. “Better?”

“Perfect,” Sabine said approvingly, nodding. “I’d buy it.”

Ezra let out a soft laugh. “Almost too convincing. Just don’t decide to stick with them.”

“Oh please, unless they offer me a promotion and my own landspeeder, they can forget it,” Nix shot back with a playful grin. The banter did its job and she felt her nerves ease a little. She turned to Sabine, more serious now. “Alright, what does my shiny fake identity say about me?”

Sabine tapped her datapad and pulled up the cover story. “Your new name is Junior Lieutenant Lyra Kasto. You’re assigned to Ryloth’s logistics and supply branch. Low-level officer, so you won’t draw too much attention, but you’ll have access to most of the data we need. Keep your head up and act like you belong, and no one’s gonna question you.”

“Lyra Kasto,” Nix repeated, testing the name on her tongue before giving a small nod. “Okay. I can work with that.”

“You’ll crush it,” Ezra said, giving her an encouraging nudge. “Besides, Sabine’s basically an expert at sneaking into Imperial spots these days.”

Sabine cracked a quick smile. “I just got back from an Imperial pilot academy, remember? Trust me, rule number one is act like you own the place. Nobody second-guesses a confident officer.”

“And if someone does?” Ezra jumped in with a grin. “Throw out something like, ‘I gave that order myself, are you questioning command?’ Works every time.”

Nix let out a soft laugh. “Good to know.”

Above them, Hera’s voice came through the ship’s comm system, calm but unmistakable: “Everyone to the cockpit. We need to wrap up the plan.”

Ezra and Sabine exchanged a quick nod and headed for the cockpit with Nix right behind them. When they arrived, Hera was already in the pilot’s chair, focused on a flickering holographic map of Ryloth projected in the air, with Kanan beside her.

“Alright,” Hera began once they were all gathered around. “Nix, we’ll drop you off just outside one of the towns. From there, Imperial cargo speeders make regular runs straight into Tann Province. You’ll need to blend in and hitch a ride right up to my old family estate.”

“Blend in?” Nix repeated doubtfully.

Hera lifted her shoulders in a small shrug, a confident smile tugging at her lips. “Trust me, Imperials thrive on chaos. Look like you belong, keep moving, and no one will think twice. By the time you reach the province, Chopper will have uploaded your ID into their system. And if anything goes sideways, he’ll be your contact on the inside.”

“Chopper?” Nix echoed, blinking.

Hera nodded. “He’s infiltrating ahead of you. If trouble comes knocking, find him first.”

“He’s a pro at cleaning up messes,” Ezra added with a laugh.

Nix hesitated for just a heartbeat, then squared her shoulders and nodded firmly. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Hera’s eyes softened just a touch as she gave a nod back. “We’ll be heading to rendezvous with my father, see what else we can do to help on the ground. Get ready, Nix. We’ll drop you in a few minutes.”

Nix leaned back against the bulkhead, heart pounding with nerves and adrenaline, her eyes locked on the growing sphere of Ryloth outside the cockpit window.

The Ghost landed smoothly and silently just outside the small town with Imperial supply depot nearby. As Nix stepped carefully down the ramp, Hera’s calm but firm voice came through her earpiece one last time. “Stay sharp, Nix. If anything goes wrong, reach out to Chopper.”

“I will,” Nix murmured back, eyes locked on the depot ahead as the ramp hissed closed behind her. Within seconds, the Ghost lifted off again, disappearing into the cloudy sky as if it had never been there.

Nix drew in a slow breath and tugged her uniform into place. On the outside, she looked calm—inside, her heartbeat drummed against her ribs like a snare. She set off at a brisk, purposeful pace toward the cluster of dull gray Imperial buildings surrounded by a tall fence topped with humming electric wire.

There was no obvious main gate—at least not for someone without a proper ID or escort. But wasting time wasn’t an option. Keeping close to the shadow of a makeshift warehouse, she crept along the perimeter until she spotted a dimly lit stretch of fence. A single security camera swept lazily back and forth in a slow, predictable arc.

Nix crouched low, counted the seconds, and the moment the camera swung away, she pushed off the ground in one fluid, cat-like leap. She cleared the fence with practiced ease, landing behind a crate stacked with supply containers. She stayed crouched in the shadows for a heartbeat, listening. Nothing—just the hum of machinery and the distant shouts of officers barking orders.

She smoothed out her uniform, straightened her belt, and stepped out from her cover, merging seamlessly into the organized chaos of the depot. Stormtroopers hauled crates back and forth. Officers argued over clipboards and datapads. No one spared her a second glance.

Keeping her stride confident, she headed straight toward the cluster of cargo speeders parked near a loading dock. Her eyes flicked quickly from one to another until she spotted a group of troopers loading the final crates onto a larger speeder transport. Over the din, she caught a mention of Tann Province. Perfect.

Nix squared her shoulders and strode up to them like she owned the place.

“Sorry for the delay!” she called out, voice sharp and authoritative as she approached. “Are we ready to go or what?”

A few stormtroopers turned to look at her. One older officer, shoulders slumped and datapad clutched tight, squinted at her suspiciously.

“And you are…?”

“Junior Lieutenant Lyra Kasto. Logistics and supply,” Nix shot back, flipping open the datapad Sabine had rigged for her. She made sure her tone landed somewhere between bored and impatient. “I was reassigned here this morning. Didn’t they tell you?”

The officer blinked, scrolling through his datapad with a frustrated grunt. “No one tells me anything these days...”

“Figures,” Nix sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes just enough to sell it. “Look, I’ve got urgent supply paperwork that needs to reach Tann Province. We don’t have all day, so if we’re loaded up, let’s move.”

For a second, the man looked like he might argue. Then he just shrugged, defeated. “Fine. Hop in. We’re rolling out any minute.”

Nix gave him a curt nod and climbed into the front cabin of the transport as the last crates clanged into place. A young driver slid into the seat beside her, tapping the console to run a systems check.

“Logistics, huh?” he said, side-eyeing her with a faint, curious grin.

“Yeah.” Nix kept her voice cool, unfazed. “Someone’s gotta keep you guys supplied.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “I hear that. Beats foot patrol any day. I’m just happy to be driving.”

“Can’t blame you,” Nix said, allowing herself a small, relaxed smile as she settled back into the stiff seat.

A few seconds later, the transport lurched forward, flanked by four smaller escort speeders humming steadily behind them. The ride was smooth, mostly quiet—just the occasional static chatter of routine check-ins over the comm.

As the Tann Province came into view, Nix could feel her pulse quicken. At the checkpoint gate, an Imperial officer stepped up to the cabin window.

“Identification.”

Nix handed over her forged card without flinching. The officer scanned it, tapped a few things on his datapad, then handed it back with a curt nod. “Welcome to Tann Province, Junior Lieutenant Kasto.”

“Thank you,” she replied calmly, biting back the sigh of relief bubbling up.

The transport rolled onward, weaving through the heart of the settlement where squat Imperial structures pressed against the graceful outlines of old Twi’lek architecture. Finally, the speeder shuddered to a stop near a large storage compound.

Nix hopped out before the engine even powered down. She turned to the young driver, mask of confidence still firmly in place. “I’ll deliver these docs straight to command myself. Take care of the unloading.”

The driver looked mildly surprised but nodded obediently. “Yes, ma’am.”

With every step she put between herself and the supply depot, Nix slipped deeper into the steady flow of Imperial officers and stormtroopers moving through the streets of Tann Province. On the surface, the city was beautiful—exotic curves, bright mosaics, and graceful archways that whispered of Ryloth’s old pride. But a closer look made the truth impossible to ignore.

The stone alleys that once pulsed with Twi’lek life now echoed only with the click of armored boots and the crackle of distant comm chatter. The signature archways and sunlit courtyards were drowned beneath blocky gray checkpoints and sterile command posts. On every corner, stormtroopers stood sentinel, heads turning mechanically behind glossy helmets, watching for anyone who dared stand out.

Nix quickened her pace, heart pounding louder than her boots on the stone. Ahead, perched atop a gentle rise, loomed the Syndulla residence.

She fell in line behind a couple of Imperial officers heading for the main entrance, matching their stride, shoulders squared and chin high. As she approached the front doors, two stormtroopers stepped into her path, rifles angled down but hands steady.

“Identification,” one of them droned, voice crackling through the helmet.

Nix didn’t flinch. She produced her forged ID card and handed it over smoothly. The trooper scanned it against his handheld reader. A small green light blinked after a tense heartbeat.

“All clear, Junior Lieutenant. Proceed.”

Nix accepted her card back with a curt nod, ignoring the prickle of sweat on her spine. Without a word, she stepped past them and crossed the threshold into what was once Hera’s home.

Inside, the contrast hit her like a slap. Where there should have been rich colors and soft archways, the Empire had carved out a grid of cold corridors lined with blinking monitors, exposed cabling, and armed patrols at every junction. Whatever warmth had lived here was buried under layers of polished durasteel and humming consoles.

Nix set off down a wide, gray corridor, boots clicking in time with the low hum of overhead lights. She made herself walk like she’d done this a thousand times—head up, eyes forward, ignoring the tight coil of nerves in her gut. She passed two patrols without a second glance, each nodding briskly at her rank tabs before moving on.

At the first junction, she ducked around a corner, heart hammering when she nearly collided with a squad of troopers clustered around a young officer, deep in an animated argument. Nix shifted her weight, steadying her breath, and kept her eyes down. One trooper brushed past her shoulder but didn’t even look her way.

She waited three heartbeats longer, then eased forward again. One more hallway. One more door.

She picked one at random, hoping the residence’s original layout hadn’t been changed too much. As the door hissed open, her stomach lurched—a break room. Half a dozen troopers lounged at metal tables, helmets off, laughing over rehydrated rations and half-finished stories. Every head turned at the soft hiss of the door.

Nix froze for a split second, then summoned her best bored-officer face. She swept her gaze across them once—nothing to see here—and stepped back, letting the door hiss shut. Muffled laughter bubbled up again behind her.

She let out a quiet curse and turned sharply down the next hallway, blood roaring in her ears. She barely rounded the corner before she barreled right into someone. Hard.

A datapad skittered across the polished floor as a sharp voice barked out, “Watch it!”

Nix stumbled back a step, straightening to find herself face-to-face with a young Imperial officer—early twenties at best, hair combed to regulation perfection, blue eyes narrowed in suspicion as they flicked over her uniform.

“Lieutenant?” he asked, voice tight. “I don’t know you. Which station are you from?”

For half a heartbeat, her mind stuttered. Then training—and pure nerve—kicked in.

“Junior Lieutenant Kasto. Logistics,” she said flatly, tone dripping with practiced boredom. “Transferred in this morning. I’m verifying supply schedules—HQ wants an updated manifest on munitions and equipment for the outbound transports.”

His eyes flicked to her rank bar, then back up. His ID badge read Craig Relor. He frowned, clearly weighing whether to push.

“Checking manifests? Now?” Relor asked, suspicion sharpening each word. “Don’t you have network access at your own station?”

Nix didn’t hesitate. She let out a dramatic sigh and rolled her eyes like a true Imperial grunt sick of broken tech. “Of course it’s down. Systems update. My whole terminal’s locked up, and command doesn’t want excuses. They want numbers. So here I am.”

Relor’s shoulders sagged, annoyance cracking through his suspicion. He let out a low groan. “Typical. Nothing ever works around here.”

“Yes, sir,” Nix said crisply, layering just the right note of Imperial exasperation under the respect.

Relor scrubbed a hand down his face, then gestured down the hall. “Fine. I have business in the lower level anyway. Come with me. At least I’ll know you’re not wandering where you shouldn’t.”

Relief flooded through her chest so fast it almost made her dizzy. She masked it with a single nod. “Thank you, sir.”

Nix followed Relor through the maze of corridors, every step echoing a soft click of Imperial boots on polished stone. The deeper they went, the more the low hum of Imperial machinery buzzed against her ears.

Relor finally stopped at a set of reinforced doors, swiping his clearance card through the wall terminal. With a muted hiss, the doors split open to reveal a compact lift.

When the lift doors parted again, she drew a silent breath and forced her heartbeat down, stepping out behind Relor into a dimly lit, narrow hallway. They passed a pair of technicians fiddling with a faulty panel.

Finally, Relor came to a stop before one of the doors. The lock disengaged, revealing a large, sterile workroom filled with consoles, flickering monitors, and a wide tactical display plastered across the far wall. Clusters of stormtroopers and uniformed techs bustled around, their chatter low and precise.

“You can use that terminal there,” Relor said, pointing at a station off to the side. He crossed the room and scanned his card again. The screen came alive under his hand, flickering to life with rows of access prompts.

“Thank you, sir,” Nix said smoothly. She slid into the chair, schooling her face into bored focus even as her heart flipped in her chest. She barely heard Relor grunt an approval before striding away to bark orders at a knot of techs by the main display.

Nix’s fingers danced over the keys, all hesitation gone. First priority: transport logs—arrival and departure times, cargo manifests, detailed cargo breakdowns. She copied everything to the slim data stick Sabine had pressed into her palm hours before.

Next: local armory inventories—blasters, grenades, spare power cells, portable launchers—enough to arm a rebel cell twice over. Third pass: troop deployments. Patrol routes, numbers, reinforcement schedules. Finally, at the bottom of the tree—encrypted comm codes. Most locked tight, but enough were raw text to be useful. Better than nothing.

The download bar ticked green. Transfer complete.

Nix forced herself to exhale, feeling the tight band around her ribs loosen for the first time since she’d set foot in this place. She yanked the stick out, palming it behind her back just as a polite throat-clearing startled her.

Relor stood beside her again, datapad tucked under one arm, expression a mix of impatience and faint suspicion.

“Well? Got everything you needed, Lieutenant Kasto?” His eyes flicked to her hands, then back up.

Nix rose smoothly, shoulders squared, her smile a perfect mask. “Yes, sir. All done. Thank you for the assistance.”

Relor studied her face for a heartbeat that dragged. Then he gestured sharply toward the door. “Good. If you’re finished, let’s get you back topside. There’s enough chaos up there without stray logistics officers clogging up my halls.”

Nix gave a simple nod and walked alongside Lieutenant Relor back toward the lift. But just as they stepped out of the tech room, her eyes caught something just ahead—and her stomach flipped.

Not far away, Hera stood clutching a small, carved totem. Beside her, in full Scout Trooper armor, was Ezra. Nix’s heart nearly stopped. If Relor saw them, he’d raise the alarm.

Without thinking, Nix grabbed Relor by the wrist, and yanked him toward her.

“What are you—” he started, stumbling a bit, blinking in confusion as she turned him sharply to face her, blocking his view of Hera and Ezra entirely.

“Just look at me,” Nix said firmly, locking eyes with him. “Right at me, just keep looking.”

Relor frowned, his suspicion returning fast. “Why?”

Her mind raced. She had nothing. “Well, because…” she blurted. “Because…”

He started to turn his head, but she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer.

“Because I love you!” she blurted, louder than she meant to.

Relor froze. “You… you what?”

“Yes, Craig. I love you,” she said, somehow managing a straight face. “It’s always been you. Just you.”

His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Behind him, Nix caught the briefest glimpse of Ezra, hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“You didn’t notice me before because I blended in,” she said, voice low and urgent. “But this assignment… it finally gave me an excuse to get close to you.”

Relor looked like someone had hit him with a stun baton. His face went pale.

Behind him, Hera and Ezra slipped away down a side corridor. Nix held her pose just a moment longer, then released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“This—this is highly inappropriate,” Relor stammered, gently stepping out of her grasp. “I—I don’t think—this really isn't—”

“But we’re meant to be together!” she called after him with dramatic flair as he stumbled backward toward the lift. “Can’t you see that?”

Relor paused, looking stricken. “Maybe we could—uh—talk later… or not. Probably not.” And with that, he turned and disappeared down the hallway at twice his usual pace.

Nix let out a quiet, shaky laugh and turned on her heel, heading toward the corner where she’d last seen the others. Sure enough, Hera and Ezra were waiting just out of sight—Ezra grinning like he’d never stop.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Nix whispered, checking the hall behind her. “You scared Craig off.”

Ezra barely held back a laugh. “Pretty sure you did that all on your own. Wasn’t he a little old for you?”

Nix glared at him, though her lips twitched. “He was useful. I could’ve gotten more info out of him.” Her voice dropped, serious again. “But seriously, why are you here?”

Hera gave a tired sigh, her grip tightening around the carved relic in her hand. “I came back for this. Our family Kalikori. And now we need to get out. Fast.”

“Agreed,” Nix muttered. “I think I’ve got everything we need, too.”

The three of them moved quickly toward the lift, Hera leading with the Kalikori cradled close. Nix stayed at the rear, eyes flicking to every shadow, every corner. When they reached the upper floor again, Chopper rolled into view, waving his arms enthusiastically.

“Chopper,” Hera breathed, visibly relieved. “Am I glad to see you. We could use some help getting out of here.”

The droid beeped sharply, clearly already ahead of them with an escape plan. Nix glanced over her shoulder one last time, half expecting to see Relor’s confused face peeking around a corner.

“Let’s go,” she said quietly, falling in step with the others as they made their way toward the exit.

They moved with purpose, threading through narrow halls as fast and quiet as possible.

Eventually, they reached the entrance to a large chamber near the residence’s exit. The room was adorned with elegant Twi’lek design—arched pillars with mosaic—but now tainted by Imperial sterility. The warmth had long since bled out.

Two stormtroopers stood guard at the far end, rifles in hand.

“Chop was right,” Hera whispered. “There are less guards here.”

“Well, I guess they’re not expecting prisoners to just walk out the front door,” Ezra added. “We just need a diversion.”

Nix scanned the room quickly, then leaned toward Hera. “I think I can do it.”

Hera nodded. “But be careful.”

Nix slipped her datapad from her belt, pretending to double-check a few files as she covertly copied random supply logs she stole. She drew a quiet breath, forced her shoulders to relax, and stepped calmly into the corridor, aiming straight for the two stormtroopers blocking the exit.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said, her voice pitched just a touch uncertain—just enough to look harmless. “I… can’t seem to locate anyone from command, and you two might be able to help.”

She held up the datapad, its screen filled with a jumble of logistics numbers. The troopers exchanged a glance through their visors, then looked back at her.

“We don’t handle supply, ma’am,” one said stiffly.

“I know, I know,” Nix pushed, edging closer so her body blocked their line of sight into the room behind her. Just out of view, she glimpsed Hera and Ezra slip quietly past the archway and duck behind a wide decorative partition.

“But look—” She pointed urgently at the datapad, tapping rows of figures. “See this? It doesn’t match the requisition forms. Someone messed up the ammo order.”

The troopers shifted uncomfortably, glancing at each other again. Hera crept closer to the exit behind them, cradling the Kalikori against her chest.

One of the troopers cleared his throat. “We really don’t know anything about supply.”

“Please,” Nix pressed, making her eyes just wide enough to sell it. “Just look for a second—”

But she didn’t finish. A cold, commanding voice sliced through the tension like a vibroblade.

“Out of the way, servant.”

Nix stiffened. She lifted her gaze slowly and felt her stomach turn to stone.

Two men had just stepped into view—one, a stiff-backed Imperial captain with coal-black hair and an expression carved from stone. But the other… Tall. Perfectly pressed white uniform. Blue skin that glowed faintly under the hall lights. Crimson eyes that locked onto her like a predator sizing up prey.

In front of them stood Hera, who was just trying to sneak towards the exit.

“You are not permitted on these floors,” The officer continued, “I have told you people, restrict your movements to the kitchen.”

Hera dipped her head low, hiding her face as she murmured, “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

Hera tried to edge around him, but Thrawn didn’t so much as move. His voice stayed soft, almost gentle—and chilling for it.

“Just a moment. Guards—bring her here.”

The stormtroopers jolted to attention. But before they could do anything, Ezra—still masked as a Scout Trooper—stepped in, grabbing Hera himself. One stormtrooper followed close behind.

Thrawn turned his full attention to Hera’s hands, his eyes settling on the Kalikori she clutched. He tilted his head slightly, studying the delicate carving as though it were a puzzle just for him.

“May I see that?” he asked politely, though it wasn’t a question.

Hera swallowed and handed it over. Thrawn turned it over carefully in his gloved hands, tracing the lines of the family heirloom.

“I’m a visitor to your world,” he said, tone almost conversational, eyes never leaving the relic. “It occurs to me it might be beneficial to hear what you have to say about our Imperial occupation.”

Hera’s voice barely rose above a whisper. “I don’t think I could be of any help to you.”

Thrawn smiled faintly. “Oh, I disagree.” He flicked a glance to the captain next to him. “Take her to your office for questioning.”

Ezra dipped his head in stiff mimicry of a loyal trooper and guided Hera away, one hand tight on her elbow. The stormtrooper fell in behind them, boots clattering down the stone corridor.

Nix stayed frozen, clutching the datapad, heart hammering in her chest. She was alone—face to face with Thrawn, the stone-faced captain, and the second trooper now watching her like a hawk.

The captain’s glare landed on her like a slap. “And you? What do you think you’re doing here?”

Nix’s throat bobbed. She forced her mind to catch up, threw on her best bureaucratic mask, and cleared her throat. “Junior Lieutenant Kasto, sir. Logistics. I was trying to verify a few inconsistencies in the heavy munitions requisitions, but—”

“Not a concern for Grand Admiral Thrawn,” the captain snapped. “Find Lieutenant Relor if you must waste someone’s time.”

Nix dipped her head so fast it nearly hid the flash of panic in her eyes. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

She pivoted sharply, datapad hugged to her chest, and slipped into the hallway without daring to look back. She didn’t get far before Chopper whirred around a corner in front of her, lights blinking in frantic rhythm.

“Chopper!” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder. “What should we do now?”

The droid let out an impatient series of garbled beeps and zipped off, clearly expecting her to follow. She gripped her datapad tighter and trailed him, winding through dim corridors and tight service passages until they ducked into a shadowy storage bay.

It smelled of cold metal and stale air. Crates lined the walls in crooked stacks. One battered terminal flickered against the far wall.

Chopper rolled up to it and jammed in his scomp link, muttering an electronic growl that made Nix roll her eyes.

While Chopper chirped and spat angry binary at the terminal, Nix paced the room in a tight loop. She cracked open crates at random—standard rations, half-broken old rifles—then paused at one lined with metal canisters. She popped the lid on one and exhaled softly.

“Stun grenades? Not on the logs, I bet,” she murmured, snapping a quick photo with her datapad. The next crate held chemical dispersal canisters, gleaming under the dim lights.

“Oh, Sabine’s gonna love this,” she muttered with a grim grin.

After a moment, Chopper spun toward Nix, his dome twisting with an urgent series of grumpy beeps.

“What? What is it now?” she whispered, leaning in closer.

Chopper projected a cluster of flickering Imperial comms on the wall—Nix’s eyes widened as she scanned the scrambled reports. Her stomach dropped.

“So… they captured Hera and Ezra... and this Captain Slavin offered to trade them to Cham if he surrenders?” she said, her voice sharp with disbelief.

Chopper let out a low, rumbling grumble of confirmation.

Nix pressed a palm to her forehead, mind racing. “And… Cham agreed?”

The droid’s answering beep was clipped but clear. Nix cursed under her breath, then locked eyes with him again. “Fine. So we don’t let the trade happen. We bust them out ourselves—no trade, no surrender.”

Chopper paused, then let out a quick, triumphant squeal and shot off like a bolt.

“Hey! Chopper! Wait—do you even know where they’re holding them?” Nix hissed, jogging after him.

But the droid ignored her, zooming down the corridor like an angry cannonball. He screeched to a halt at the lift, forcing Nix to skid to a stop beside him. The doors swished open; she barely caught her breath before they dropped several levels deeper into the residence’s hidden underbelly.

Nix glanced around uneasily as Chopper rolled out and zig-zagged through the labyrinthine halls, his battered shell blending in just enough to avoid the casual glances of passing patrols. Her Imperial uniform helped too.

Finally, Chopper stopped short in a dark side hall lined with identical security doors. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a droid curse, then rolled to the next one. Then the next. And the next.

Then Chopper beeped, high and bright—found it—and jammed his scomp link into the panel. Nix’s heart lurched as the lock clicked open.

Inside, a startled Ezra nearly fell backward as the door swung wide, catching himself with a hiss. Hera spun around, eyes narrowing before recognition softened her face.

“Chopper!” Ezra snapped, shoving the droid back half a foot.

The droid let out a defensive warble, then launched into a rapid stream of beeps and modulated grunts directed at Hera.

Hera‘s expression sharpened. „My father’s actually surrendering?“

Nix leaned against the doorframe, grinning. “Surprise.”

“Nix!” Ezra said, equal parts relief and incredulity.

She tilted her head. “So… you two have a plan, right? Because I don’t.”

Ezra blew out a breath. “Yeah, we’ve got one. They can’t make a prisoner exchange without prisoners. Let’s go.”

But Hera shook her head. “Not yet. There are too many guards. We’re going to go through with this exchange… but on my terms.”

She turned her gaze to Chopper. “Chopper, I want you to raid the Imperial armory and get as many explosives as you can.”

The droid’s response was an ecstatic whistle and a spinning of his dome.

Nix blinked at Hera, then at Ezra, who was still processing. “You’re… You’re gonna blow up your house?”

Hera met Ezra’s worried stare, her voice steady. “My home is my crew and family.”

Nix stared at them both. “Great. So my hard-earned intel’s… useless now?”

Hera stepped closer, her expression warm despite the chaos closing in around them. “Not useless. We’ll use every bit of what you pulled. Just not tonight. For now—find somewhere safe to hide until the fireworks start. Then slip out in the confusion.”

Nix let out a breathy laugh, somewhere between relief and exasperation. “Right. Hide, wait for explosion. Got it.”

She turned her head at Ezra, a mischievous grin creeping across her face. “By the way, you look pretty good in that tin can, Bridger.”

Ezra sputtered in surprise. “I—what—?”

Nix winked, spun on her heel before he could say anything else, and tossed over her shoulder, “See you on the other side.”

Nix stepped out into the open air, the courtyard in front of the Syndulla residence stretching wide under the heavy sky. She scanned the area quickly, spotted a stack of tall cargo crates near the edge of the square, and ducked behind them, pressing her back to the cool metal.

Her pulse drummed in her ears as she peered around the edge, watching the tension build.

The familiar thrum of the Ghost’s engines echoed overhead—hovering just low enough to be ready. Dust stirred beneath the landing struts as the ship settled into position, its ramp already lowered in expectation.

At the same moment, the front doors of the residence swung wide. Out strode Captain Slavin, chin high and eyes cold, a blaster in his grip. Behind him, Hera and Ezra were marched forward, their wrists bound, stormtroopers flanking them closely.

Cham Syndulla and Kanan had already stepped down onto the ramp of the Ghost, standing still beneath the humming engines, eyes fixed on the prisoners.

Slavin’s voice rang out, sharp and theatrical: “Syndulla. At last we meet face-to-face.” He raised his chin, as if savoring the moment. “Step forward, alone, and turn yourself over as promised.”

Cham didn't move. “Not until you release them.”

Slavin narrowed his eyes. “We’ll make a simultaneous exchange,” he barked, voice cutting through the still air. At his signal, a stormtrooper shoved Hera and Ezra forward, driving them several steps closer toward the ramp.

But just then, a familiar dome rolled boldly out from the building—Chopper, trundling straight past Slavin.

“Droid?! What are you doing?!” Slavin snapped, voice cracking with irritation.

Nix stepped out from cover with calculated calm, datapad still clutched to her chest, wearing her best clueless-officer mask. “Captain Slavin? Sir? Do you have a moment to discuss—”

“You again?!” Slavin snarled, spinning on her. “I told you to—”

Just then Hera’s voice cut through everything: “Chopper!”

The droid let out a delighted beep and slammed a stubby limb down on his internal detonator.

The explosion ripped through the courtyard like a thunderclap.

Nix’s reflexes screamed—she spun, threw up her hand, and a flickering shield snapped to life. Just then the blast wave slammed into her force-shield. Slavin and the nearest trooper weren’t so lucky. Both were hurled like rag dolls, crashing to the ground in a heap.

Slavin roared behind her, hoarse with fury: “Stop them!”

Nix ducked as blaster bolts hissed past. The Ghost hovered just meters away, ramp down—Kanan stood at the edge, lightsaber flashing, batting shots aside like nothing.

Nix drew a quick breath, spun mid-stride, and flung her hand out. Force-lightning cracked through the air—troopers stumbled, weapons fizzled. An AT-DP walker behind them seized up mid-turn and crashed to its knees with a metallic groan.

A rocket screamed through the smoke—straight for the Ghost.

But Kanan just raised his hand. The Force caught the rocket, spun it mid-air, and hurled it back at the walker. The resulting explosion rocked the courtyard again, swallowing the walker in a ball of fire.

Nix hit the ramp at full speed. Kanan grabbed her arm, hauling her inside just as the ramp hissed shut behind them. She stumbled forward, gasping, her pulse a wildfire in her chest.

“Nice work,” Kanan murmured.

“Thanks,” she wheezed, still catching her breath.

They made their way into the common area as the Ghost banked hard and shot skyward, leaving plumes of smoke and a chorus of confused Imperial comms behind.

Ezra was there already, still in his stolen Scout Trooper armor, helmet tucked under one arm. Their eyes met, and despite the pounding in her ears, Nix felt a laugh bubble up.

She squared her shoulders and gave him a crisp nod. “Trooper.”

Ezra straightened, fighting a grin. “Lieutenant.”

Ezra shot Nix a crooked grin. “For a second back there, I was really worried about you.”

Nix smirked, brushing a stray hair from her face. “Honestly? I’m more worried Craig’s going to need therapy after this.”

Ezra barked a laugh. “Maybe he’ll resign from the Empire out of heartbreak.”

“Or check himself into a nice Imperial psych ward,” Nix teased back.

Ezra shifted, hesitating. “You know… that uniform? Looks good on you.”

Nix raised a brow, smirking. “Is that a compliment, Bridger?”

He shrugged, failing to hide a grin. “Maybe it is.”

She let the silence hang, then tapped his chestplate. “Then stop flirting with your superior, trooper.”

Ezra’s grin cracked wide. For a fleeting second, the roar of engines and distant shouting faded.

A heavy hand clapped Ezra’s shoulder—Zeb, looming behind him with a lopsided smirk. “Hey, tin can—swap out of that before someone mistakes you for the real deal.”

Ezra threw up his hands. “Working on it, Zeb!”

Nix just laughed—quick, breathless, and real. She drifted to one of the padded benches along the wall, letting her body sink into the cushions. The hum of the Ghost settled around her like a heartbeat.

It had been chaos—worse than any infiltration she’d ever done.

Chapter Text

The quiet hum of the ship’s systems drifted through the air like the breath of some slumbering beast. On the command bridge of the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera, all was as it should be. Silent, precise, composed. Only the occasional subdued status report from officers broke the stillness.

But deep within the ship, in the private sanctum of the Grand Admiral, the silence was nearly absolute.

Thrawn sat motionless behind his austere, elegant desk. The tall walls surrounding him were adorned with carefully curated artifacts: statues, weapons, strips of fabric, remnants of once-proud cultures he had studied. Everything had its place. Every piece had been chosen as deliberately as every move in the game he never stopped playing.

Before him, in a blue-tinted hologram flickered Captain Slavin, speaking in a voice taut with anxious obedience.

“...and even so, Grand Admiral, I believe we managed to recover most of the equipment. However,” Slavin hesitated and swallowed hard, “I must report an unusual incident.”

Thrawn didn’t move. Only the faint shift in his gaze betrayed that he was listening.

“During the attempted prisoner exchange… there was another young girl among the rebels. It appears she was using the Force. She unleashed something that looked like… lightning. Perhaps another Jedi.”

The silence in the room somehow deepened. It was as if even the walls were listening now. Thrawn’s red eyes gleamed faintly in the shadows.

“Describe her,” he said calmly, the quiet command carrying such weight that Slavin visibly stiffened.

“She was young. Small. White hair. Pale skin… So pale you could almost see dark veins under it. And her eyes… yellow, with a reddish edge. I—I thought it was some kind of implant at first, but...” Slavin trailed off, as if expecting to be reprimanded just for uttering it.

Thrawn gave a single nod, as if making a note in his perfect memory.

“Thank you, Captain. Your report was… enlightening. I will handle further analysis. Expect detailed orders soon.”

“Yes, Grand Admiral,” Slavin replied, bowing stiffly before the hologram dissolved into nothing.

Thrawn remained seated in total stillness. His long fingers hovered just above the edge of his desk, barely touching it. His mind was already unraveling new threads, new moves and new pieces added to the board.

Another player. Unplanned. Unseen. And yet… fascinating.

“The Force,” he murmured, almost to himself. His gaze shifted toward a delicate, intricately carved Jedi statue perched in the corner of the room, recovered from a ruined temple world, its robes forever billowing in stone.

“It always brings new faces… and new threats.”

He rose slowly, clasping his hands behind his back, and stepped toward the panoramic viewport that framed a silent expanse of stars.

A girl with white hair. Using Force lightning… so unlike the Jedi he knew.

Thrawn allowed himself the faintest of smiles.

“Surprises and secrets,” he murmured, “are a natural part of war. But they rarely remain secrets for long.”

Then he fell back into his usual, glacial silence—already calculating the opening moves of a new game.

The sun over Atollon drifted slowly across the pale blue sky, and the air above the dusty plateau shimmered with heat. Not far from the parked Ghost, the quiet buzz of tools, the occasional muffled curse, and bursts of laughter marked the site of a repair session in progress.

“Ezra, go a little easier on that,” Sabine called out with a smirk from where she was working on the magnetic locks near the ramp.

“Yeah, yeah… Sorry,” Ezra muttered back, frowning as he wrestled with a stubborn fuel intake line that refused to budge. “But maybe if this thing actually worked for once, I wouldn’t be here fighting it.”

Sabine rolled her eyes with a smile and looked down to where Nix was kneeling beside the front landing strut, carefully rewiring a mess of bundled cables.

“Hey, Nix,” Sabine called down, “can you check the junction box up here?”

Nix glanced up, eyed the distance with suspicion, and raised an eyebrow. “Sabine, I’m not a spider,” she said with mock despair. “I can’t reach that far.”

Ezra grinned. “You know, I never realized how small you actually are.”

“Small?” Nix stood and turned toward him, wearing a look of deep offense. “I am not small. You two are just oversized mutants.”

Sabine snorted and nodded toward Ezra. “Next infiltration mission, we’ll just stuff you in Ezra’s pocket.”

Nix rolled her eyes but cracked a smile. “At least I can see in the dark. Unlike you two.”

Ezra tilted his head, intrigued. “Wait. You can see in the dark?”

“You never noticed I don’t use a light at night?” Nix replied, going back to her work. “Well… not total darkness. Just when there’s heat around.”

“Like infrared?” Sabine asked, curious.

“Sort of,” Nix paused, thinking. “For you it’d be like seeing slightly extended colors.”

“Hey, everyone,” came a calm voice from the Ghost’s back ramp.

All three of them looked up as Kanan approached, his expression serious but not unfriendly.

“Nix, I need a word with you,” he said, tilting his head slightly away from the ship.

Nix hesitated. “With me?”

“Yes, with you,” Kanan replied simply. “It’s important.”

Ezra and Sabine gave her encouraging glances. Nix wiped her hands on her pants, grabbed her jacket off the ground, and followed after him. Something uneasy began to twist in her stomach.

The sun was already beginning to dip. A cool breeze crept into the air, teasing the edge of evening. Kanan walked beside her in silence, face calm but unreadable. The quiet between them was palpable, and after a few steps, Nix finally broke it.

“So… what’s this about?” she asked softly, trying to sound more composed than she felt.

Kanan paused, as if weighing his words. “I spoke with Bendu,” he said seriously. “He told me he still senses… tension between us.”

Nix nodded faintly, eyes on the ground. “Yeah. I think everyone’s noticed.”

Kanan didn’t respond immediately. “He suggested he could help us find some kind of understanding. Through a ritual.”

“A ritual?” Nix frowned. “What kind of ritual?”

“I don’t know,” Kanan admitted, letting out a quiet chuckle. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that Bendu has his own ways. He said we should… connect through the Force. Let it show us what shaped each other.”

Nix slowed a bit. “And you agreed to that?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Kanan said with a sigh. “But honestly, it might be the only way we get past this. I think we owe it to each other. And to Ezra.”

At Ezra’s name, Nix tensed slightly. “What do you mean?”

Kanan stopped and turned to face her. “Look, I still don’t fully trust you. But you spend a lot of time with him. I believe you care about him. And that… is probably the one thing we have in common.”

Nix sighed and bit her lip. “You know, maybe if you stopped looking at me like I’m a ticking time bomb…”

“I never saw you exactly like that,” Kanan said, a little hesitantly. “But I’ll admit, your past does raise some red flags for me. Maybe it’s time to change that… but I don’t know how.”

“So you think this… ritual might help?” Nix asked, her voice cautious but a little more open.

“I’m not sure,” Kanan said with a shrug. “I don’t really know your past. And what I was taught about Sith… it was all from the temple archives when I was a youngling. Bendu said this would help me see more than just the Sith in you.”

Nix huffed a breath. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just… talk? Tell a few life stories, get to know each other like normal people?”

Kanan smiled faintly. “I get where you’re coming from. But Bendu said this way, we’d let the Force decide what we need to see. Still… if you don’t want to—”

“No, no,” Nix cut in, pausing before finally nodding. “I’ll do it.”

“Alright,” Kanan said calmly, giving her a small nod in return. “Then let’s go.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence until they reached a simple shelter, half-covered by rock and scrub. An old speeder waited in its shadow, weathered but reliable. Kanan motioned for her to take the driver’s seat and climbed in behind her.

The engine purred to life, and with a gust of dust, they lifted off, leaving the camp and its warm banter behind.

The ride to Bendu’s meeting place was long and quiet. Both Nix and Kanan were lost in their own thoughts. Each aware of the other’s presence, trying not to let it distract them, but failing to ignore it completely. As they approached the rocky outcrop where Bendu usually made himself known, Nix slowed the speeder and brought it to a gentle stop.

Kanan was the first to jump down. He took a few steps forward and called out into the open, “Bendu, are you here?”

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, the ground beneath them gave a soft tremble as an enormous, shadowy shape began to materialize from the stone itself.

“Ah... Kanan Jarrus. And Nixelle, child of both darkness and light,” Bendu’s deep voice rumbled through the air. “I see you’ve accepted my offer.”

Nix tensed slightly, but Kanan remained still and composed beside her. Bendu’s voice remained calm but serious.

“Today, you will be given a chance to see truth through the Force. Truth about one another. Are you prepared to walk this path and finally understand what keeps you apart?”

Kanan was silent for a beat before answering, voice steady. “I’m ready.”

Bendu turned his massive gaze to Nix. She hesitated for a moment… then gave a nod. “So am I.”

“Good,” Bendu said with a slow nod, his glowing eyes flickering faintly. “Prepare yourselves.”

He bowed his head slightly, and his voice dropped to a soothing echo that rolled across the quiet plain.

“Kneel. Across from one another. Relax your bodies, open your minds. Let the Force show you what must be seen.”

Nix glanced once at Kanan, then slowly sank to her knees opposite him. He mirrored her movement, settling into the sand with practiced calm. The silence around them thickened. Less like the absence of sound, and more like the presence of something waiting.

Then something shifted.

Nix opened her eyes… and everything changed.

A wave of serenity washed over her, grounding and oddly comforting. Her senses felt sharper, more vivid. She didn’t feel like herself anymore. Not completely. The world around her was brighter, lighter, clearer. She looked down at her hands: small, delicate fingers, a little unsure.

When she looked up, she found herself standing beneath the sweeping arches of a vast, sunlit hall.

The Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

Golden light streamed through immense stained-glass windows, scattering colors across the marble floors. Ornate columns lined the open space, and the entire chamber radiated a sense of peace and purpose. Jedi of all species moved gracefully through the halls. Some were teachers. Some were Knights. And among them, a small boy clutched at the hem of an oversized tunic.

Caleb Dume.

He stood near the center of the room, trying to mask his nervousness behind a stiff posture and quiet breath. He was waiting. Today, a Jedi Master would come to choose their Padawan from the gathered younglings. Several had already been selected, walking off with kind smiles and words of encouragement. But Caleb remained.

A voice spoke gently beside him. “Breathe, young one.”

Caleb turned to see an older Jedi with kind eyes and a soft smile.

He gave a small nod, though the knot in his chest remained tight.

The murmur in the room changed subtly. A ripple of attention moved through the crowd, and Caleb looked up.

Through the grand entrance stepped a tall woman with a composed, regal presence. Master Depa Billaba. Her dark hair was tied into a tight, elegant style. Her expression was calm, but her very presence seemed to steady the air around her.

She moved slowly, thoughtfully, her eyes sweeping across the line of younglings… until they landed on him. Caleb’s breath caught. Her gaze held his like a lifeline in a storm.

She stepped forward, then knelt before him so they were eye level.

“What’s your name?” she asked, her voice soft but clear.

“Caleb… Caleb Dume,” he answered quietly, his heart hammering.

Depa studied him for a long moment. It felt… understanding. As if she was listening to something only she could hear. Then her expression softened, and something warm flickered in her eyes.

“There’s courage in you, Caleb. But also doubt. And many questions,” she said gently. “And I will help you find the answers.”

Caleb swallowed hard, then nodded quickly. “Yes, Master.”

She rose and placed a steady hand on his shoulder, guiding him forward. As they walked, he glanced back just once, eyes finding the faces of his friends. But inside, something new was growing—hope, resolve, and trust.

He had been chosen.

He was going to be Padawan to Master Depa Billaba. His future was no longer a question mark. It had begun.

The memory shifted.

The warm light of the Temple dissolved into the cold gray haze of a battlefield on Kaller. Caleb’s senses snapped into high alert—adrenaline surged, the acrid sting of smoke burned his nose, and the air rang with the tension of imminent violence.

Around him stood several clone troopers, strange yet familiar, deployed to assist in the fight against Separatist forces.

Then a comm buzzed from the hololink. The silence that followed was brief… but to Caleb, it stretched into forever.

“Execute Order 66.”

The world changed in a heartbeat.

The clone troopers surrounding Master Depa Billaba turned as one, rifles lifting. Caleb’s heart skipped a beat, his breath caught. His legs locked beneath him. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Master!” he shouted, panic tightening his voice.

Depa reacted instantly. Her lightsaber ignited in a flash of blue, moving with elegance and desperation as she blocked the sudden torrent of blaster fire from the very soldiers they had once trusted. Caleb wanted to help but his body was paralyzed by terror.

“You must run!” she yelled, her voice filled with an urgency Caleb had never heard before. Her eyes met his for a single, agonizing moment. There was no time to speak. Only the unspoken plea in her gaze.

“Run, Caleb!” she yelled again, her voice faltering now with exhaustion and pain as the storm closed in around her.

And Caleb ran. Blaster bolts screamed past his ears. Hot tears of helplessness blurred his vision. He tripped, fell, scrambled back to his feet. He ran. He ran from the moment everything fell apart.

He looked back once, just in time to see Depa fall. Her lightsaber flickered and died, and the light in her eyes went with it. A part of him died in that moment, too. He was alone, suffocated by guilt and grief so raw it stole the breath from his lungs.

The memory dissolved into mist, but its weight lingered.

Darkness swirled around him, shaping itself into shadows and broken echoes… and then, slowly, it reformed.

Nix now found herself back in Kanan’s mind.

Caleb was crouched in a freezing alley on a nameless world, hidden beneath the cover of refuse and rust. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. His eyes were sunken and dry, as if no tears remained. Every footstep that passed nearby made him flinch. The fear was deep. Icy. Bone-deep.

A squad of Imperial soldiers passed close by, boots marching in rhythm. Caleb held his breath, clutched the worn satchel tight against his chest. Inside was the last remnant of his old life. He couldn’t be Caleb Dume anymore.

That was the moment he knew something had to change. He couldn’t survive like this. Not as he was.

Memories flickered—layered, fragmented. A false name. A fabricated life.

Kanan Jarrus.

Born of desperation, forged to survive. It wasn’t just a disguise. It was a wall. A wound. And Nix could feel it. She could feel him cutting himself off from who he had been.

The scene shifted again.Kanan was walking down a shadowed alley on the planet Gorse when he heard it. Her voice. It pulled him in like a magnet.

Everything happened fast. Blaster fire, gang members shouting, and a woman cloaked in black. Kanan didn’t have time to think. He threw himself into the fight, his body reacting on instinct, old training stirring back to life. Scaffolding collapsed, screams blurred into chaos, and glass shattered around them as they made their escape.

When it was over, he stood alone in the wreckage, clutching only her cloak. For a moment, he thought he’d imagined her. But then he turned and there she was.

It was the first time he really saw her: green skin, striking eyes, and a smile that held both amusement and curiosity.

“Good thing I was here to save you,” she said lightly, with a spark of humor.

“Save me?” he replied, caught off guard by his own hesitation. “You had a whole gang after you!”

“I’d paid them to do a job for me,” the Twi’lek said, brushing mud from her gloves. “There was a minor pricing dispute. I could have handled it... So... you just randomly go around sticking your neck out for people?”

“No! I mean... almost never!” Kanan stammered. “Wait a minute. You needed them to do a job? For you?”

She nodded, amused. “And now it’s done” She turned to leave.

“I do jobs,” Kanan offered quickly, suddenly unwilling to let her go. “You need something done...”

“No thank you,” she said with a smile, still walking. “I have stops to make.”

“Wait! What’s your name?”

There was a pause. Then her voice drifted back, sweet and distant like a dream.

“Hera.”

The memory shifted once again. This time to the interior of the Ghost. It was different here. Cleaner. Safer. But above all… alive.

Kanan stood in the cockpit beside Hera, the soft glow of the console lights casting warm reflections across her face.

“You’re nervous,” Hera said quietly, not taking her eyes off the controls.

“Why would I be?” Kanan replied with a faint smile but the uncertainty in his voice gave him away.

“Because you’re still trying to hide something.” She turned to face him, her gaze calm and unwavering. “But you don’t have to do that. Not here.”

Her words struck like lightning. They were gentle, but impossible to ignore. He felt something stir inside him. Something deeper than trust. Something that frightened him… and thrilled him.

Hera placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’re a team. Whatever comes, we face it together.”

Kanan nodded slowly, heart pounding. For the first time, he didn’t feel like he had to keep running.

Another memory bled into view, clearer than all the rest. Lothal.

Kanan stood facing a much younger Ezra. The boy’s eyes burned with defiance… and pain. A pain Kanan recognized all too well.

He was deciding. Deciding whether to let this kid in. Whether to gamble again with fate, to reopen old wounds and step into a role he’d spent years avoiding.

“What’s the Force?” Ezra asked.

“The Force is everywhere,” Kanan answered calmly. “It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together.” He paused. “And it’s strong with you, Ezra. Otherwise, you’d have been able to open the holocron.”

Ezra frowned. “So what do you want?”

“To offer you a choice.” Kanan hesitated for just a breath. “You can keep that lightsaber you stole. Let it become just another dusty souvenir… or give it back and come with us, come with me. And be trained in the ways of the Force. You can learn what it truly means to be a Jedi.”

“I thought the Empire wiped out all the Jedi,” Ezra said skeptically.

Kanan swallowed. “Not all of us.”

In that moment, Nix felt the full weight of Kanan’s heart. The fierce mixture of pride and fear that swelled every time he trained Ezra. How desperately he wanted to protect him, to guide him, to give him the kind of foundation he himself had lost. How terrified he was that he’d fail. That he’d let Ezra down the way he once let down his own master.

It wasn’t just memory. It was raw emotion. Love. Regret. Hope. Painfully honest.

This was Kanan at his most vulnerable… and his most true. A protector. A teacher. A Jedi.

The memories began to fade, retreating like the tide. And Nix felt herself again—fully herself—but the weight of what she’d just seen still pressed against her chest like a stone.

For the first time, she truly understood him. His pain. His fear. His strength. A man desperately trying to walk the right path… even when the whole galaxy seemed intent on pulling him off it.

The world around Kanan shifted, melting into fog and color before reforming into a new scene.

Suddenly, he was seeing through the eyes of a child. It felt strange. Little Nix’s heart pounded as her mother dragged her briskly through the long corridors of a grand estate, its halls echoing with the cold luxury of an old Arkanian bloodline. Her mother’s grip on her wrist was so tight it hurt, but Nix didn’t dare protest.

At last, her mother came to a stop in front of a set of tall, ornate doors etched with ancient designs. Without hesitation, she flung them open and shoved the girl inside.

The office beyond was vast, polished, and imposing. Standing within it were three Jedi: masters of the Order who had come to Arkania in search of Force-sensitive children. They all turned as the girl entered. Their expressions were calm, kind even… but also curious.

“Here she is,” her mother said sharply, her voice like a blade. “She can use the Force. Take her.”

One of the Jedi, an older woman with a gentle smile, stepped forward and knelt to meet Nix’s eyes.

“Don’t be afraid, little one,” she said softly. “What’s your name?”

“I…” The girl’s voice trembled. She sensed something comforting in the Jedi but also uncertainty. She didn’t know if she could trust them. She didn’t know what to say. She turned, helpless, toward her mother.

“She doesn’t have a name,” her mother said coldly, the disgust in her voice impossible to miss. “I’m not naming a half-breed.”

“I understand,” the Jedi Master said quietly, glancing back at the others. They simply exchanged muted looks and gave small nods.

“Could you show us something?” asked the second Jedi. It was a man with skin a shade Nix had never seen before. He gestured to a small metallic cup on the desk. “Try to lift that, please.”

Nix hesitated for a moment, then obediently reached out. At first, the cup only trembled… but then it rose into the air, wobbling gently above the polished surface.

The Jedi shared a glance. They looked pleased.

But then Nix felt a sharp wave of anxiety crash over her as her mother’s stare was burning into her.

The cup jolted upward suddenly, spiraled out of control, and shattered against the ceiling with a loud crash. Silence fell.

After a long moment, the woman Jedi spoke again, her voice still soft. “We just want to ask you a few questions, alright?”

Nix nodded nervously, her eyes starting to fill with tears. The questions kept coming—gentle, but relentless. No one had ever spoken to her this long. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but it felt like hours.

“The Force is strong in you, little one,” said the third Jedi, speaking slowly and thoughtfully. “But we also sense deep fear… too much uncertainty. You are not suitable for Jedi training.”

“Not suitable?” her mother scoffed. Her voice was icy, laced with mockery. “Her father was a Jedi. I thought you’d be eager to take her! I can’t keep her here. Do you understand the scandal if anyone finds out about her?”

The Jedi exchanged quiet glances. The older man finally spoke, calm and unwavering.

“The Jedi path requires clarity of mind… Peace she does not have. She’s too unstable. We’re sorry. But we cannot accept her into the Order.”

Her mother seized Nix by the shoulder so suddenly the girl nearly lost her footing.

“We’re leaving,” she hissed, dragging Nix back toward the door.

Nix looked back one last time. The Jedi remained where they stood, their faces filled with sorrow and sympathy.

But none of them said a word. None of them stopped her.

Tears burned in her eyes as her mother led her out of the room, whispering words that would scar deeper than any wound. “Useless. Absolutely worthless.”

The memory shifted once more.

The cold air of Arkania faded, replaced by the dim, oppressive atmosphere of a rundown space station. The metal walls around them were dull and rusted, barely lit by flickering overhead lights. The smell of oil and ozone lingered in the stale air.

Kanan felt Nix trembling—not from cold, but from fear.

Her mother held her tightly by the wrist, leading her down a narrow corridor where the shadows felt alive, watching. They stopped at a small landing pad where a group of ragged men were waiting. One of them stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Nix with a look that made her stomach twist.

“Here,” her mother said flatly, shoving the girl forward without a trace of emotion. “Just take her off my hands.”

Nix turned back toward her, tears already spilling down her cheeks. “Mom, please…”

But her mother didn’t even look at her. She turned and walked away without a word.

Nix stood frozen, too afraid to move. The man stepped closer, his grin sharp and predatory.

“Well, well… what have we here?” he hissed. “Don’t worry, little one. We’ll take real good care of you.”

Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might break free of her chest. Fear surged through her, deeper than anything she had ever known… so deep it cracked something open inside her. A wave of raw, untamed Force exploded outward.

Lightning arced through the air. The entire station shuddered. Lights sputtered and died.

When they flickered back on, Nix was on her knees, sobbing. Around her, the men lay motionless—smoke rising from their twitching bodies. The corridor was eerily quiet. Her mother was gone, swallowed by the shadows.

“M-Mom?” she called out weakly.

But only footsteps answered. She shrank into herself, bracing for more pain but what appeared before her wasn’t another threat.

A tall man stepped into view: skin dark red, eyes glowing orange. His presence was commanding, but not cruel. His expression was serious, but not harsh.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said. His voice was deep, but calm. “I’m not going to hurt you. What happened here? Where are your parents?”

Nix said nothing. She just shook her head, lips trembling too much to speak.

He crouched down in front of her, watching her quietly. “What’s your name?”

She shook her head again. The tears came faster now. Why wasn’t he angry? Why didn’t he look at her like she was broken?

He nodded slightly, as if understanding more than she’d said. “No name, huh?” His voice was gentle now, almost sorrowful. “Everyone deserves a name. Would you like one?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Nix gave a small, uncertain nod.

The man thought for a moment, then smiled just a little. “Nixelle,” he said softly. “I think it suits you. But if you like, you can just go by Nix.”

For the first time, the girl looked him in the eyes. There was a glimmer of something there… something fragile, but alive. Hope.

Carefully, the man reached out his hand. “Would you like to come with me? I can teach you how to control the power you carry inside.”

She hesitated for a moment. Then slowly and nervously she took his hand. And in that moment, she felt something strange… and safe.

She didn’t know who this man truly was, or what it all meant but for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel alone.

The man helped her to her feet. His expression was thoughtful, and there was a flicker of something protective behind his sharp gaze.

“I’m Darth Elkazar,” he said. “From now on, you’re under my protection.”

And Nix—who finally had a name—knew that nothing in her life would ever be the same.

Then the memory shifted again. Kanan now found himself in a place that radiated shadow and silence.

The Sith Academy on Korriban.

Stone walls loomed on every side, the air thick with ancient whispers and cold darkness. Nix—older now, but still a child—walked in a line of acolytes. Her face was set and serious, but her eyes stayed wary, watchful.

Beside her walked a young Zabrak boy, his head crowned with sharp horns and patterned with crude tattoos. He glanced at her, then smirked.

“If the Overseer sends us into that temple again today, I swear he’s trying to kill us.”

“If you die before me, Riisha,” Nix muttered, a smirk tugging at her lips, “I’m going to be very annoyed. Don’t leave me alone in there.”

“Relax, Nixie,” he whispered, nudging her shoulder playfully. “I’ve got your back, tiny.”

“I’m not tiny,” she growled back but there was laughter hiding in her voice.

It was a rare moment. A fragile spark of joy in the middle of the cold, merciless walls of the Sith Academy. For the first time, she had something that felt like… a friend.

The next memory was sharper. More serious. Nix stood in a circular chamber across from Darth Elkazar, her eyes shut tight in concentration, her face tense with effort.

“Don’t focus only on anger,” Elkazar said calmly, his voice low and steady. “Anger is strong, but the Force is much more than just one emotion.”

“I’m trying,” Nix whispered, her brow furrowed in frustration.

“I know,” he replied, his tone softening. “I believe in you.”

Those words stirred something in her—a trust she hadn’t known until then. Elkazar wasn’t just her master. He was the first person who had ever truly believed in her.

The scene shifted again. Nix now stood opposite him in the center of the room. His gaze was intense.

“If someone controls your mind, they’ll take everything. Your memories, your identity, your freedom,” he said. “You have to be strong.”

“I can do it,” she breathed, voice unsteady.

“I know you can. Now prepare yourself.”

His tone grew firmer as she felt his presence pressing into her mind. Slow at first, then growing sharper, more invasive. The pain was intense. Nix clenched her fists as her entire body trembled, fighting to hold her thoughts together.

“You’re doing well,” Elkazar’s voice rang out, steady but unyielding. “You have to be stronger. For yourself… and for the people you care about. You need to resist not just mind reading but every method they’ll use to break you.”

Another memory took hold. A dimly lit chamber, small and silent. Nix knelt on the cold floor, holding a blue kyber crystal in her hands. She was trying to bond with it through her pain, her sorrow, her fear. Every emotion, every scar, every memory poured into the crystal as she reached for the Force. Elkazar stood nearby, watching her in silence, his expression grave.

Then it came… the voice. Her mother’s voice. “You’re worthless.”

Nix’s focus shattered. She flinched. Tried to push the memory away but it was too late. Her emotions surged out of control, the Force inside her spiraling wildly. The crystal pulsed, then cracked with a sharp, blinding flash. The energy burst flung her backward.

She hit the ground hard, gasping. She opened her eyes through the haze of pain and tears and saw the crystal fractured in her palms. It wasn’t red. Instead, it shimmered with broken veins of blue, crimson, and violet. A failed bleed.

She felt humiliated. Broken. But then Elkazar knelt beside her, reaching out his hand.

“You haven’t failed me,” he said gently. “This isn’t the end.”

There was no disappointment in his voice. No anger. Only calm support.

The memory shifted again. Nix stood at the main viewport of Elkazar’s command ship, staring out into the dark expanse of space. Beyond the thick transparisteel, the Eternal Fleet stretched out before her. An endless swarm of ancient, deadly warships, aligned in perfect formation. They moved like a single living entity, a hive of coordinated death.

Nix’s breath caught in her throat. She watched in awe and fear as one of the largest ships—Darth Marr’s flagship—erupted in a massive fireball. The blast lit her face, her wide eyes reflecting the chaos.

“There’s no way we can win this,” she whispered.

Elkazar stepped beside her and rested a steady hand on her shoulder.

“It’s not over,” he said. “As long as we live, there’s hope.”

And with those words, some part of her steadied. She wasn’t alone.

The vision blurred once more. Kanan now stood inside a small cabin aboard Elkazar’s ship. The room was dim, lit only by the soft, red glow of a Sith holocron hovering before Nix. Her face was pale with exhaustion, her eyes heavy with sleepless hours. The holocron whispered, tempting.

“The Force is not about balance. The Force is about victory. Do you want to protect the ones you care about? Then embrace your power...”

Nix hesitated. The voice was alluring, promising power she longed for. And yet, somewhere deep inside, something pushed back. She wanted to protect, not destroy but still, the temptation lingered.

Another scene flashed by. The training ground.

Nix stood at its center, energy radiating off her in waves. She wanted to prove herself—not weak, not broken. She was drawing from the holocron’s knowledge, using it to fuel her power. Her eyes burned with defiance.

The Force surged around her—wild, unstable. Stones cracked, dust swirled into the air, the ground itself trembled. She had never felt power like this. But it was too much. It was slipping out of her control.

And then Elkazar intervened. Without hesitation, he raised his hand and flung her aside, breaking her concentration and halting the storm of energy.

“Don’t ever do that again!” he snapped, his voice cutting through the chaos.

“I can handle it!” Nix screamed back, fury and desperation in her voice. “I’m not weak!”

Elkazar approached, calm but firm. “You’re meant to control the dark side! Not give in to it. Let it consume you, and you’ll burn yourself alive. I won’t let that happen.”

Her defiance faltered. She looked into his eyes and saw it. Not disappointment. Not anger. But fear. For her. And something deeper still: care.

The memory softened. Colors warmed, shadows faded. Kanan found himself surrounded by the gentle hush of night on Atollon. The air smelled of dust and distant wind, and the stars shimmered high above the silent base.

Nix sat on a low rock, not far from the base, her eyes lifted to the sky. Ezra sat beside her, talking softly.

“You know,” Ezra said thoughtfully, “sometimes I wonder what it would be like… if life were normal.”

Nix turned to look at him, curious. “And what do you call normal?”

Ezra smiled, just a little. “You know. No Empire. No constant fighting. Just… living.”

Nix hesitated, then nodded. “I don’t know what life without fighting feels like. But…” She trailed off. Her voice was uncertain, as if the words surprised even her. “When I’m with you… it’s easier to forget everything else. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

Ezra looked at her, caught off guard but his gaze softened. “Really?”

She looked away quickly, her face burning. She cleared her throat. “Yeah. Maybe… I guess.”

Silence settled between them. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full of something unspoken. Something both of them felt, but neither of them could name.

And Kanan could feel what Nix had felt in that moment. It was something new to her: foreign, uncertain, a little terrifying. But also… deeply comforting.

The vision finally faded. The hush of the night returned. Slowly, the sounds of Atollon’s nature crept back in around them.

Neither Kanan nor Nix spoke at first. It was as if they feared breaking the fragile understanding that had taken root between them.

Then Nix exhaled. “That was… weird,” she said quietly, her voice tired. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Kanan nodded slowly, still turning over everything he had seen and everything he had felt. “Maybe that’s the point. Maybe it was never about saying anything. Just seeing.”

“Yeah…” Nix looked up at the sky, now glittering with starlight. “We don’t have to talk about it… do we?”

“Maybe we don’t need to,” Kanan said with a faint smile.

They stood in silence a moment longer. And for the first time, the quiet between them didn’t carry tension or doubt. There was peace there. Not trust, not yet. But something that could grow into it.

“You think Bendu wanted to show us something specific?” Nix asked as they started walking slowly back toward the speeder.

“Maybe he just wanted us to realize what the biggest obstacle truly was,” Kanan replied. “It was us.”

Nix let out a soft laugh. Her voice was lighter now. “Well… did it help?”

Kanan considered that. Then he nodded. “I really hope so.”

When they reached the speeder, its engine softly humming in the dark, they didn’t speak again right away. But the silence between them had changed. It wasn’t distance anymore.

Not a destination. But another step.

Chapter Text

Nix opened her eyes and realized she was home. But not on Atollon. She was back in her old quarters aboard Elkazar’s ship. She could feel the soft rug beneath her feet, the deep red fabric welcoming her like an old memory. Slowly, she stood up and looked around. Everything was so vivid, so real. The books on the shelves. The collection of ancient artifacts. The dark-glass display case with her two lightsabers behind it. Everything was exactly as she remembered.

Then the door opened.

Elkazar stepped inside with calm, measured strides. He looked just as he did in her most cherished memories. Tall, composed, with deep red skin and bright orange eyes that radiated a quiet strength and unexpected kindness. His dark hair was slicked back, and his black robes flowed behind him like liquid shadow.

“Master?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “No… this isn’t real, is it?”

Elkazar smiled faintly. He walked up to her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Everything’s going to be alright. No one will ever hurt you again.”

The words hit her with both warmth and a sharp pang of pain. She had heard this before. She had felt this before. Her master was gone—she knew that—and yet here he was, standing in a memory echoing something long lost.

She stepped back. His hands fell to his sides, and her eyes filled with hurt.

“No… this isn’t real,” she said, almost desperate. “This is just another dream. Isn’t it?”

Elkazar’s expression changed. His gaze darkened, and the soft smile twisted into something cold. Mocking. Something that didn’t belong on his face. Suddenly, she realized the eyes staring back at her weren’t his at all. They belonged to someone else entirely.

“Oh, of course,” she snapped. “Can’t you just show up for once without playing your little games?”

In an instant, the world collapsed into blackness. Elkazar vanished, and with him, the fragile illusion of safety. Nix stood alone, surrounded by an endless void.

“I’m only trying to show you the truth,” came Valkorion’s smooth, icy calm voice echoing from everywhere at once. “Your master promised you protection, and instead, he left you in darkness. Forgotten. Abandoned.”

Nix clenched her fists. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Valkorion’s tone turned almost amused. “So many have betrayed you. Your mother. The Jedi. That little Academy friend of yours. Even your master. Why do you still believe in them?”

“What do you want from me?” she asked, her voice shaking. “Why do you keep following me?”

“I’m not following you,” Valkorion said quietly, as though he were right beside her. “I’m helping you open your eyes. To see reality for what it truly is.”

“What reality?” she spat. “This is just another one of your games.”

His voice softened into something nearly tender. “The games, Nixelle, are the ones you play with yourself. The answer to why your master betrayed you, why he sealed you away in carbonite, lies within you. But be warned, little Sith. The truth is rarely kind.”

“My master didn’t betray me!” she shouted, though the uncertainty in her voice betrayed her. “He would never do that!”

For a moment, Valkorion said nothing.

Then, with chilling clarity, he appeared before her. A tall, regal figure clad in a flowing white cloak embroidered with golden trim. His white hair was swept back immaculately, and his bright yellow eyes locked onto hers with ruthless precision.

“Your master had a reason to hide you from the galaxy, Nixelle,” he said, his voice quiet… almost compassionate. “And that reason… was himself.”

Nix opened her mouth to respond but Valkorion raised a hand.

And the world around her exploded into blinding light.

Nix jolted awake, her heart pounding violently, her breath caught in her throat. For a few seconds, she just sat there on the bed with her eyes wide open, trying to make sense of the dimly lit room around her. Slowly, the haze began to clear. She was back on Chopper’s base. The voices, the faces, the unbearable weight of that dream… they were gone. At least for now.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It took several long moments for her heart to slow down, for the sense of panic to settle. But Valkorion’s words still echoed in her mind.

With a sigh, she got up and walked over to the small window. Outside, the sun was just beginning to rise, painting the sky in soft hues of orange and pink. It was early. Too early. Most of the base would still be asleep, but she already knew there was no chance she’d get back to sleep.

There was a strange peace in wandering the quiet hallways. She listened to her own footsteps, her own breathing, forcing herself to focus on the present instead of the ghosts that clung to her memory. Before she realized it, her feet had carried her outside, toward the empty tables where the crew usually gathered during meals.

That’s when her gaze landed on an old hallikset, leaning against one of the tables, left there by someone who’d probably forgotten it. She glanced around, half-expecting someone to appear, but the yard was deserted.

Carefully, she picked it up. Her fingers brushed the strings, coaxing a soft, familiar hum. A quiet smile tugged at her lips as she closed her eyes, letting her mind drift back to distant memories of being a young acolyte, of Riisha laughing as he clumsily tried to teach her chords.

Within moments, her fingers were moving with more confidence. Notes flowed. Her voice followed, low and steady, carrying a melody she hadn’t sung in years.

“I woke up, it was seven… I waited till eleven…” she sang softly, eyes focused on the strings dancing beneath her fingertips. “Just to figure out that no one would call…”

She didn’t know how long she’d been playing when a voice broke the stillness, making her jump slightly and silence the instrument.

“You’re not much of a sleeper, huh?”

She looked up, startled, and saw Ezra standing a few steps away, watching her with a gentle smile. Beside him stood Kanan, quiet as ever, arms crossed, the upper half of his face hidden behind his mask.

“How long have you been standing there?” Nix asked, a little flustered. She set the hallikset down on the table, trying to act like she wasn’t caught off guard.

“A little while,” Ezra shrugged. “I knew you liked singing, but I didn’t know you could play too.”

Nix gave a small, one-shoulder shrug and a faint smile. “There are a few things you still don’t know about me.”

“Clearly,” Ezra said with a grin.

Kanan let their exchange hang for a moment, then stepped forward. “Nix, can I talk to you for a moment?”

She blinked, surprised, but nodded. “Of course.”

Ezra raised an eyebrow slightly but didn’t argue. He watched them for a second before Kanan turned slightly to him.

“Could you give us a moment, Ezra? It won’t take long.”

Ezra looked like he wanted to ask why, but instead just nodded. “Sure. I’ll be inside if you need me.”

Once he was gone, Kanan’s expression grew more serious. He turned back to Nix, lowering his voice.

“Yesterday, I saw how your master trained you to resist mind probes.”

“Yeah…” Nix stiffened, the memory of that particular lesson still raw. “Where are you going with this?”

“I think Ezra should learn how to defend himself against that kind of attack,” Kanan said calmly, choosing his words carefully. “But I need to know how dangerous or painful the training might be.”

Nix sighed. Her gaze drifted away. “It works by having someone try to push into your thoughts, and you have to find your own way to push back. It’s invasive. It can be… very painful, Kanan.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” he said softly. “Do you think he could handle it?”

Nix hesitated. Flashes of her own training flickered in her mind. What it felt like, how it broke her open before it made her stronger. After a long moment, she nodded slowly.

“He could. But it’s going to hurt, Kanan. This isn’t a meditation technique. It’s brutal.”

Kanan lowered his head for a moment, clearly weighing her words. Then he turned toward the building where Ezra had disappeared, his voice low.

“I have to prepare him. I can’t let him be defenseless… not if he ever ends up in the same position I was in.”

Nix studied him quietly. There was something in his voice. A deep pain, a fierce determination to protect Ezra at any cost. Finally, she nodded, her voice soft.

“Alright. But the decision has to be his.”

“I agree.”

She drew in a deep breath. “Come on. Let’s tell him. Let him choose for himself.”

Kanan nodded, and together they walked toward the door where Ezra was already waiting and watching them both, curiosity written all over his face.

As Kanan and Nix approached, Ezra straightened up, the question already written on his face.

“So?” he asked, uncertain. “Everything okay?”

Kanan nodded. “It is. But there’s something important we need to talk to you about.”

Ezra’s brow rose slightly, and his gaze shifted to Nix, like he was hoping she might explain more.

“Ezra,” Kanan began, steady and calm, “we’ve run into Inquisitors before. You know how dangerous they can be… not just their skill in combat, but their ability to manipulate the mind. I’ve been thinking… it might be time for you to learn how to defend against that.”

Ezra blinked, surprised by the suggestion. His expression grew more serious. “Okay… and how exactly do I learn that? We’ve never trained anything like it.”

Kanan turned toward Nix.

She took a breath and stepped closer. “It’s a technique I had to learn myself,” she said carefully. “The way it works… I try to get into your mind. I’ll try to see memories, thoughts, feelings. And your job will be to find a way to stop me and to block me out or push me away.”

Ezra nodded slowly, though his discomfort was obvious. “That sounds… intense.”

“That’s why we’re asking first,” Nix said seriously. “It won’t be easy. Honestly, it’s not even going to be pleasant. But if you learn how to do it, it could protect you… if someone ever tries it for real.”

Kanan placed a hand gently on Ezra’s shoulder. “It’s your decision. If you’re not ready, or if you’d rather not, no one’s going to force you.”

Ezra was quiet for a moment, turning the idea over in his mind. Then, slowly, his expression settled into something steady. Determined.

“No. You’re right. I need to be able to handle this.”

Nix gave a small, solemn nod. “When you’re ready… we can start now.”

Ezra took a breath. Deep. Grounding. Then nodded with a confidence that seemed to surprise even him. “I’m ready. Let’s do it.”

Kanan and Ezra led Nix to a quiet section of the base, one of the elevated spots they often used for training. It was peaceful there, offering a clear view of the surrounding landscape. The morning sun had already climbed high, casting everything in a warm, golden light.

When they reached the spot, Nix paused. She turned slightly toward Kanan, hesitating for just a second before speaking, her voice low and cautious.

“Are you both really sure you want to do this like that?” she asked quietly. “There’s a chance I’ll see something… things you’d rather keep hidden.”

Kanan nodded once. His face was calm, but she could sense the quiet tension underneath. “I think after yesterday, you’ve seen enough. Ezra needs to be ready. I trust you enough to let you do this.”

Nix took a breath and gave a small nod. It wasn’t perfect reassurance, but it was enough. She turned to Ezra. The young Jedi stood tall, but she could see a flicker of nerves in his eyes.

“You still sure about this?” she asked gently, offering a small, encouraging smile.

“Don’t worry. I’m ready,” Ezra said with determination, though his voice betrayed a hint of doubt.

“Alright,” Nix said. “Let’s go over a few things before we start.”

Ezra nodded and sat down on the ground. Nix followed, settling across from him, taking a moment to focus her thoughts before she continued.

“First, try to relax. Focus on your breath. This won’t be like regular meditation. You’ll feel me inside your mind.” She paused, then added, “The best way to resist is to concentrate on something specific… something that grounds you. Something that gives you strength or peace, or anything to distract me. It’s a battle of will.”

Ezra closed his eyes briefly, then took a slow breath. “Got it. Something specific.”

“Exactly,” Nix nodded. “I’ll start slow, carefully. But still… be ready. It’s going to feel a little strange.”

Ezra nodded again, more confidently this time. “I’m ready.”

Nix glanced over at Kanan. She didn’t need to say anything. The look they exchanged said enough. Mutual respect, and the faint traces of distrust that would take time to fully heal.

Then she turned her attention back to Ezra. She reached out slowly, her hand hovering just above his forehead.

“Close your eyes. Stay calm. I’ll be careful.”

Ezra obeyed, his eyes drifting shut. Nix followed suit a heartbeat later. She took a deep breath and focused.

The connection came gently at first. A light touch, like strands of thought brushing together. Ezra felt it immediately, a soft pressure that began to grow stronger as Nix moved deeper. At first, she was careful and her presence subtle, like she was trying to soothe him, not frighten him.

Then the wave hit.

A sudden flood of memory and emotion crashed into Ezra like a tidal wave. His face twisted with pain, his muscles tensed, and his whole body went rigid as he instinctively tried to resist the intrusion.

The first memory was sharp and vivid: his mother’s face, warm and smiling, leaning over him. Nix felt the force of it like a blow to the chest, the way he clung to that memory, how desperately he wanted to protect it.

Then came the screams. Imperial troops marching through the streets of Lothal. Blaster fire. Chaos.

Ezra gasped, and his face contorted further, trying to shut it out.

The next memory was worse. An empty house. Silence. The moment he realized he was alone. The fear. The cold, crushing loneliness. His breathing grew shallow, unsteady, like someone was pressing down on his temples, and the pain was almost unbearable.

Nix felt it all. She hesitated, her instinct telling her to back off… but she pressed forward, slower now, more carefully.

She saw him stealing food, running through narrow alleys with stormtroopers not far behind. Nights spent curled up in dark corners, alone and shivering. The pain. The fight to survive. It hit her harder than she expected.

Then something changed.

Brighter memories began to surface. The Ghost crew. Kanan. Hera. Sabine. Zeb. Nix felt the moment hope returned to him. The moment he realized he wasn’t alone anymore. She saw Kanan training him, guiding his lightsaber stance, steadying his form. The way Ezra looked at him—not just as a teacher, but as something like a father.

Then came Malachor.

The memory hit like a lightning strike. Nix felt it in Ezra’s entire body. The pain, the guilt. Darth Maul. The Sith holocron. Kanan wounded. Ezra’s fear and shame, his desperate wish to undo it.

The memories grew more scattered, rawer. Too much. Nix withdrew, her touch fading as she gently pulled back.

Ezra gasped sharply, eyes flying open, like he’d just surfaced from underwater.

“Ezra!” Nix gasped, leaning toward him with alarm in her voice and worry in her eyes. “I’m sorry… I… Are you okay?”

Ezra nodded faintly, still catching his breath. His gaze was glassy, unfocused, and it took several long seconds before he could manage a reply. “I’m fine… just… that was a lot.”

“Take a moment,” Nix said softly. Her voice was almost apologetic, but Ezra could sense that she was trying to help him ground himself again.

Kanan, who had been quietly observing from a few steps away, finally spoke. “How bad was it?”

Ezra looked up at him, clearly drained. “Bad. Like someone was ripping memories out of my head. I couldn’t stop it.”

Nix nodded, her expression full of empathy. “That’s why I went in gently at first. Inquisitors won’t be gentle. They’ll tear through everything. We can try again… but only if you’re ready. If you need a break, we wait.”

Ezra rubbed his temples and drew a slow breath. Nix could see the hesitation in him, the way he was weighing his limits against his resolve. “I can do it,” he said finally, voice steady though faint. “I want to keep going.”

She glanced at Kanan, who gave her a quiet nod. “If you feel ready, Ezra, we trust you. But don’t push yourself too far.”

Ezra gave a weak smile, corners of his mouth lifting slightly in quiet determination. “I can handle it. Let’s go.”

Nix exhaled and nodded. “Alright. But we go slowly this time. Remember, focus on what holds you together. That’s your anchor.”

Ezra nodded once more, shutting his eyes with intention. Nix hesitated for just a moment longer before slipping back into the Force. Her presence brushed against Ezra’s again but this time, she felt resistance. Not defiance, not fear. Focus. He wasn’t defenseless anymore. Something inside him had started fighting back.

The memories came faster now. The familiar streets of Lothal. The faces of his parents. The Ghost. It was a chaotic flood of emotions and images, but this time, Ezra didn’t just endure it, he tried to redirect it, to ground himself in the people he cared about.

But even as she felt that resistance, Nix began reaching deeper.

She didn’t mean to, not exactly. But something inside her stirred. Something she’d been trying not to think about. Her thoughts, her need—her desperate need for answers—tugged her down toward one memory in particular.

Malachor.

Ezra flinched. She felt it. A jolt of resistance so strong it nearly shoved her out.

But she didn’t stop. She had to see it.

The vision sharpened. Ezra. Sabine. Kanan. Zeb. All of them standing around her, frozen in carbonite. Nix moved through the memory quickly, desperate to find something—anything—that would give her a clue. Her eyes darted to the walls, scanning frantically for inscriptions. She felt Ezra’s pain rising again, the way he tried to push her out, to drive her back… but she couldn’t stop. She was too close.

Then she saw it.

A faint inscription on the stone. A message. Maybe something Elkazar had left. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to read it, to make out the words, but the memory was blurred, fragmented. She pushed harder, digging deeper, ignoring the rising pressure of Ezra’s resistance. She caught part of the phrase but before she could make sense of it—

“Nix, stop!” Kanan’s voice cut through the fog, sharp and commanding. “That’s enough!”

It broke her focus like a snapped cord. Her eyes flew open. Her heart raced. Her hand was still extended toward Ezra, and he sat frozen before her. Pale, shaking, his eyes wide with pain.

“Ezra…” she whispered, her voice raw with guilt. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Ezra didn’t speak at first. He just nodded faintly, his breathing shallow and uneven. “It’s… it’s fine,” he said eventually, but his voice trembled. He wasn’t fine.

“No. It’s not,” Nix said quietly. She was shaken too, her voice tight. “I went too far. I’m sorry.”

Ezra looked at her, still slightly dazed, but there was understanding in his eyes. “Really… it’s okay, Nix. It was just… a lot.”

Kanan, who had been watching them closely, let out a sigh and stepped forward. “Ezra, that’s enough for today. You need a break.”

Ezra nodded again, this time slower. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right.”

Nix stepped back as he rose unsteadily to his feet, her gaze locked on the ground. Guilt churned in her chest, heavy and sharp. She hadn’t meant to push him like that. She just… needed answers. But at what cost?

Ezra moved slowly, and Kanan gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “You did well, Ezra. Go for a walk. Clear your head.”

Ezra nodded again and started toward the base. He paused once, glancing over his shoulder at Nix… but he didn’t say anything.

And then he was gone.

Kanan waited a few moments before turning to Nix. His voice was calm, but the quiet edge in it cut through clearly. “You need to be more careful. I understand you want the truth, but Ezra trusts you. You can’t take advantage of that.”

Nix lifted her head, eyes filled with regret. “I know. I didn’t mean to hurt him, Kanan. I’m sorry. I… I never would.”

He was silent for a second, then sighed softly. “Just… be more careful next time.”

With that, he turned and walked off, leaving her alone in the quiet training ground.

Nix stayed there for a long time, sitting in silence, her eyes distant and unfocused. The guilt sat heavy on her chest… heavier than she wanted to admit. She cared about Ezra. Maybe more than she truly understood. And that’s what made it so much harder to accept that she’d been the one to hurt him.

She stared blankly into the open space in front of her. The breeze whispered through the sand dunes. It should have been peaceful, but all she felt was the echo of what she had just done: overstepping, letting her need for answers push too far. The look in Ezra’s eyes, the pain, the fear… she had caused that.

“Nix?”

The voice behind her made her flinch.

She turned quickly and saw Ezra standing a few steps away. His expression was soft, almost concerned, and his eyes searched her face carefully.

“Ezra…” she said quietly, uncertain. “I thought you went for a walk.”

“I did,” he said, voice hesitant as he stepped a little closer. “But then I figured I should probably come back. You didn’t look okay when I left. How are you holding up?”

She took a shaky breath and looked away. “Me? I should be asking you that. I… I’m so sorry…”

Ezra gave her a small, tired smile and shrugged. “Hey, I get it. I’m not mad.”

“Maybe you should be…” Nix replied bitterly.

Ezra let out a breath and sat down beside her. For a moment he didn’t speak, and when he finally did, his tone was quieter, gentler. “Nix, you don’t have to beat yourself up over this. I trust you. I know you weren’t trying to hurt me. You’re looking for something. I get that. But if you ever need to know something, you can just ask.”

Nix finally looked up at him. There was something so honest in his eyes—so unguarded—that it hit her even harder. “Thanks… I mean it. But I don’t even know if the answers I’m looking for are real. That writing… that memory…”

Ezra tilted his head, thinking. “Do you think it really meant something?”

“Maybe,” she breathed. “But I couldn’t see it clearly. That’s why I kept pushing.”

Ezra nodded slowly. “Well, let’s try something else. Just ask me. Maybe I’ll remember something.”

She hesitated, then spoke cautiously. “There were a few inscriptions… in Sith language. Do you remember any of them?”

Ezra paused, then knelt down in the dust next to her. With a thoughtful frown, he began to draw in the sand with his finger. “I’m not sure, but maybe something like this?”

Nix couldn’t help but smile a little at the crude attempt at Sith runes. “I really hope that’s not what it said.”

“Yeah, well,” Ezra laughed. “Did I mention I don’t speak Sith? What did I even write?”

“Mapolpolopopol,” Nix replied with mock seriousness, her lips twitching into a grin.

They both chuckled, and for a moment, the tension between them eased. But then Nix’s expression faded into something more solemn. Her eyes drifted back toward the horizon.

“I keep wondering why he left me there,” she said quietly. “What did I do that was so bad? Why would he just… get rid of me?”

Ezra gently rested a hand on her shoulder. “He didn’t get rid of you. You don’t know that. Maybe he had another reason. Maybe… he was trying to protect you.”

“I really want to believe that,” she whispered. “But if that’s true… why didn’t he ever come back for me?”

Ezra was silent for a beat. Then, more firmly, he said, “You know what? If it really matters to you, we’ll go back. We’ll find out together.”

Nix blinked in surprise. “Ezra, you have way more important things to deal with. We can’t just drop everything because I need some dumb answers.”

Ezra smiled. “And what if I want to? No one should have to carry something like that alone. If it matters to you, it matters to me. I’ll talk to Hera and Kanan. We’ll figure it out.”

She looked at him for a long moment, eyes wide with emotion, before finally nodding slowly. “Are you sure you’re a Jedi? You really don’t act like one.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ezra said, smirking. “To be fair, I didn’t think Sith were like you either.”

They both smiled, the silence between them turning warm. Familiar. And for just a moment, it felt like they weren’t carrying so much weight.

Aboard the Star Destroyer Chimaera, everything ran with the same cold precision as always. Officers, stormtroopers, and droids moved with practiced efficiency, like parts of a perfectly calibrated machine. Overseeing it all was a man whose piercing red eyes shone like a frozen star in the depths of the galaxy.

Grand Admiral Thrawn sat in his office, a minimalist space that radiated control. Behind his immaculate desk, he studied a small sculpture of unknown origin with his usual intensity. His expression was unreadable, his eyes analyzing every groove and curve as if the artifact itself might whisper forgotten truths.

The soft hiss of the opening door barely drew his gaze upward. He looked up slowly, offering no surprise or emotion as his sharp eyes landed on the figure that entered.

The Twelfth Brother moved across the room with the smooth silence of a shadow. His black uniform hugged his frame, emphasizing a wiry, athletic build. His short-cropped black hair was shaved on one side of his head, revealing a web of cybernetic implants glowing faint red beneath the skin. More thin metallic lines ran down his neck and disappeared beneath his collar, hinting at further modifications. His neatly trimmed beard framed angular features, but his eyes were hidden behind opaque black lenses that reflected the room’s light in a cold gleam.

He stopped at the desk, confident and almost defiant. A subtle, ironic smile tugged at his lips as he spoke. “Grand Admiral Thrawn. Designation: Twelfth Brother. Grand Moff Tarkin sent me to assist with your… anomaly.”

Thrawn studied him in silence. Not a muscle moved. He loathed interference in his operations. Especially from the Inquisitorius, whose agents he considered blunt instruments with little appreciation for strategy.

“I was informed of your arrival,” Thrawn said at last, voice measured. “Curious. I didn’t realize Tarkin believed I required supervision from Force-trained enforcers.”

“I wouldn’t call it supervision,” the Inquisitor replied lightly. “Think of it as… specialized consultation. Assuming you’ll permit it.”

Thrawn placed the artifact gently back on his desk and rose to his full height, his tone cool. “Specialized consultation?” he repeated. “And what exactly can you contribute, aside from your… no doubt intimidating presence?”

The Twelfth Brother smiled again, unaffected. “Analysis. Strategy. Unlike some of the other Inquisitors, I don’t rely solely on brute strength. Every operation I conduct is calculated. I imagine that’s something you’d appreciate.”

A faint shift in Thrawn’s expression—barely perceptible—hinted at amusement. “We shall see.”

He stepped closer, his gaze now razor-sharp. “Listen carefully. The girl you’re looking for is no ordinary target. Her abilities exceed anything you’re likely familiar with.”

“I don’t doubt it,” the Inquisitor said, tapping lightly on the cybernetic interface along his temple. “But unconventional targets are my specialty.”

Thrawn studied him in silent contemplation for a long moment. Then, finally, he spoke again. “Then let me give you this warning: Do not underestimate her. She is more than a complication. She may be the key to something far larger. Something beyond the limits of your current perspective.”

The Twelfth Brother gave a small bow, his confidence undiminished. “If there’s more to see… I’m always eager to expand my perspective.”

Thrawn didn’t respond right away. He turned back to his desk, sat down, and picked up the artifact once more, turning it slowly in his hands.

“I expect regular updates,” he said without looking up. “Prove that your reputation is warranted.”

“Of course,” the Inquisitor replied, already stepping toward the door with that same silent grace.

When the door whispered shut behind him, Thrawn remained still, gaze focused on the object in his hands. He disliked disruptions. He disliked improvisation. Tarkin’s meddling was an inconvenience… but every inconvenience had a solution.

And should this overly confident Inquisitor become one more variable in his design… well, Thrawn already had a plan in place.

After all, in his game, every piece was replaceable. And he intended to win.

Chapter Text

The night was fading, slowly giving way to the faintest hints of morning light, and the sky above Chopper Base turned a muted shade of early dawn.

Nix sat curled up on her bed, back pressed against the cold wall of her small quarters. She hadn’t changed out of the clothes from the night before. Sleep had become something fragile and unpredictable in recent days. Her mind wasn’t just weighed down by memories and questions… It was haunted by dreams. Dreams where Valkorion returned to whisper doubts, where he stalked the edges of her thoughts like a shadow waiting to strike. Each encounter left her more uncertain, like her own mind was playing tricks on her.

But today, she didn’t feel tired. On the contrary, she felt energized. Because today, she might finally get some answers.

She had spent the entire night with her datapad, replaying her own old holo-recordings over and over. Notes, reflections, logs she recorded shortly before her time in carbonite. She had watched them so many times the sound of her own voice felt alien now. Distant. Not quite hers. In every second of footage, she searched for hidden meaning: a hesitation in her tone, a glance in the background, anything that might offer a clue.

The more she searched, the more her hope frayed into frustration. And just as she began to spiral back into that familiar sense of hopelessness… There was a knock. Sharp, sudden, and way too enthusiastic for this early in the morning.

“Nix?” came a voice, bright with excitement. “I have amazing news!”

Ezra.

Nix blinked, startled by the interruption, then stood quickly and crossed to the door. When it slid open, there he was. Ezra, practically beaming with energy, eyes lit up, and wearing that kind of grin that always meant trouble… or an adventure.

“Good morning!” he chirped. “You ready to go?”

“Go…?” Nix echoed, eyebrows drawing together. “Go where?”

“To Malachor!” Ezra declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Nix froze. Her mind spun with questions—all of them loud and urgent—but when she opened her mouth, only one of them came out, strangled and breathless: “Wait… like… right now?”

Ezra saw her expression and dialed back his grin just a notch. “Well, I mean, once you’re ready. But yeah... I was thinking about it all night, about the way you looked yesterday, and I just figured… why wait? I talked to Hera and Kanan. They’re in. Kanan wants to come with us, though.”

She stared at him, stunned. Her eyes shimmered slightly with unspoken emotion. “You… you really set this up?”

Ezra shrugged like it was no big deal. “Of course. I wasn’t gonna let you do this alone.”

“But why?” she asked, her voice quiet and cracked around the edges. “Why are you helping me?”

Ezra’s expression softened, but the warmth didn’t fade. “Because we’re friends,” he said, like it was the simplest truth in the world. “And friends help each other.”

Nix felt something clench in her chest… Tight and sudden. She didn’t know what to say. So she just stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Partly to hide the way her face twisted, and partly because in that moment, she just needed to.

“Thank you,” she whispered against his shoulder.

Ezra hugged her back without hesitation, holding her with the same kind of quiet strength she had only ever known in one other person.

After a long moment, he pulled away gently. “Alright,” he said with a smile. “Get ready. We’ll meet you at the Phantom.”

She nodded, managed a small smile of her own, and watched him turn and walk off down the hall, energy still bouncing in his step.

As the door hissed shut behind him, Nix leaned back against it and allowed herself a rare, fleeting moment of peace.

She suddenly felt like she wasn’t alone. And maybe, even if Malachor held no answers, she’d still found something worth holding on to.

It didn’t take Nix long to gather her things. There wasn’t much to begin with. Everything she needed fit neatly into the side pocket of her belt: her datapad tucked carefully into a small pouch, her headphones, and of course, her lightsaber clipped securely at her hip.

She paused briefly in the doorway of her room, letting her eyes sweep across the space one last time. It wasn’t home. But somehow, it had started to feel like it. More than she wanted to admit.

As she stepped outside, her pace was steady, but her mind was racing. That strange mix of anticipation and dread buzzed in her chest. Part of her was afraid of what she might find on Malachor. And a bigger part was afraid she wouldn’t find anything at all.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice: low, casual, and just slightly amused.

“Well, well… sneaking off again, are you?”

She turned and spotted Zeb leaning casually against the side of a cargo container near the hangar. He wore his usual half-smirk, arms crossed, but there was curiosity in his eyes too.

“I’ll be back,” Nix said with a small smile. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“Wasn’t trying to,” Zeb replied, throwing her a wink. “Just don’t get yourself lost out there.”

Nix shook her head, amused, and continued on toward the hangar, where the Phantom already sat prepped and ready for departure. She could see Ezra and Kanan standing near the ramp, saying their goodbyes to Hera and Sabine. Chopper was there too, hovering nearby and letting out low, impatient chirps.

Ezra spotted her first and waved her over with a grin. “Ready?”

Nix gave a quick nod. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Sabine gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder as she passed. Hera smiled warmly. “Be careful out there, alright? And keep an eye on those two.”

“No worries,” Nix said with a smirk.

Chopper zipped off into his docking bay atop the Phantom, and Ezra and Kanan headed up the ramp. Nix paused for just a moment to look back. She waved once to Hera and Sabine, then turned and stepped aboard.

Ezra slid into the pilot’s seat. Kanan and Nix took the chairs behind him. There was a quiet tension in the air… Not heavy, but filled with unspoken thoughts and expectations. Ezra flipped the switches like he’d done it a thousand times, and the Phantom lifted smoothly from the ground.

The world below grew smaller. Atollon shrank behind them and then disappeared altogether, swallowed by stars as the ship jumped to hyperspace.

The familiar blue streaks of light stretched across the cockpit view, and Nix found herself staring into them for a long moment before finally breaking the silence.

“I still don’t understand why Malachor,” she said quietly. “Why there of all places?”

Ezra turned slightly in his seat. “Didn’t you say it was a Sith world? Maybe your master thought it’d be safe for you there.”

Nix nodded slowly, but her eyes remained distant. “It was a Sith world, yeah. But Malachor was destroyed centuries before I was even born. I’ve never been there… Not once. Back then, it was already a dead world… I know the story too well… Final phase of the Mandalorian Wars, General Revan leading Republic forces, and the use of the Mass Shadow Generator. It turned Malachor into a graveyard.”

Ezra’s eyes widened with interest. “Mass Shadow Generator? Kanan, you think that’s the weapon Maul activated when we were there the first time?”

“What?” Nix’s head shot up, eyes wide. “You activated a weapon out there? Why?”

Ezra looked a little embarrassed. “We weren’t exactly sure what it was…”

“Wel… Considering you’re alive,” Nix muttered, shaking her head with a disbelieving laugh, “I doubt it was the same one… Why were you even there?” she added, raising an eyebrow.

Ezra gave an awkward laugh and shrugged. “Master Yoda sent us. Said we needed answers… Knowledge that could us help defeat the Sith. That’s when I found the holocron… The one you saw back on Atollon. I really thought it held the secrets we needed, but it turned out it was actually some kind of weapon control hidden in the temple.”

Kanan spoke then, his voice calm, thoughtful. “We always heard stories about Malachor as kids. They told us it was a ‘place of evil’… Under normal circumstances, I probably wouldn’t have gone there at all.”

“‘Place of evil,’” Nix repeated, her tone dry. “Sounds like something the Jedi would say. Really, it’s just a place where a war ended horribly.”

Silence fell again, the kind that hung heavy in the air until Ezra finally spoke, trying to ease the tension. “This’ll be our third time going back. It kinda reminds me of the first trip. Me, Kanan, Chopper… and Ahsoka.”

Nix frowned. She recognized the name. “Ahsoka… Rex told me about her. What really happened?”

Ezra’s face darkened, his voice softening. “A lot. We ran into Maul. Some Inquisitors. And then… Darth Vader. Ahsoka fought him so we could escape. Then there was an explosion and… We haven’t seen her since.”

The silence that followed was longer this time. Then Ezra’s voice cut through it, quiet and hesitant. “Nix… that weapon you mentioned. Do you think… is there even a small chance Ahsoka survived?”

“Ezra,” Kanan said gently, a clear warning in his voice.

“I have to know,” Ezra whispered, eyes turning to Nix. “Please.”

Nix met his gaze, saw the raw hope behind it. “I don’t know… I really don’t think what you saw was the Mass Shadow Generator. But… she was a Jedi, right?”

Ezra nodded.

“Then maybe,” Nix said softly, hesitantly. “It’s possible. But I can’t say for sure.”

Ezra nodded slowly, disappointed, but thankful. And the Phantom kept speeding through hyperspace, carrying them toward answers that could change everything.

Or nothing at all.

“We’re almost there,” Ezra said, breaking the silence that had filled the Phantom’s cockpit like a thick fog.

Nix sat up straighter, her gaze snapping forward. The moment the ship dropped out of hyperspace, Malachor came into view… And something inside her twisted.

The planet looked like it had been torn out of time. It was black and cold, marked by deep scars and jagged canyons that told of a long-forgotten tragedy. Its gray atmosphere swallowed all color, leaving behind only shadows and ash. A chill crept down Nix’s spine. The planet looked dead… and yet, she could feel something—dark and desperate—radiating from its surface.

“We’ll head straight for the spot where we found you,” Ezra said softly, guiding the Phantom toward a massive below. As the ship dropped lower, the planet’s surface opened into a giant wound. An enormous chasm that looked like it went straight into the heart of the planet.

Twisted ruins jutted up from the crater like frozen statues or wrecked ships, silent reminders of loss and destruction.

Ezra landed gently near the remains of a massive Sith temple, half-collapsed and buried in debris. He powered down the engines.

“We’re here,” he said quietly.

No one spoke for a moment. Ezra stood first and stepped outside. The others followed close behind.

The air was still and heavy. The ruins were lit only by the faint light seeping through the cloudy sky. Huge stone blocks, blackened by fire and scattered across the ground, told the story of some long-forgotten battle. The temple ahead loomed like the skeleton of a fallen giant. And when the wind passed through its shattered pillars, it almost sounded like a distant whisper.

Ezra looked around briefly. “I think I remember the way. Chopper, stay here and keep an eye on the Phantom. Scan the area. Let us know if anything moves.”

The droid beeped in protest but didn’t argue. He stayed behind as the rest of the group moved forward into the temple.

Nix walked just behind Ezra, Kanan close to her side. Their footsteps echoed quietly in the broken corridors.

After a moment, Nix asked, her voice low with the weight of the place, “Why did you want to come, Kanan?”

He didn’t answer right away. It was clear he was thinking carefully before speaking.

“Because I wanted to watch over you,” he said finally. “Both of you.”

Nix couldn’t help a small smile, despite the gloom around them. “You mean, make sure I don’t drag Ezra to the dark side, right?”

Kanan was quiet for a beat, then gave her the tiniest smile, just enough to soften his expression. “I trust Ezra. And… maybe I’m starting to trust you too.”

Nix raised her eyebrows, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. A strange tightness gripped her chest, and before she could think too much about it, her instincts kicked in. She hid the emotion the only way she knew how… With sarcasm and bad jokes.

“Careful, Kanan,” she said in a mock-serious tone. “My master’s dead, so technically I can promote myself now. I’m not just some random Sith lord… I could start calling myself Darth. Darth Nivala.” She raised her hand dramatically, like she was introducing herself to the galaxy. Then she paused, her brow furrowing. “But wouldn’t it be weird to have an apprentice who’s the same age as me? Is that allowed?”

Ezra, leading them through the corridor, turned his head. “Darth Nivala? I thought your name was Nix.”

She gave a small shrug. “Nixelle’s my name. But Nivala was my Sith name. When a Sith takes on an apprentice, the master gives them a new name… I doubt your Vader guy was actually named Vader.”

“Yeah, probably not,” Ezra said with a laugh. Then he paused. “So why did you tell us your real name?”

Nix laughed quietly, her face turning slightly red. “Honestly? I panicked. I’d just woken up from a few thousand years in carbonite, probably had stasis sickness, and the first thing I see is you going, ‘Hi, I’m Ezra. What’s your name?’ So I just blurted the first thing that came to mind.”

Kanan spoke again, his voice calm. “Ezra has a way with people. They trust him easily… and he trusts them.”

Nix smiled. She was grateful for the lighter tone that had found its way into the conversation. “Must be those blue eyes.”

Ezra glanced back at her, giving a small, amused shake of his head. He didn’t need to say anything.

For a while, no one did.

The group moved deeper into the ruins, their footsteps echoing through the hollow corridors. Every sound felt louder than it should’ve, like the place itself was listening. Nix stepped carefully over chunks of broken stone, her eyes drifting to the walls around them… Cracked, scorched, but still marked by carvings and symbols that reminded her of home. Of Korriban.

Some of the carvings were worn, faded by time. Others looked untouched, like they had somehow survived everything that destroyed the rest.

Ezra walked just ahead, his green lightsaber casting long shadows that danced over the stone. The eerie glow lit up the darkness, revealing the edges of statues, broken pillars, and the faces of ancient Sith etched in stone and forever watching.

Nix felt the weight of the place pressing in on her. Not just the silence or the darkness, but something deeper. Like echoes of the past trapped in the walls, waiting to be heard.

“Nix… do you remember anything?” Ezra asked quietly, not turning around.

“No… nothing,” she said, barely louder than a whisper. “But I have this feeling… There has to be something here. Something that can help.”

Kanan walked a few steps behind them. He lifted his wrist and activated his comm. “Chopper, how’s it looking up there? Everything good?”

The droid’s annoyed beeps came through the speaker, and Ezra gave a soft chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. Keep watching.”

Nix’s eyes scanned the walls carefully, searching for anything: any symbol, marking, or detail that might remind her of Elkazar. She reached out and let her fingers trace the faded edge of an ancient inscription.

“Everything alright?” Kanan asked quietly from behind her, his voice low, sensing her unease.

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… This place feels different than I expected. Like it’s alive and dead at the same time. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

Kanan nodded, saying nothing. He didn’t need to. The weight of the past was thick around them, pressing in like invisible walls.

Ezra suddenly slowed, lifting his lightsaber slightly higher to light the path ahead. “I think we’re close.”

Their footsteps echoed louder as they turned a final corner, and the corridor opened into a wide chamber. Nix stopped in her tracks. The space was strangely familiar, even though she had never seen it before. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding hard in her chest. A strange feeling washed over her… Part longing, part dread.

The walls, made of the obsidian-black stone, loomed around them. In the center stood a familiar sight: the carbonite block. Its form sat suspended in place, eerie and still, while the antigrav devices above flickered weakly, as if holding on to their last spark of power. Dim, sourceless light spilled through the chamber, casting long, distorted shadows across the floor.

Ezra looked around the room and gave a nervous half-smile. “Told you I remembered the way.” He glanced at Nix. “So… what exactly are we looking for?”

Nix hesitated, her gaze drifting slowly across the chamber. “Anything,” she murmured. “Anything that might lead to answers.”

She stepped toward the wall, reaching out again. There were Sith runes etched into the stone: faded, but not unreadable.

“If Elkazar was ever here, he would’ve left something behind for me. Maybe a message…”

Kanan, who had stayed silent until now, knelt carefully on the floor and took a long breath.

“Kanan?” Nix said softly, noticing his posture. She moved a little closer and leaned down. “Are you sure this is a good idea? This place is soaked in the dark side. I wouldn’t exactly go meditating in a Jedi temple.”

Kanan’s expression stayed calm. “I can handle it,” he said quietly. “Maybe I’ll sense something you two won’t see. Maybe an echo in the Force.”

Ezra, who had been listening, perked up. “An echo…” he said, thoughtful. “That’s what brought me here the first time. But now I don’t hear anything.”

Nix turned toward him. “Who knows what you really heard. These old temples can mess with your head,” she said softly. Her eyes swept the carvings again. “I wonder if this place was part of the Trayus Academy… It was an old Sith academy, rumored to have survived the Mandalorian Wars. I heard that some Sith used it as a hideout.”

Ezra nodded, taking in the surroundings. “Then let’s look properly.”

Nix nodded and crouched again, carefully examining the markings on the wall, while Ezra moved around the room, checking every corner, every crack, searching for anything that stood out.

Nix let her fingers glide over the stone, reading each phrase, each symbol. Her mind raced with the need to find something—anything—that would explain why she had been left behind. Why Elkazar had chosen this place. Whether he had left a message… or had simply abandoned her.

Across the room, Ezra was inspecting the far wall. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for—only that he’d know it if he saw it.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Anything in the writing? Something important?”

Nix stepped back from the wall slightly, sighing. “Not really. Most of it’s just phrases from the Sith Code,” she muttered. “Nothing useful.”

Then something caught her eye behind Ezra, on the far wall. A particular section. Something about it tugged at her. She walked over, slowly, her gaze fixed on the faded lettering carved into the stone. When her eyes made out the words, her face fell.

Ezra noticed her shift and walked over quietly. “Nix? What does it say?”

She didn’t answer right away. Then, in a voice barely more than a breath, she said, “I’m sorry. May the Force be with you.”

There was a long pause.

Her shoulders slumped. Her fists clenched at her sides. Then, suddenly, the anger hit… Sharp and fast and impossible to hold back.

“Of course,” she whispered.

She slammed her fist into the wall beside the inscription, hard enough to sting. “That’s it? That’s all you left me? Just fucking nothing!” she yelled, voice echoing through the temple, raw with frustration and pain.

The moment passed as quickly as it came, fading into silence. All that remained was the emptiness.

Ezra stepped up beside her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Nix,” he said softly, “maybe there’s still something else. Don’t give up.”

But she shook her head, eyes fixed on the floor. “No, Ezra… There’s nothing else here. This place has no answers left.”

That’s when Kanan’s voice broke the silence behind them. He rose slowly from where he had been meditating. “There might still be something here,” he said quietly as he stepped toward them. “The Force is… restless in this place. And you, Nix, you’re deeply connected to it. You spent thousands of years here. Maybe you should try listening to what it wants to tell you.”

“Are you sure?” Nix hesitated, glancing up at him uncertainly. “I… I was never good at meditation, Kanan. Honestly… I never really learned how.”

Kanan gave a small, patient smile. “That’s alright. Just try. Let the Force come to you.”

She hesitated again, still not entirely sure of herself. But then she gave a quiet nod and slowly knelt on the cold stone floor in the center of the chamber. She glanced quickly at Ezra and Kanan, forcing a small, crooked smile to mask her nerves. “Not really sure how this works. I’m usually the one doing the chasing. I don’t wait for answers to come find me.”

Kanan moved to kneel across from her. “I can guide you,” he said calmly. “You’re not doing this alone.”

She blinked at him, then gave a resigned sigh and a half-smile. “Alright… Thanks… Jedi helps a Sith meditate… That’s gotta be a first. Just… don’t leave me here, okay?”

Ezra chuckled softly, his voice warm. “We’re not going anywhere, Nix. Promise.”

Something about the way he said it calmed her more than she expected. She closed her eyes and tried to focus. At first, there was only restlessness: the storm of doubt and unease swirling in her chest. But then came Kanan’s voice, soft and steady, grounding her.

“Breathe slowly. Focus on your breath. Let your thoughts flow freely. Don’t push them away, but don’t chase them either. Just let them pass.”

Nix felt her breathing start to slow, her muscles slowly beginning to release the tension that gripped them.

“Now go deeper. Find that place inside yourself where there’s silence. Where there’s balance. That’s where your true strength is.”

His voice became a gentle anchor as she drifted inward. Slowly, his words faded to the edges of her awareness, and all that remained was the steady rhythm of her breath… and the silence.

Nix sank deeper. Deeper than she ever had before. Past the surface of her thoughts, past the layers of her own guarded mind, and into something darker. Something colder. The dark side of the Force surrounded her, thick and absolute, until—somewhere in the distance—she began to hear voices.

At first, they were faint, like echoes bouncing off long-forgotten walls. But slowly they grew stronger, more defined. They weren’t just voices. They were memories.

“You heard what they said?” Riisha’s voice… Young and scared. “You can't trust anyone here.”

“Useless... You’re useless,” came the cold, dispassionate voice of her mother. “You’ll always be nothing but a burden.”

And over them all, the deep, commanding voice of Darth Marr, ringing like judgment. “The Emperor is dead.”

Then came Elkazar’s voice, calm and familiar, cutting through the darkness like a lifeline. “You can do this. We’ll try the bleeding ritual again. This time, I know you’ll succeed. I believe in you.”

Then everything fell silent. The voices vanished, and the darkness pulled away like mist in the morning sun.

When Nix opened her eyes, she was lying on a bunk in her old room on Korriban. The walls were bare and dark, the space stark and familiar. A pair of headphones rested comfortably over her ears, softly playing a melody she knew all too well.

The door opened.

Riisha stepped inside, his movements tense, his face unsettled. Nix pulled off her headphones and looked at him, one brow slightly raised.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice low. But she already knew something was wrong. The look in his eyes told her as much.

Riisha glanced back at the door before speaking, like he needed to be sure no one else was listening. “I heard something… I… I think someone was killed.”

“Killing between acolytes is forbidden,” Nix replied automatically, but the unease was already creeping into her chest.

“I know, but…” Riisha moved closer, sitting down on the bunk beside her. “You know what they say. ‘Accidents happen,’ right?”

Her stomach turned cold. She knew exactly what he meant. “Maybe it was an accident,” she offered weakly, but her smile faded when he didn’t answer.

He just looked at her, worry etched deep in his face. “What if next time it’s one of us?”

Those words hit her like a physical blow. But before she could respond, the scene dissolved abruptly, plunging her back into darkness. She gasped, eyes snapping open as she quickly took in her surroundings. She was back on Malachor… But Ezra and Kanan were gone.

She scrambled to her feet. "Ezra? Kanan?" she called out, voice echoing emptily in reply. She reached for her comm, but it was silent, dead.

"Great," she muttered sarcastically, frustration edging her voice.

Then, from behind her, a familiar deep voice spoke up, smooth and cold. "Did you truly think you could avoid me forever, little Sith?"

Nix spun around instantly. Valkorion stood motionless, his tall, imposing figure draped in ornate white robes. His gaze was cold, piercing, and faintly amused as if he was enjoying watching her squirm.

"What do you want from me?!" she snapped, though her voice betrayed more desperation than anger.

Valkorion took a slow, deliberate step toward her, each movement sending chills crawling down her spine. "I want you to open your eyes. You crave answers, yet you refuse to face the truth. You cling to memories that might never have been real."

A wave of uncertainty crashed over her as he drew closer. "What are you talking about? Elkazar would never—"

"Oh, yes, your beloved master," Valkorion interrupted, a mocking smile curling his lips. "Do you truly believe Darth Elkazar was who you thought he was? That all his actions were done for your benefit? Think. Why else would he abandon you to darkness while the galaxy moved on without you?"

"Shut up!" Nix snapped, her voice trembling. "Why do you keep trying to convince me everything was different?"

"Because you refuse to see past your loyalty," Valkorion pressed, voice firm, almost hypnotic. "Your mind is clouded by attachments to a past that's long gone. Sith once ruled the galaxy. Their legacy was mighty. But then came Darth Bane with his precious Rule of Two."

Nix hesitated, curiosity momentarily outweighing her fear. "Rule of Two? What's that?"

Valkorion's smile twisted into something cold, ironic. "'Only two there shall be. No more, no less. One to embody power, the other to crave it.' Bane believed it would strengthen the Sith. Yet, even then, apprentices took their own apprentices. They merely labeled them assassins instead of Sith. Such hypocrisy." His smile sharpened. “The Rule was broken the moment it was spoken.”

She stared at him, his words dangerously alluring. "But why are you telling me this? What am I supposed to do with some rule I've never even heard of?"

"Because you represent something more than a remnant of an old era," Valkorion continued smoothly, his voice dripping with manipulative certainty. "You could be the key to restoring the Sith's true power. Perhaps your master hid you away… but your destiny matters more than you realize."

"And what exactly am I supposed to do with that?" Nix demanded desperately. "Maybe I don't want to be important… For all I know, you're not even real! You're just some twisted figment of my mind!"

Valkorion studied her calmly, his eyes sharp and unreadable. "Then allow me to help you find your answers. It's time for you to truly open your eyes."

Without another word, he raised a hand. A surge of violet lightning erupted toward her. Nix instinctively threw her hands up, forming a Force shield. But the strike she anticipated never came. When she opened her eyes, Valkorion was gone and the room along with him.

When she opened her eyes again, the vision had shifted, and for a moment she struggled to orient herself. She was still on Malachor, but this time in a small, dimly lit chamber, more like a makeshift hideout than a grand temple hall. Before she could fully grasp where she was, the door opened, and Elkazar stepped inside slowly.

Nix barely recognized him. He appeared older, his face exhausted, eyes clouded by sadness and pain. His once-grand robes were tattered and dirty, as though he'd spent a long time hidden away from the world. Silently, he stood in the center of the room, staring blankly into space.

"Master…?" Nix whispered, reaching out instinctively but her fingertips brushed only empty air. The vision vanished as abruptly as it had appeared.

She gasped sharply, opening her eyes again, disoriented. She was back in the dark chamber on Malachor, Kanan kneeling across from her, Ezra seated nearby, studying some ancient stone tablet.

"Nix? You okay? Did you see something?" Ezra asked immediately, noticing her distress.

She hesitated for a moment but long enough to make the choice. She wouldn’t mention Valkorion. Not yet. "I… saw Korriban," she answered slowly. "And… Elkazar. I think he had some kind of hiding place somewhere on Malachor. I'm sure of it."

Kanan rose slowly, his face set with quiet resolve. “Then maybe we can still find it.”

Nix looked at him, surprised by his willingness to continue the search for her answers. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Kanan replied confidently. "The Force showed it to you for a reason. Maybe you'll finally find what you're looking for."

Gratitude flooded her chest. She rose slowly, offering them both a faint yet determined smile. Finally, she felt that the answers she'd sought for so long were within reach.

The sun over Ryloth was merciless, scorching everything that dared to exist on the planet’s surface. In the heart of Tann province stood the ruined Syndulla residence, now swarming with workers and various droids hastily repairing damage from the recent rebel attack. The entire area was a scene of organized chaos: shouts, barked orders, and swirling dust hung heavy in the stifling air.

The Twelfth Brother moved through the site like a specter, untouched by the heat or the grit. His black uniform was spotless, his hair perfectly combed, and his beard trimmed with surgical precision. His black glasses hid his eyes completely, but everyone who passed him still felt the chill of his gaze.

He stopped in front of a makeshift command tent, where two Imperial officers awaited him with poorly concealed anxiety. Captain Slavin’s usual composure appeared markedly strained, and beside him stood the younger Lieutenant Relor, looking ready to faint at any moment.

"Captain Slavin, Lieutenant Relor," the Inquisitor addressed them in a tone edged with cold amusement. " I assume you know why I’m here."

"Yes, sir," Slavin replied stiffly, visibly trying to mask his unease. " Grand Admiral Thrawn informed us of your arrival."

"Grand Admiral Thrawn has been unusually cautious about this matter," the Twelfth Brother remarked with an ironic smirk, stepping inside while critically surveying the crude interior.

Without waiting for an invitation, he settled comfortably into the nearest chair and casually propped his feet up on a low table, claiming the space as though it had always belonged to him. He turned his head toward the officers, observing them coolly from behind the opaque lenses of his glasses.

"I'm particularly interested in that young girl who appeared here recently. You do know who I’m talking about, I presume?"

Lieutenant Relor immediately nodded, his voice trembling with nerves. "Y-yes, sir. She posed as a supply officer. We suspected—"

"Suspected?" The Inquisitor cut him off with quiet amusement. "Yes, that’s precisely what fascinates me. Your ability to be fooled by anyone wearing the right uniform."

Slavin’s jaw tightened, but he refrained from protesting openly. "We've already provided all relevant information to the Grand Admiral—"

"Then you'll provide it again to me, Captain," the Twelfth Brother interrupted, his voice soft yet carrying an unmistakable authority. "And I strongly advise you not to leave anything out this time. Every detail may prove crucial."

Relor swallowed anxiously, attempting to steady himself. Before he could begin, however, the Inquisitor raised a hand, silencing him once more. His voice took on a smooth, chilling edge.

"And let me be clear. If either of you leave out something important, don’t bother trying to explain yourselves to The Grand Admiral. You won’t get the chance. I will be far closer."

The Lieutenant froze entirely, and Slavin’s hands clenched into tight fists. The atmosphere in the small shelter thickened dangerously.

Noting their reaction, the Inquisitor chuckled quietly, almost mockingly, and waved his hand casually. "Now that we understand each other… begin. Tell me everything."

Chapter Text

Malachor stretched out beneath the Phantom like an endless, broken plain scarred with deep fractures and craters that looked like the wounds of long-forgotten wars. The surface appeared lifeless, barren, and yet Nix could feel a disturbing echo through the Force. Something buried, something restless.

Ezra’s hands gripped the controls tightly, his gaze locked on the bleak horizon through the cockpit’s viewport. Kanan sat calmly beside Nix, his presence focused inward. Both of them were deep in meditation. Nix could feel Kanan’s presence like a quiet anchor in the Force. She wasn’t used to being guided, least of all by a Jedi, but surprisingly, it gave her a strange sense of comfort.

“You agree with the direction?” Kanan’s calm voice broke the silence.

Nix focused for a moment, reaching out with her senses, searching for any trace that might guide them forward. And then—faint but undeniable—came a pull. A subtle tug, like the Force itself was pointing the way.

“It should be somewhere ahead,” she said quietly, opening her eyes. She leaned forward and gestured toward a flat expanse in the distance. “Try landing over there. Near that ridge.”

Ezra adjusted the course without a word. The Phantom glided silently through the gray mist that clung to Malachor like a curtain of oblivion. As they neared the spot where Nix felt the Force stirring most strongly, the ship descended onto a wide, stone platform near a deep ravine surrounded by jagged ruins.

“We’re here,” Ezra announced, standing from the pilot’s seat.

Kanan stood as well and turned to Nix. “How are you feeling?”

Nix took a slow breath, then exhaled. “Nervous,” she admitted with a faint smile. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to find.”

“Trust yourself. Trust the Force,” Kanan said calmly, stepping toward the exit. “Are you ready?”

Nix hesitated just briefly, then nodded with quiet resolve. “Yeah.”

The moment they stepped out of the Phantom, the crushing atmosphere of Malachor enveloped them once again. The air was dense with ash and dust, falling like snow onto their clothes. Nix looked around slowly, her eyes sweeping across the jagged ruins. She could feel it now more than ever: They were close. So close to something that mattered.

From his perch atop the Phantom, Chopper let out a string of annoyed beeps, as if expressing his own opinion about the planet’s desolate vibes.

“Chopper, stay with the ship,” Ezra called over his shoulder. “If anything happens, let us know.”

The droid grumbled but didn’t move, settling into place as the trio began to walk forward. Nix led the way, following that faint thread in the Force. Every step felt heavier, as though the planet itself resisted them but still she moved forward, pulled by something unseen.

“We have to find something. Anything,” Nix whispered. “What was he even hiding from?”

Ezra walked close behind her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, sensing the tension in her frame. “We’ll find it,” he said with quiet conviction. “Together.”

Kanan didn’t speak, but his presence at her side was steady. Nix could feel it. He understood the weight of this place just as much as she did. The three of them pressed on, guided by the Force and by the hope that Malachor still had something left to reveal.

The landscape around them was barren and gray, littered with black stones that looked like debris from some ancient cataclysm. There was no life here, no movement: only silence, and the oppressive heaviness of the dark side.

Ezra cast a wary glance around, his expression unsure. “Are you sure this is the right place?” he asked finally, voice hushed. Each step they took sent up clouds of dust that clung to their boots and drifted slowly back to the cracked ground. “Because honestly… it looks like there’s nothing here.”

Nix gave a small shrug and sighed. “I don’t know… I felt something in the Force. But maybe it’s just desperate hope. I mean… it’s been over three thousand years.”

Kanan stepped up beside her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. His voice was calm, steady. “If you felt something, then trust it. Keep going.”

She met his blind gaze and, despite herself, found reassurance there. With a quiet nod, she turned forward and walked on, letting the Force guide her. Step by step, they moved deeper into the desolation, the silence growing thicker with every meter.

“Maybe we’re too late,” she murmured. “Maybe it’s all gone.”

She stopped for a moment and closed her eyes, reaching out again. At first, she felt nothing. But then… something. A strange pull, like a current brushing against her thoughts. Her eyes opened, and she took a cautious step forward.

“Or maybe not…” she whispered.

Then the ground gave way beneath her feet.

The scream escaped before she could stop it, and then she was falling—hard—until her body slammed against stone several meters below. The breath was knocked from her lungs as she landed on her back, staring up at a ceiling lost in darkness.

“Nix!” Ezra’s voice rang out from above, sharp with panic. “Are you okay?!”

She gasped for air, coughed a few times, and finally managed to call back, “Yeah... I think so.” She sat up slowly, blinking away the dizziness. “I may have actually found something.”

Darkness surrounded her completely, until it was pushed back by the soft hum and glow of her violet lightsaber. As the blade ignited with a familiar snap-hiss, its gentle light revealed a narrow corridor carved deep into the rock.

Ezra leaned over the edge of the pit and visibly relaxed at the sight of her. “Now that looks promising. Hold on. We’re coming down.”

Within moments, he dropped gracefully beside her, his green lightsaber flaring to life and joining hers to cast stronger light across the tight space. Kanan followed a heartbeat later, guided by the Force as he landed beside them without hesitation.

“Thanks for the dramatic entrance,” Ezra teased with a small smirk, nudging her lightly with his elbow. “But maybe next time give us a heads-up?”

Nix chuckled, but the sound caught in her throat and turned into a rough, painful cough. She doubled over, hand over her mouth, struggling to breathe. When the fit finally passed, she stared at her palm… and saw it. A faint, unmistakable smear of blood. Her heart stopped for a second.

Without a word, she clenched her fist and quickly wiped her hand on her pants.

“Nix?” Ezra’s voice was full of concern now. “You sure you’re alright?”

She forced a casual smile and shrugged. “Yeah. Probably just inhaled some dust or something. I’m fine.”

Ezra didn’t look entirely convinced, but after a moment, he nodded. “Okay. Just… be careful.”

Kanan took a few steps forward, reaching out with his senses as his hand hovered in the air. “This place… there’s something here.”

“Exactly,” Nix said, her voice tinged with cautious hope. “I think we’re really close.”

“So… Your master was a fan of underground tunnels, huh?” Ezra remarked, stepping forward with measured steps.

“Elkazar liked to plan ahead. And… he liked secrets,” Nix said quietly as she followed him. “But I never would’ve guessed he’d build a hideout here. Why Malachor of all places?”

Ezra glanced back at her with a shrug. “Maybe he didn’t want anyone to find it. Or maybe… he only wanted you to.”

The idea struck a chord. Nix didn’t reply, but the thought warmed something deep inside her. Even if it was unlikely, the possibility that her master had left something behind for her was comforting in a way she hadn’t expected.

They kept walking, the violet and green glow of their lightsabers painting the narrow hallway in ghostly hues. Shadows twisted and stretched across the carved stone walls as they moved deeper into the underground maze.

Nix’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing with anticipation and fear. She was walking a path that might finally lead her to the truth. And whatever it was, she wasn’t walking it alone. She had Ezra. She had Kanan. And somehow, that mattered more than she thought it would.

The hallway wasn’t long. The stones beneath their feet were cracked and worn, covered in a thin layer of dust that lifted with every step. Ezra led the way, his saber illuminating their path, while Nix followed close behind, lost in thought.

They passed a few small chambers carved into the rock. One housed a long-dead generator, its casing rusted and scattered with mechanical parts. The device looked like no one had touched it in centuries. Another room held old storage crates, the food supplies inside long since turned to dust. Ezra pried one open and grimaced at the brittle, fossilized contents.

“This place hasn’t been used in a long time,” he muttered as he shut the lid and moved on.

“Thousands of years,” Nix whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. Each step felt heavier now, as if the air itself grew thicker with every inch. Was this really where Elkazar had hidden?

At last, they reached what appeared to be the main chamber. It was small, almost bunker-like in its simplicity. The furniture was sparse and ancient, barely more than fragments. A decayed bedframe leaned against the far wall, its mattress all but disintegrated. Beside it stood a small table layered in dust, with a few shelves embedded into the stone nearby. The whole room gave off a feeling of abandonment: untouched, undisturbed since its last occupant walked away.

Nix stepped carefully toward the shelves, eyes scanning the contents. She didn’t know what she was looking for exactly… just something, anything that could prove this place had belonged to Elkazar.

Ancient amulets rested in the shadows, their once-vibrant crystals dulled with age. One bore the etched symbol of the Sith Empire. Another looked like the shattered piece of a holocron. Her attention lingered on a strange, curved blade, its handle etched with runes.

But then her gaze fell to the table beside the bed.

On the table lay two small devices. One was clearly damaged, but the other—a round, compact holoprojector—seemed almost untouched. Nix’s heart skipped a beat as she carefully picked it up. She hesitated, then pressed the small activation button on its side.

For a few long seconds, nothing happened. Just as she was starting to lose hope, a soft light flickered to life. A flickering hologram shimmered into view above the table: grainy, a little distorted, but unmistakably real. Elkazar… and her. It was an old recording, from a time when she had only just become his apprentice. In the image, Elkazar had his arm around her shoulders, his face oddly warm, almost kind. And she… she looked so young. And almost happy.

Nix felt her throat tighten as she stared at the projection of her former master. She forced herself to push the rising emotion down before either Ezra or Kanan could notice.

“I think we’re in the right place,” she said softly.

“Did you find something?” Ezra’s voice came gently from behind as he stepped closer, his gaze falling on the image. He was quiet for a moment, then smiled faintly. “You two were really close, huh?”

Nix offered a small, bitter smile, her eyes still locked on the hologram. “Yeah… maybe a little too close... for a Sith...”

She knew Ezra could sense the ache behind her words, but even so, something in her resisted letting him see the full weight of it.

“You know, Nix… It’s okay to miss him,” Ezra said gently. “Whatever you had… it was real.”

She drew in a slow breath, trying to steady her voice. “I know. I just keep wondering… if he felt the same.”

Ezra laid a hand on her shoulder. There was no pressure in the gesture, only quiet comfort. “I think he did. This place… everything he left here… it means something.”

“Maybe you’re right,” she murmured, nodding faintly. Her smile faded. “But… why did he leave me?”

Silence filled the room again, the only sound a low hum from the holoprojector still glowing between them. They all stood there, surrounded by dust and memories, each lost in their own thoughts.

Eventually, Nix reached out and shut off the projector, placing it gently back on the table. Her attention shifted to the second device: the damaged datapad lying beside it. She picked it up carefully, brushing off the thick layer of dust. The screen was cracked, the outer casing corroded, but something told her it might still hold something worth finding.

“What is it?” Ezra asked as he came closer, eyeing the device curiously.

“A datapad. Really old,” she replied, turning it over in her hands. “There might be something on it… a message, a log, anything.”

She tried to power it on, but nothing happened. With a frustrated sigh, she closed her eyes and let the Force flow through her fingers. A moment later, the datapad gave a faint buzz.

A distorted projection stuttered to life: low resolution, flickering with static. It was Elkazar again. Nix recognized him instantly, but he looked completely different now. He was older. Worn down. His face was gaunt, shadowed with fatigue and sorrow. Deep lines marked his skin, and his eyes were heavy with something like despair.

The audio was warped and full of interference. His lips moved, but the words were lost in static.

“Try boosting the signal,” Ezra suggested quickly, but Nix shook her head.

“It’s too damaged…” she murmured, still trying to make out fragments through the noise.

And then—briefly—his voice cut through. “...Acina…” he said wearily. “...purge…” More static. Then one final, clearer word: “...on Korriban…”

And then, the image vanished. The datapad fell silent again.

A heavy stillness settled over the room. Nix stared at the spot where her master had just been, her mind reeling. The question thundered in her head: What happened?

“Nix… does any of that mean something to you?” Ezra asked gently, breaking the silence.

“Darth Acina…” she said slowly, eyes still unfocused. “Yeah, I remember. She was on the Dark Council. Later… she became the new Empress of the Sith Empire. But why… why would be Elkazar mentioning her? He was on the Council, too. It doesn’t make sense.”

Ezra watched her quietly before speaking again. “Maybe something else happened.”

“Yeah… we were at war with the Eternal Empire,” Nix replied, her voice distant. “But why freeze me in carbonite? I could’ve helped. I could’ve fought...”

Her words cracked with frustration, the confusion and pain threatening to boil over. It all still felt so far out of reach.

“He mentioned a place,” Kanan said quietly, his calm voice grounding. “Korriban?”

Nix turned toward him. “Yeah... That’s where the Sith Academy was.” She froze for a moment as something clicked. “I saw it. Earlier… when I was meditating in the temple. I saw Korriban! Maybe it’s connected. Maybe... I’m meant to find something there.”

Kanan nodded slowly. “It could be a sign. But… I’ve never heard of a planet called Korriban.”

“Really? Well… It’s probably just as dead as Malachor,” she replied bitterly.

“Maybe,” Kanan admitted, his voice steady as always. Then he added with a quiet but encouraging tone, “But back at the base, we can dig into the star charts. If you remember even a rough region from your time, we might be able to find it.”

A faint flicker of hope stirred in Nix’s chest, quickly followed by a familiar tightness of fear. What if there was nothing there? What if all she found were more questions? Still, she managed a small nod, forcing a smile.

“Alright... it’s worth a try.”

Ezra stepped closer, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, Nix. Whatever happened… we’ll find the truth.”

She met his eyes, searching them. And there it was: genuine belief, unwavering and calm. She didn’t understand how he could carry so much hope, but somehow, it was exactly what she needed. Maybe he was right. Maybe they really would find the answers.

For a while, Nix drifted silently through the room again. Her gaze fell on the shelves. She stepped closer, reaching out to touch a worn amulet inlaid with dull red crystals. The metal was cold and timeworn, once meticulously crafted but now etched with age. She let out a breath and placed it back. Her eyes returned to the holoprojector still resting on the table.

She picked it up again, carefully, reverently, as though it might crumble in her hands. The image of her and Elkazar blinked softly to life once more. Her grip tightened slightly, and she closed her eyes, swallowing the swell of emotion. Then, without a word, she tucked it carefully into her pocket. A keepsake. Something to hold onto. Something that made her master feel a little less gone.

From across the room, Ezra watched her quietly, standing beside Kanan. Then, hesitantly, he turned to his master.

“Kanan,” he said under his breath, just loud enough for only him to hear. “Not long ago you didn’t trust her at all. And now... you’re trying to help. What changed?”

Kanan didn’t answer right away. His face, partly hidden by the mask, was unreadable. But Ezra could sense the turmoil beneath the surface. At last, Kanan let out a breath and spoke, his voice low and distant.

“I was blind. Not just with my eyes… truly blind. I was so focused on what she might become, I didn’t stop to see who she already was. Lost. Like the rest of us.”

Ezra didn’t reply. He just glanced back at Nix, who still stood near the center of the room. There was a quiet sadness in her eyes, a silence deeper than words. For all her sarcasm and bravado, she was grieving. Ezra didn’t need to understand every detail to recognize that kind of pain.

And then—startlingly softly—she spoke behind them.

“I think we can go now.” Her voice was tired, and though she managed a faint smile, the heaviness in her eyes hadn’t faded. “I don’t think there’s anything else to find.”

Ezra turned to her, searching her face, but Nix had already started walking toward the corridor’s exit. He exchanged a quick glance with Kanan, who gave a subtle nod, and they followed.

Ezra caught up to her quickly as they made their way back toward the surface. For a while, none of them said a word. The only sound was the soft crunch of dust beneath their boots and the faint moan of wind that drifted through the ruins like a forgotten memory. Ezra stole a glance at Nix as they walked. Her eyes remained fixed on the ground, her thoughts drifting somewhere far away.

“Hey, Nix...” Ezra began gently, his voice low and uncertain, carefully feeling out the right words. “I know this must be really hard for you…”

Nix looked up at him, a little surprised at first, as if she had only just realized Ezra had been walking beside her the whole time. But just as quickly, her usual guarded expression slipped back into place, and she offered a small, dismissive smile.

“I’ve got more questions than answers,” she said, her tone light but hollow. “We’re Sith, Ezra. Maybe Elkazar just… wanted to disappear.”

Ezra smiled faintly, though he could hear the effort behind her sarcasm. He knew her well enough by now to recognize it as a shield. The one she raised whenever something hit too close to home. But he also knew this wasn’t the time to call her out. Instead, he chose a gentler path.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said with a small chuckle, matching her tone just enough to meet her where she was. “But… you don’t have to carry all this alone. It’s okay to let yourself sit with it sometimes. Or even talk about it, you know… if you ever want to.”

Nix slowed down a little, glancing sideways at him with a slightly raised brow.

“Are you seriously volunteering to be my therapist for Sith existential crises, Bridger?” she asked dryly, but there was a flicker of something else behind her voice. Something grateful.

Ezra shrugged, smiling. “Well… I’m not exactly an expert in Sith psychology. But if you ever need someone to listen… I’m pretty good at that part.”

For a moment, she just watched him in silence, like she was weighing whether to deflect again or let the moment stand. Then, her lips curled into a small, more genuine smile.

“Ezra, maybe you’re wrong. Maybe you are an expert after all. An expert at annoying tired Sith girls,” she replied, nudging him lightly with her elbow.

Ezra laughed and nudged her back. “Hey, everyone’s gotta have a talent.”

They kept walking, letting the dry wind of Malachor sweep around them. Dust curled at their feet like ghostly tendrils, and though they returned to their usual banter, something quiet lingered beneath it… something honest.

Ezra glanced at her occasionally, silent but attentive. Nix noticed, of course. She always did. Normally she would have brushed it off, but this time his quiet presence brought her unexpected comfort.

Then her foot slipped on a loose stone.

Without hesitation, Ezra reached out and caught her by the elbow. His grip was steady and gentle, holding her just long enough for her to regain her balance. The contact lingered a second or two longer than it needed to.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper and softer than she’d expected.

Nix looked at him quickly, her breath catching slightly when she met his eyes. There was something there—concern, maybe something more—but he looked away too quickly for her to know for sure.

“Yeah… thanks,” she replied quietly.

For a heartbeat, she let herself wonder—just briefly—what things might be like if they weren’t Jedi and Sith. If there weren’t rules, expectations, years of pain and conflict between them. But the thought was gone as quickly as it came, pushed aside as she focused on the path ahead.

Without another word, they continued toward the Phantom, their footsteps the only sound in the empty ruins of a forgotten world.

The Twelfth Brother sat alone in the dim glow of one of the Empire’s many data centers. The room was cold and sterile, illuminated only by the bluish tint of a dozen displays that surrounded him. He remained motionless at the center, fingers gliding rapidly and precisely over the controls in front of him. The soft light flickered across the lenses of his black visor, hiding whatever expression might be behind them.

In his mind, he replayed every word from his earlier meeting with Slavin and Relor on Ryloth. He had a description now: white hair, strange yellow eyes, a scar cutting across her face. But most important were her abilities. Not the predictable skills of a Jedi, like telekinesis, persuasion, deflection. No. This girl had shown something else. Something different.

“Force lightning,” he murmured to himself, and a cold smile crept across his lips. “Who are you?”

He ran through the possibilities. A deserter? A fallen Padawan? Perhaps a rogue Inquisitor’s secret apprentice? None of the scenarios truly fit. The Imperial archives had been scoured. Records of every Jedi who might have survived Order 66 had been reviewed. Every name, every face, every trace… and still nothing. No match.

Frustration threatened to rise, but his cybernetically-enhanced mind kept it tightly in check. He stayed focused. Methodical.

He reopened the scrambled footage from the walker wreckage on Ryloth, what Slavin had managed to recover. The image stuttered with static, but the subject was unmistakable: the white-haired girl, wind whipping through her stolen Imperial uniform as she raised her hand, bolts of blue lightning crackling outward. The clip was short, but it was enough.

“Analyze subject,” he commanded coolly. “Facial match. Begin scan.”

Seconds ticked by. The system ran through billions of entries in the galactic registry, searching for any potential identification.

Result: No match found.

The Twelfth Brother’s gloved fist clenched, knuckles tightening with restraint. But he didn’t stop. Instead, he rewound the footage, eyes scanning for anything—anyone—else. And there he was. The same young man who had stood beside her during the confrontation. Dark hair. Familiar build.

He pulled footage from another incident but this time, a probe droid report from Lothal. Same girl. Same young man.

“Analyze secondary subject. Begin scan.”

The response came faster this time.

Match found. Ezra Bridger. Known associate of rebel cell – Lothal sector.

The Inquisitor’s lips curved upward. “Ezra Bridger…” he repeated slowly, committing the name to memory. “So you brought her straight to the rebels. Not a wise decision.”

More images appeared: Bridger spotted with Hera Syndulla, pilot of the ship known as Ghost. The threads began to connect. Kanan Jarrus, Sabine Wren, Garazeb Orrelios. The girl wasn’t just a stray Force-sensitive. They had taken her in.

“Interesting,” the Inquisitor murmured, leaning back slightly in his chair. The faint hum of data streams filled the silence as his mind locked onto a single conclusion: whatever she was, she posed a threat. And it was a threat he would eliminate personally.

“We’ll meet soon,” he said softly, almost fondly, his gloved hand resting on the hilt of his lightsaber.

Chapter Text

It was still very early when Ezra opened his eyes and stared quietly at the ceiling of his cabin. He tossed and turned, lying first on one side, then the other, but sleep wouldn’t come back. Eventually, he sighed, got dressed, and carefully made his way down the corridor toward the Ghost’s cockpit. The ship was still asleep at this hour, and the entire Chopper base was wrapped in the calm silence that came just before dawn.

When he entered the cockpit, he sank into the pilot’s seat and activated the holographic star map. The bluish light cast a soft glow across his face as he stared into the tangled web of stars, systems, and planets. But his eyes were searching for something specific… though so far, without success.

“Korriban...” he murmured under his breath, as if saying it aloud might somehow convince the planet to appear.

“Are you actually looking for something, or just trying to go blind?” came a teasing voice from behind him, and Ezra flinched slightly in surprise.

He turned to see Sabine standing in the doorway, a steaming cup of something in her hand and a faint, amused smile playing on her lips.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” she added playfully as she stepped inside. “What are you doing up this early?”

Ezra hesitated for a moment, then gave a small shrug. “I couldn’t sleep. I just kept thinking about what Nix said… about Korriban. She thinks she might find answers there… but the problem is, none of us have ever heard of it. And I can’t find it in any of the maps.”

Sabine nodded and settled into the copilot’s seat beside him. For a while, they both stared quietly at the slowly rotating map before she finally asked, gently, “Why does it matter so much to you, Ezra?”

Ezra paused, as if he hadn’t really thought about it that way before. His gaze dropped from the map to the side before he finally replied, softly, “I don’t know. She always looks kinda lost, you know? I feel like she won’t ever really be okay here with us until she gets the answers she’s looking for. And I don’t want her to keep feeling that way. Like she doesn’t belong.”

Sabine watched him in silence for a moment, then smiled slightly and said, her voice quiet—like she was hinting at more than she was actually saying, “You know... maybe you should admit that it’s not just because she looks lost.”

Ezra blinked, a little flustered, and scratched the back of his neck. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sabine just smiled and nudged him playfully in the shoulder. “Nothing. Just a thought.” Then she turned her attention back to the hologram. “Anyway, if we’re gonna find that planet, we’ll probably need more than just a name. How about you go get her, and we’ll take a look together?”

Ezra looked at her, surprised, and smiled a little. “You really want to help her with this?”

Sabine shrugged, though her expression had grown more serious and warm at the same time. “Yeah. I do. I think you’re right… we’re all in this together.”

Ezra smiled, more confidently now, and rose from the pilot’s seat. “Thanks, Sabine.”

“Now go, before I change my mind,” she called after him with a grin as she began scanning through the database.

With a quiet sense of gratitude, Ezra turned and started down the corridor toward Nix’s cabin outside.

Nix was sitting in her small room, her back resting against the wall. The faint glow of the holoprojector lit up her face, reflecting in her eyes and casting a near-mystical light over her pale skin. In her hands, she held the tiny holoprojector she’d found on Malachor, which continued to play the same image on a loop.

It was an old recording… grainy, partially out of focus, and yet unmistakably clear. It showed her alongside Elkazar. A memory from a time when everything had been simpler. Elkazar was smiling in the image, something rare for him. He usually came across as stern, reserved… but here, he looked almost content. And her younger self? She was looking off to the side with a faint, shy smile on her lips.

Soft music played in her ears, something calming that gave her room to think. She hadn’t been able to sleep. Again. The same thoughts kept circling through her mind, and now there was the added fear that Valkorion would show up in her dreams.

She sighed and closed her eyes. But her thoughts quickly drifted elsewhere. To Ezra.

Of all the people she had met in this time, it was Ezra who had helped her the most. Not only had he accepted her… he’d fought for her, even when the others hesitated. Especially Kanan. And while Nix knew she couldn’t blame Kanan for his mistrust—he was a Jedi and she was a Sith, after all—it still surprised her how much he had started to change. He had even come with them to Malachor, without a single reason to. She didn’t fully understand it, but something between them had shifted. That constant rejection she once felt… it wasn’t there anymore.

She wasn’t sure whether it was the strange ritual Bendu had shown them, or if it had more to do with Ezra.

She smiled faintly to herself, though there was a sadness to it. Whenever she thought of Ezra, there was a strange warmth inside her. She didn’t know what to call it. Was it friendship? Something more? She didn’t know. She didn’t even want to try and define it. For now, it was enough just knowing she had someone she could trust.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. She flinched slightly, quickly turning off the holoprojector and slipping off her headphones.

“Yeah?” she called out, sitting up straighter as her heart still pounded a little.

The door slid open, and Ezra peeked inside, offering her a sheepish smile. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, it’s fine. I couldn’t sleep anyway,” she said with a small shrug, subtly tucking the holoprojector into her pants pocket like she was worried he might see it.

Ezra stepped inside and let the door close behind him, leaning casually against the wall as he studied her for a moment before speaking.

“I was thinking… how about we take a look at the star maps now?” he said quietly. “Sabine already got the terminal set up on the Ghost. She thinks we might actually be able to find something about Korriban.”

Nix blinked in surprise. “Now?”

“If you’d rather wait, we can. I didn’t mean to push,” Ezra added quickly, like he wasn’t sure how far to go.

“No, it’s okay,” she shook her head and gave a small, tired smile. “Actually… that sounds like a good idea.”

For a moment, there was silence between them. Ezra watched her with that same gentle, attentive look he always had around her lately. Then he spoke again, his voice even softer this time. “Hey… you know you can talk to me, right? If you ever need to.”

Nix felt a flush creep into her cheeks. She wasn’t used to this openness. Letting people in had never been easy. So instead of answering directly, she gave him a quick smile and looked away.

“Seriously, Ezra… since when did you become my therapist? Should I start saving up credits?” she quipped, her voice laced with dry humor, though somewhere deep down, his words had hit home in a way she didn’t want to admit.

Ezra chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll settle for knowing you’re okay.”

“Oh, I’m totally okay,” she replied with a playful smirk, pushing herself up off the bed. “Now come on. Let’s go find Korriban.”

For a brief moment, their eyes met and Nix swore her heart skipped a beat. She quickly looked away, grabbed her jacket, and headed for the door. Ezra followed close behind.

The Ghost stood quietly on the tarmac of the base, the soft morning light just beginning to stretch across the barren landscape of Atollon. Ezra and Nix walked up the short ramp and headed straight for the cockpit, where Sabine was already seated at the main terminal. The soft glow of the galaxy map rotated slowly above the console, casting a pale light over her brightly dyed hair.

Sabine turned as soon as she heard their footsteps and gave Nix a friendly smile. “Morning,” she said with a smirk. “I’ve already heard about your mysterious Korriban. Unfortunately, the name didn’t come up in the index, so we’re gonna need a little more to go on.”

Ezra shrugged and motioned toward Nix. “This is our resident expert on ancient Sith worlds. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to squeeze many details out of her… yet.”

“I’ll remember something, don’t worry,” Nix replied with a small grin as she stepped up to the holographic map. She studied it in silence for a moment, tilting her head slightly as she observed the projected stars.

Sabine watched her with a curious expression, then finally asked, “What are you doing?”

“Well,” Nix began slowly, still tilting her head as she studied the map, “I think the map I’m used to was, like, rotated differently… and the galaxy borders looked totally different back then. There are systems and sectors I remember that aren’t even here now, and then you’ve got others that weren’t there at all. I just need to find the right angle.”

“Take your time,” Sabine said supportively, and Ezra smiled as he dropped into the seat beside her, giving Nix the space she needed.

Nix began to slowly circle the map, muttering to herself under her breath. “Korriban was in the Horuset system… seven moons, two asteroid belts. It should be… somewhere around here?” She waved her hand across a large section of the hologram.

Sabine frowned and leaned forward. “Horuset system? That doesn’t ring any bells. Can you remember any nearby planets? Something recognizable we can search for?”

“I’ll try,” Nix murmured, folding her arms and taking a deep breath. “Dromund Kaas? No… Ziost… I don’t see that either…”

Sabine scanned the index rapidly. “Nope. Neither of those are listed.”

Nix continued, still lost in thought as her eyes scanned the sea of familiar and unfamiliar names. Then suddenly, her gaze landed on something she recognized, and she pointed sharply. “Yavin! I know that one! Yavin IV! I was there with my master. It’s not exactly close, but Korriban was somewhere past it…”

“Then let’s take a look at the area ‘somewhere past Yavin,’” Sabine nodded and zoomed in on the region. “Okay, we’ve got the Sertar sector, Esstran sector… systems like Florrum, Vanqor… Thurum…”

“None of those sound familiar,” Nix murmured, almost to herself. “Also… who knows if Korriban even still exists…”

Before Sabine could respond, a calm voice came from the doorway behind them. “There’s a planet called Ashas Ree in the Sertar sector. It was once a Jedi world, but a long time ago, it was under Sith control. I read about it back at the Temple, when I was still a Padawan.”

Everyone turned toward the door. Kanan stood leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed, his expression neutral but attentive.

Nix paused, considering. Her eyes lit up slightly. “Could that be it?” she asked, then pointed to Malachor on the map. “That’s where we were… Malachor was a Sith world long before I was even born. And if Ashas Ree was one too, maybe we’re on the right path. Maybe it’s nearby…”

“A lot of planets and systems had their names changed after the Empire rose,” Kanan said thoughtfully. “Some Jedi and Sith worlds had their names changed or were erased from records entirely. And others just faded into history.”

Nix considered that, then looked up with a spark of realization. “So Korriban might be in the database… just under a different name?”

Kanan nodded. “Possibly. But it's equally likely someone made sure that planet stayed lost.”

Ezra glanced at him, curious. “Why would—?”

“What are you all doing up so early?” Hera’s voice cut in as she entered the cockpit.

Kanan turned toward her and replied in his usual calm tone. “We’re trying to locate a planet Nix saw in a vision.”

Hera nodded, like she remembered something Kanan had told her earlier. But her face quickly turned serious. “That’ll have to wait. We just received a priority distress call. Come on, I’ll show you.”

She turned and briskly exited down the narrow hallway. Ezra and Sabine exchanged uncertain glances and followed her. Nix remained behind for a moment longer, her expression caught somewhere between disappointment and hope. Then she felt Ezra’s hand rest gently on her shoulder, a silent reassurance.

Ezra gave her a small, encouraging smile and said softly, “We’ll come back to this.”

He waited a moment longer, until Nix looked back at him and gave a slow nod. Then the two of them stepped out of the cockpit and walked quietly down the Ghost’s corridor toward the common room. The air between them felt unusually still, like they were both lost in thought, wondering what they might’ve uncovered if they’d just had a little more time. But those thoughts were quickly interrupted by Zeb’s loud grumbling echoing from the room ahead.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me… How’s a guy supposed to survive waking up this early?” Zeb groaned as he dropped heavily onto the couch next to Sabine and Kanan, who were already seated and watching Hera with quiet anticipation. Hera had taken the open seat across from them, and Ezra and Nix stayed by the door, close enough to hear everything clearly.

Hera leaned forward slightly, her expression serious as she looked around the room. “We received a transmission. It’s from Doctor Selene Koss.”

“Selene Koss?” Zeb frowned. “That Imperial scientist we pulled out of Taral?”

“Yeah,” Nix added thoughtfully. “I remember her. She helped us escape.”

“Exactly,” Hera confirmed. “From what I can tell, she returned to the Empire afterward. But something strange is going on, and now she’s asking for help.”

Hera activated the holoprojector at the center of the table. The lights dimmed, and the recording began to play. Selene appeared in the projection… disheveled, clearly exhausted. Her brown hair was pulled into a messy bun, and her eyes darted nervously offscreen, like she feared someone might be watching.

“I didn’t want to do this… I really tried to stay out of it,” she said, her voice tense and uneven. “But I don’t have a choice anymore. Going back to the Empire… that was a mistake. I think they know something. I’m afraid they figured out how I got off Taral… that someone helped me.”

She paused, wiping sweat from her forehead as she tried to gather her thoughts. “They transferred me to Naraka… there’s another secret research station here. I think they’re trying to restart the experiments they ran on Taral. I don’t know who knows what about me, but I’m scared. They might interrogate me…”

Her voice wavered, and her face shifted into a desperate expression. “Please, if you can… get me out. I don’t have anyone else I can trust. I’m begging you…”

The hologram flickered and then faded into silence. The room stayed quiet for a long moment as everyone absorbed her words.

“I’ve already spoken to Commander Sato,” Hera said calmly. “If we can secure an Imperial scientist, it could be a huge asset to the Rebellion. Sato agreed and we have the go-ahead for a rescue mission.”

Sabine frowned slightly, thoughtful but concerned. “Naraka’s a high-risk location. There’s a major Imperial detention facility and a research center there, both under heavy surveillance. Breaking into either won’t be easy.”

“Yeah,” Zeb grumbled, crossing his arms, “rescuing someone from an Imperial base? That’s not exactly a walk in the park.”

Ezra just smiled and folded his arms. “We got Hondo out of Naraka once, remember? If we could pull him out of their prison complex, sneaking into the science center and getting one scared scientist out shouldn’t be impossible.”

Kanan nodded, his voice calm and even. “Ezra’s right. It’s not something we haven’t faced before—just a slightly different target.”

Nix gave a small smile, her gaze meeting Ezra’s. She nodded in agreement. “At the very least, it’s a chance to repay her for helping us.”

Hera looked around the room, taking in the determination on each face. “Alright then. We’re doing this. But we’ll need a solid plan.”

The room fell into a brief contemplative silence before Hera straightened in her chair, her voice growing firmer.

“We’ve broken into Naraka’s prison before, but this time it’s a scientific facility—and we don’t have the luxury of detailed prep.”

“No kidding,” Zeb muttered. “Last time with Hondo, we at least had the prison schematics. And it still almost fell apart.”

Ezra gave him a crooked smile. “Yeah, but we pulled it off, didn’t we?”

“Barely,” Zeb shot back.

Sabine nodded, her expression serious. “Those schematics made all the difference. Without them, it would’ve been suicide. And this time… we’ll have to improvise.”

Hera paused, her eyes shifting to Nix. “If we can’t get the layout of the research center ahead of time, we’ll have to rely on infiltration.”

All eyes turned to Nix. She shifted slightly, feeling the weight of their attention, but she straightened her shoulders and kept her expression steady.

Hera continued, “You handled the infiltration on Ryloth well. If you’re up for it, I think you should go in again. And Ezra can go with you.”

Ezra nodded toward her, smiling. “I’m in.”

“Alright,” Nix said, a little taken aback, her usual confidence flickering just slightly. “What exactly are we supposed to do?”

“Get inside quietly,” Hera explained, bringing up a holographic image of the planet Naraka. “Once you’re in, locate a terminal and pull whatever schematics or base layout data you can. Send it back to us on an encrypted frequency. We’ll use that to plan your extraction. Meanwhile, find Doctor Koss and get her out. Preferably without setting off any alarms.”

Ezra frowned for a second before a more optimistic smile spread across his face. “Sounds easy enough, right?”

Sabine chuckled softly and shook her head. “Yeah, sure. Easy. Just another totally normal day for us.”

“What about the rest of us?” Zeb asked, clearly getting impatient.

Hera straightened, her voice firm and focused. “Once Ezra and Nix send us the schematics, we’ll be on standby as backup in case anything goes wrong. And if things go according to plan, we’ll rendezvous halfway and assist with the extraction.”

“Come on, Hera,” Ezra said lightly, a playful grin on his face, “when have our plans ever gone wrong?”

Hera gave him a knowing look, then began assigning tasks. “Zeb, take Chopper and do a thorough check of the Ghost before we go. Sabine, prep the false identities for Ezra and Nix. Kanan and I will go through the archives, see if we can find anything useful.”

Then she turned to Ezra and Nix. “In the meantime, you two can help Zeb with the ship inspection. We’re heading out soon.”

“Got it,” Ezra said, a note of determination in his voice.

Nix nodded. Despite a lingering sense of uncertainty, she was glad to be given the chance to prove herself again.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Zeb grunted as he stood up with a stretch and a final yawn. “Let’s move. Maybe I’ll actually wake up on the way.”

Zeb lazily stretched and lumbered toward the door, with Chopper trailing behind, chirping in his usual cranky tone. Ezra and Nix caught a final glance from Hera—serious but confident—before heading out of the Ghost as well. Around them, the ship was slowly coming to life with the familiar bustle of morning routines.

Chopper rolled out ahead of them and was already beeping status reports as he went, while Zeb moved to check the diagnostics panel near the cargo ramp. Ezra was making his way through the cargo hold, making sure everything was in place.

Nix took charge of the exterior systems check, moving along the outside of the Ghost and inspecting each panel with practiced eyes. There was something oddly comforting about it… normal, routine work that she’d slowly grown to appreciate. It was a calm contrast to her chaotic past.

“Hey, Chopper,” Ezra called out to the droid, who was zipping by. “Tell me you actually fixed the grav-stabilizers this time. I’d rather not have a repeat of last time.”

Chopper beeped indignantly, spinning his dome around in offense. Nix couldn’t help but smile.

“I think you trust Chopper way too much,” she remarked dryly, glancing sideways at Ezra.

“I just don’t want the hyperdrive to glitch out mid-jump again,” Ezra said with a laugh and shrugged. “Though, hey, we survived.”

“Barely,” Zeb muttered without looking up from the display. “If it’d been up to you, kid, they’d be scrapin’ us outta hyperspace with a vibrospatula. I reacted fast.”

“You? React fast?” Ezra shot him a smirk.

Chopper chirped a delighted beep, while Zeb looked up with mock offense. “Excuse me? I’ve got reflexes like a Loth-cat!”

“Yeah,” Nix added with a grin, “a really old and sleepy Loth-cat.”

Zeb rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, while Chopper gave an approving beep like he was finally included in the roast.

At that moment, Sabine appeared, striding toward them with a couple of datapads in hand. Identities are ready,” she announced briskly and handed one to each of them.

Nix skimmed through hers and tilted her head. “Doctor Rynn Zavros, specialist in genetic modification… That sounds fancy.”

Ezra raised an eyebrow at his own. “Doctor Felix Cedrax, xenobiology expert… Guess I’ll sound smart, at least.”

“Smarter than you look,” Zeb quipped, and Ezra shot him a glare before turning back to Sabine.

“So, what exactly do we do when we get there?” he asked.

“You can’t just walk through the front entrance,” Sabine explained. “That station’s under tight surveillance. Your best shot is finding a back access point or service tunnel. Take Chopper with you. He’ll patch your IDs and clearance codes into their system. Once you’re inside, act like you belong.”

Nix nodded, her expression turning serious as she glanced at Ezra. “Got it.”

Sabine gave them both a reassuring smile, though her tone was more solemn. “I know… but still, be careful, okay?”

Ezra nodded back, his voice steady. “Don’t worry, Sabine. We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Nix added, trying to mask her own nerves with a confident grin. “We’re professionals, remember?”

“That’s exactly what worries me,” Sabine said with a faint smirk, then looked to Chopper. “Come on, Chopper, time for your disguise. No pink this time, I promise.”

Chopper let out a series of grumpy beeps, but obediently rolled after her toward the ship’s interior. Ezra watched them go, shaking his head with a fond smile.

“I think pink suits him,” Ezra said with a smirk, turning back to Nix. “So? What do you think? Ready for another infiltration?”

“Always ready,” Nix replied, though her tone carried a faint hint of uncertainty. Ezra caught it and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine,” he said more quietly. “I’ve got your back, okay?”

Nix felt a warm flutter deep in her chest but quickly masked it with a smirk. “Sure… unless you screw it up.”

Ezra chuckled and bumped her shoulder lightly. “Getting cocky, Sith girl.”

Their banter was cut short by Zeb’s voice as he finished the last check and stretched with a satisfied grunt. “All set. Ghost won’t fall apart mid-flight… probably.”

“Thanks, Zeb,” Ezra called after him, watching the Lasat shuffle toward the ship.

Then he turned back to Nix and gave her a more serious look. “Don’t be afraid.”

She smiled at him and gave a slow nod. “I’m not,” she said softly.

As they passed by Sabine’s cabin on the way back inside, they spotted her working on Chopper. The droid was chirping excitedly, his dome spinning back and forth like he was admiring his new Imperial paint job. Sabine turned to them with a satisfied grin.

“What do you think?” she asked proudly, gesturing to Chopper.

Ezra nodded with an amused smile. “Yeah, he’s definitely gonna blend in.”

Nix gave an approving nod too, eyeing the disguise with interest. Sabine beamed and turned back to fine-tuning some last details. Ezra and Nix continued toward the cockpit, where Hera was already seated, double-checking the last system readings.

“All ready to go?” she asked without looking up.

“Ready when you are.” Ezra confirmed, smiling at her.

“Alright,” Hera said with a nod, switching over to the flight controls. “Strap in. We’re leaving.”

Ezra and Nix settled into the seating area of the common room just as the engines hummed to life. A soft vibration ran through the Ghost as the ship lifted off the ground and ascended smoothly into the skies above Atollon. Ezra glanced at Nix, who was deep in thought, then caught her eye. They both smiled, faint but genuine.

Zeb, lounging on the couch, let out a long yawn and sat up. “Okay, I’m getting something to eat,” he mumbled as he wandered toward the galley. The doors swished closed behind him, leaving Ezra and Nix alone.

Ezra sat down beside her, and for a while, they sat in a comfortable silence, the low hum of the hyperdrive and soft lighting creating a strangely calming atmosphere.

Their conversation drifted from past missions to strange things Nix had noticed since waking in this new time… little differences, surprises, things she was still getting used to.

Eventually, fatigue crept up on her. The last few days had worn her down, and though she tried to stay focused, her eyelids grew heavy.

She didn’t even realize when her head tilted slightly, resting against the back of the couch as Ezra continued to talk about an old mission on Lothal. Halfway through a sentence, he paused and glanced over… only to find Nix fast asleep.

He smiled softly, then sat quietly, letting her rest.

A few minutes later, Sabine entered the room with Chopper following close behind. “We’re all set,” she announced brightly. Then her eyes landed on Ezra waving subtly for quiet. Her gaze shifted and softened when she saw Nix sleeping.

“You really are boring,” she whispered teasingly.

Ezra grinned and shrugged. “Guess I talked her to sleep. But… she hasn’t been getting much rest lately.”

Sabine nodded, her expression growing a bit more thoughtful. She glanced around, then slowly walked over and sat on the other side of Nix. After a moment, she leaned in and gently nudged her.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” she whispered with a warm smile. “Mission’s calling.”

Nix flinched slightly and blinked her eyes open, disoriented. It took her a second to remember where she was. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“No big deal,” Sabine said gently. Then, leaning closer, she added, “Hey… I was thinking. If you want, you could move into my cabin. That way you won’t have to sleep out here.”

Nix blinked, surprised by the offer. “But… there’s only one bed in there.”

Sabine waved a hand like it was nothing. “I can fix that. If you want.”

“You’re serious?” Nix asked, a bit stunned, her voice quieter now.

“Totally serious,” Sabine said with a kind grin. “It’s about time you started feeling like you actually live here.”

“That would be… great,” Nix said, her voice quiet but sincere. She looked like she wanted to say something more, but before she could, the door slid open again. The room fell silent for a moment as Kanan stepped inside, his expression calm but unusually thoughtful.

“Nix,” he said quietly. “Can you come with me for a minute?”

Nix blinked in surprise, but nodded. “Sure,” she replied, standing up and following him. “Okay, seriously though… this much attention? I’m starting to feel like discount goods on the black market,” she muttered dryly.

They walked together down the corridor and into Kanan’s cabin. He rummaged under his bed for a moment before pulling out a small, elongated box. Carefully, he turned and held it out to her.

“I think it’s time,” he said simply, and handed her the box.

Nix opened the lid curiously… and gasped softly when she saw what was inside. It was her second lightsaber. The one Elkazar had given her after she’d completed the first part of her trials. She looked up at Kanan in surprise.

“I want you to have both your lightsabers,” he said gently. “They’re a part of you.”

“So…” she asked carefully, “Does this mean we're good now?”

Kanan hesitated for a moment before admitting, “There’s still a part of me that’s unsure. But I think you’ve earned enough of my trust.”

Emotion swelled in Nix’s chest, gratitude and something deeper tightening her throat. “Thanks, Kanan… It means a lot.”

He gave a small nod and took the now-empty box back from her hands. “Now go get ready. We’re almost there.”

Nix returned to the common room with a small but unmistakable smile on her lips. When she spotted Ezra and Sabine, she stopped in front of them and—with a spark in her eyes—detached the second saber from her belt.

“Look what I’ve got,” she announced with a hint of pride.

Sabine blinked in surprise before grinning. “Wait. Kanan actually gave it back?”

“Yeah,” Nix said, her voice bright with emotion.

Ezra nodded approvingly, smiling wide. “That’s gotta mean you convinced him. That’s awesome.”

“I don’t know about convinced,” Nix said with a soft chuckle as she clipped the saber back to her belt. “But hopefully we’re heading in the right direction. Anyway, he told me to get ready.”

Sabine nodded. “Right. You two should get changed.”

Ezra stood up, clearly not thrilled. “Alright then, Doctor Zavros,” he said with mock seriousness, giving her a little wink.

“After you, Doctor Cedrax,” Nix replied, matching his tone, and they both shared a quick laugh before Ezra headed toward his cabin.

Nix lingered for a second, still holding the folded beige Imperial uniform Sabine had given her earlier. She felt a strange blend of nerves and anticipation twisting in her stomach.

“Come on,” said a warm voice behind her. She turned to find Sabine smiling and nodding toward her cabin. “I’ll help you get ready. No need to change out here.”

Nix smiled gratefully. “Thanks,” she said, following her inside.

It was Nix’s first time in Sabine’s room. The walls were covered in bright murals and colorful sketches, with shelves stacked full of gadgets, art supplies, and unfinished projects.

“Sorry for the mess,” Sabine said with a grin, noticing Nix’s curious glance. “It’s usually organized chaos.”

“No, I like it,” Nix replied with a soft smile. “It actually looks like someone lives here.”

Sabine chuckled and gave a slight shrug. “Alright then. Let’s do this,” she said, motioning toward the uniform. “Hope I guessed your size right. Imperial tailoring isn’t exactly known for letting you express yourself.”

“The one I had on Ryloth wasn’t terrible,” Nix commented as she slowly shrugged off her black jacket.

Sabine sat down at her small desk and pretended to be busy with her datapad, giving Nix a bit of privacy. “I always hated these infiltration missions,” she said lightly. “You just feel… off, y’know?”

“Yeah. It’s weird,” Nix agreed, as she pulled on the stiff uniform. The fabric felt foreign on her skin, the collar uncomfortably tight. “I probably look ridiculous.”

Sabine glanced up and gave her a once-over, then smiled. “Actually… not bad. Just… hang on.”

She stood and stepped closer, adjusting the collar and brushing some of Nix’s hair back behind her shoulders. “There. That’s better.”

“Thanks,” Nix said quietly, their eyes meeting for a moment.

“No problem,” Sabine replied, then added with a touch of seriousness, “Just be careful, alright? And keep an eye on Ezra too. You know how he is… he tends to jump headfirst into trouble.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Nix said, her lips curling into a half-smile.

“Good,” Sabine nodded and stepped toward the door. “Now go, Doctor Zavros. Don’t keep your partner waiting.”

Nix gave a small smile and stepped out of Sabine’s cabin back into the hallway. As she made her way toward the common room, she saw Ezra already waiting there. Dressed in his uniform, he looked surprisingly serious… which felt a little odd to Nix, but also strangely comforting.

When he spotted her, he gave her a quick once-over and suppressed an amused grin. “Well… you definitely look like someone who could be doing genetic modifications.”

“Thanks, just what I needed to hear,” she replied with dry sarcasm, though a smile played on her lips. “If you weren’t a rebel, you might’ve had a bright future in the Empire.”

Ezra noticed that despite her smile, there was something tense about her. He stepped closer and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” he said quietly, reassuringly. “You okay? You seem a little on edge.”

Nix turned to face him, hesitating for a second before giving a small nod. “Maybe. I guess I’m just a little nervous. This is… technically our first mission just together.”

Ezra smiled and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, I guess it is. I’ve got your back, okay?”

His words sent a subtle warmth through her chest. She looked up at him, and this time, her smile was genuine and full of gratitude. “Thanks… Ezra.”

They stood in silence for a moment, before Ezra gestured toward her uniform. “You know, these uniforms have one big upside. They make it really easy to hide lightsabers… just in case. Not that I’m expecting trouble, but… maybe bring both. Might give you a little more confidence.”

“Alright,” Nix nodded with a small smile, already feeling a bit calmer. “Better to be ready for anything.”

Just then, Hera’s voice echoed through the intercom. “Dropping out of hyperspace.”

Both of them straightened slightly. Ezra drew in a breath and glanced at Nix. “We’re almost there. Ready?”

“Think so,” Nix answered, her voice more steady now. She looked at him and gave a soft, grateful smile. “Hey, Ezra?”

“Yeah?” he asked, turning toward her with a slight smile.

“You know… without you, I probably wouldn’t have lasted even a week here.” She nudged him lightly with her shoulder.

Ezra just smiled, his eyes flicking downward for a moment before meeting hers again. “You’re exaggerating.”

The ship gave a soft tremor as the Ghost slipped out of hyperspace, heading toward the planet Naraka, where their next mission was already waiting.

Chapter Text

The Ghost slowly approached Naraka. The planet’s surface was hidden beneath delicate layers of grayish clouds. From a distance, the planet looked like a somber, silent place. Nix stood in the middle of the common room, once again adjusting her Imperial uniform, frowning slightly as she straightened the collar. She didn’t want to admit it, but a strange sense of unease had settled inside her. It wasn’t that the mission itself frightened her… it was more the weight of the unknown, tightening like a coil around her chest.

Lost in thought, she reached absently into the pocket she usually wore on her belt and wrapped her fingers around a small, smooth object. A simple golden pendant, one she normally just kept tucked safely away. She wasn’t even sure why, but today she’d suddenly felt a near-irresistible urge to bring it with her. With a swift motion, she slipped it over her head and tucked it beneath the stiff collar of her uniform, where it rested coolly against her skin. It was irrational, but that tiny piece of metal gave her a subtle, grounding feeling she hadn’t realized she needed.

Ezra stood nearby, his face wearing a surprisingly calm expression. When he noticed Nix watching him, he smiled encouragingly.

“Have you finally stopped complaining about the uniform?” he teased lightly, his tone playful. “’Cause I think it actually suits you, Doctor.”

“Oh yes, and you look like someone who’s about to start writing tickets for illegally parked speeders,” Nix replied dryly, though the corner of her mouth twitched with amusement. “Start talking about how you’ve always had everything under control, and it’ll be perfect.”

Ezra just smirked, but before he could fire back a retort, a loud series of beeps interrupted them. Chopper rolled up, proudly spinning his dome as he showed off his freshly applied Imperial paint job.

“You too, Chopper. Looking sharp,” Nix said with an ironic smile.

“Oh come on, Chopper, you look great! Totally like a real Imperial droid,” Ezra laughed, patting the astromech on the dome before turning toward the open door leading to the cockpit. “Let’s go check in with Hera and Kanan.”

Nix nodded, and together they made their way down the short hallway past the crew quarters to the pilot’s cabin. Hera sat in the pilot’s chair, while Kanan stood behind her, arms crossed over his chest. When he heard them coming, he turned to face them.

“Alright,” Hera began in her usual calm but firm tone. “Let’s go over the plan one more time. Ezra, Nix, you two will enter through the ventilation shaft we located from orbit. It looks like no one really patrols that part of the base, but be mindful of security droids or cameras. Chopper will go with you, and once you’re inside, he’ll connect to the nearest terminal and insert your IDs. That should give you clearance to move freely around the facility and find Doctor Koss.”

Nix gave a slight nod, listening closely to every word. Ezra looked just as focused, though it was clear he wasn’t nearly as nervous as she was.

“Once you find her,” Hera continued, “contact us through Chopper’s encrypted channel. Ideally, you’ll extract her quietly and we’ll meet somewhere at a safe distance. But if things go wrong, Kanan, Sabine, and Zeb will be ready to back you up.”

Kanan gave a small nod and turned his face toward Ezra and Nix. “Just be careful. We have a backup plan but hopefully we won't need it.”

“Got it, Kanan,” Ezra replied with a calm smile. “We’ll be careful.”

Kanan actually smiled, a rare expression for him, and laid a hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “I know you will.”

“And try not to draw attention unless absolutely necessary,” Hera added. “And Chopper? Don’t set anything on fire this time.”

Chopper let out an indignant squawk, while the rest of the room chuckled quietly. Just as Ezra and Nix turned to leave, the door slid open and Sabine and Zeb walked in. Zeb grinned wide, mischief glinting in his eyes.

“So, off to play Imperial eggheads, huh?” he said. “If they catch you this time, don’t count on me. I’m tired of always having to save your butts.”

Ezra sighed and shook his head while Nix let out a dramatic sigh and replied with mock disappointment, “Aw, come on, Zeb. And here I was looking forward to being rescued by a mighty warrior like you.”

Zeb chuckled. “Alright, alright. But this is the last time.”

Sabine gave them a supportive smile and nodded. “Good luck. Let us know if anything goes sideways.”

“Thanks,” Nix said sincerely, and then, with Ezra and Chopper beside her, she headed back toward the cargo hold.

They exited the Ghost shortly after the ship slowed down to hover above a jagged area of rocky terrain, not far from the Imperial research facility. Ezra and Nix gave a quick nod to the others before jumping down. Their boots hit the hard, dust-covered ground with a quiet thud.

The Ghost slowly lifted off again, disappearing behind the jagged outcrops and leaving them alone in the quiet of Naraka. Nix took a deep breath before turning to Ezra.

“Ready?” she asked quietly.

Ezra gave her an encouraging smile and nodded. “Yeah. We’ve got this.”

Nix nodded back, doing her best to shake off the tight knot of unease in her chest. Because this time, she really was ready for anything.

Their target wasn’t far. Neither of them could tell exactly how long it took before they came to a stop and surveyed the research complex slowly emerging from the oppressive dusk of Naraka. At first glance, it didn't look particularly large… quite the opposite. The surface structure seemed modest, almost insignificant. A flat stretch of gray metal barely rising above the ground, as if the bulk of the facility had been buried deep beneath the planet’s crust.

“So, this is our destination,” Ezra muttered, narrowing his eyes slightly to see better in the low light.

“Yep. Looks very welcoming,” Nix replied dryly as she scanned the surroundings, eyes alert for any signs of security droids other security systems.

“Chopper,” Ezra motioned toward the astromech, “wait over there by the side entrance. We’ll get in through the shaft. Try not to draw attention until we can let you in from inside.”

“Can’t it be opened from outside?” Nix asked, a little uncertain.

“Not until Chopper links us into the system,” Ezra explained, nodding toward a small panel beside the secondary door. “See that access terminal? It’s card-only.”

Nix gave a silent nod as Chopper grumbled something and rolled toward the side entrance, hugging the wall of the building to stay out of sight. Meanwhile, Ezra and Nix crept toward a vent shaft he had spotted earlier… just like the one Hera had described.

“This way,” Ezra whispered, giving one last glance around. “Watch out for the cameras.”

Nix nodded, her eyes quickly locking on to the small, almost hidden surveillance cameras along the building’s edge. She and Ezra crouched behind a rocky outcropping, scanning the complex. The cameras rotated lazily, their beams sweeping across the empty landscape. No stormtroopers on patrol, no vehicles, no sound.

“This is weird,” Nix murmured. “It’s too quiet for a base this size.”

Ezra nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

They waited, watching the rhythm of the cameras until the coast was clear, then dashed silently across the open ground to the ventilation shaft.

Ezra knelt and quickly removed the cover. “Alright, ready to crawl a little? Hope you’re not claustrophobic.”

“Don’t worry,” Nix replied with a faint smirk. “But you go first, expert.”

Ezra sighed dramatically but shook his head with a smile and slipped inside.

Nix crouched by the entrance, peering into the darkness. The air was cold and metallic, tightening in her lungs. It wasn’t a pleasant space but it wasn’t unfamiliar either. With a breath, she slid in behind him and gently closed the hatch behind her.

The shaft was tight and uncomfortably cold. More than once they had to twist around narrow bends, their uniforms scraping against the sharp edges with a harsh metallic rasp. The air was stale and filled with the musty scent of old metal and dust, irritating her throat with every breath.

As they crawled past a particularly narrow bend, Ezra froze. “Do you hear that?” he whispered.

Nix held her breath. From deeper within the shaft came a faint, rhythmic mechanical clicking, but too muffled to identify.

“Maybe… just maintenance?” she tried to reassure herself, but the chill crawling down her spine said otherwise.

After several minutes of slow, cautious crawling—every groan of the metal seeming far too loud—Ezra finally stopped and pointed toward a vent grate below them.

“Looks like we found our way in,” he whispered, gently lifting the grate. Below was an empty corridor, lit dimly by pale gray neon light.

Ezra leaned out to get a better view. The air below was heavy and sweet, saturated with the scent of disinfectant and something that smelled faintly of ozone. The silence was nearly total. Only a faint hum of machinery reminded them that the facility was even active. No footsteps, no voices. Just that unsettling, absolute stillness.

“No one’s here. Let’s go,” he whispered to Nix and dropped down quietly.

She hesitated for a second, then followed him. The corridor felt deserted. No movement, no sound.

“What now?” Nix asked quietly.

“We go get Chopper,” Ezra whispered, and the two of them headed swiftly toward the side entrance.

As they made their way through the corridor, they spotted a pair of Imperial troopers passing on the opposite side. Both of them froze for a second, but the troopers didn’t spare them a second glance and just kept walking lazily down the hall, completely absorbed in their routine.

“They seem a little too relaxed,” Nix whispered, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “Like they’re on vacation.”

“And I really don’t like that,” Ezra added under his breath as they reached the side entrance. “Just act like you’ve been working here for years.”

He tapped at the small terminal for a moment until the lock gave a quiet click and the door slid open. Chopper, who’d been waiting outside, beeped irritably and rolled in quickly.

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that long,” Ezra muttered sarcastically.

Chopper answered with an annoyed chirp, and Ezra just rolled his eyes as they made their way back down the corridor.

“Now we need a terminal that doesn’t just control doors,” Nix murmured, glancing around.

“We’ll pass through a few halls… there’s gotta be one somewhere. Just keep it low-key,” Ezra whispered back.

After a few minutes of quiet walking through the complex’s sterile halls, they came upon a small break room, clearly meant for staff downtime. There were tables, a few chairs, a kitchenette and most importantly, a terminal tucked away in the corner.

“Perfect,” Ezra whispered. “Chopper, go.”

The droid chirped eagerly and immediately rolled over, inserting his data spike into the terminal’s port. Ezra and Nix stayed near the doorway, watching the corridor carefully in case anyone came by.

“Done yet?” Nix asked impatiently after a moment.

Chopper grumbled something, but a second later a green light blinked on. He let out a cheerful beep, signaling that their IDs were now fully integrated.

“Awesome,” Ezra said with relief. “Now all that’s left is to find Doctor Koss.”

“Yeah,” Nix nodded, determined. “The sooner we find her, the sooner we get out of this hole.”

They exchanged a quick look and headed back into the halls of the research complex, focused on completing their mission as quickly—and quietly—as possible.

The corridors stretched on in a strange, dead silence. The lights overhead flickered faintly, as if even they couldn’t push away the overwhelming sense of grayness that permeated the place. Nix walked beside Ezra, hands clasped behind her back, shoulders squared in an effort to look like a confident, competent Doctor Zavros. Ezra, holding a datapad he’d picked up from one of the lounge chairs, glanced at it every so often, pretending to review something… just a small gesture that might help sell the illusion to anyone watching.

As they turned a corner, they passed a trio of stormtroopers who didn’t even look at them and just kept walking with bored expressions and sluggish steps. Nix and Ezra stayed calm and kept walking, like it was just another day on the job.

“Did you notice how they avoid eye contact?” Nix muttered once they were out of earshot. “Like they’re scared we might talk to them.”

Ezra nodded slightly, his jaw tightening. “Yeah. It’s like they don’t want to be here at all.”

Before they could say anything else, another pair of people appeared at the end of the hallway: a man and a woman, both in white lab coats. The man was tall and thin, with sharp cheekbones and messy light brown hair that fell into his eyes. The woman had short-cropped blonde hair, angular features, and a distant look, like her mind was somewhere else entirely. They walked in silence, eyes down, seemingly trying not to draw attention.

Nix made a quick decision and stepped into their path with a friendly, businesslike tone. “Excuse me… have either of you seen Doctor Selene Koss? She was supposed to be working with me in Section C today.”

They both stopped for a moment. The man glanced briefly at his colleague, and after a short pause, the woman answered cautiously, “No… I haven’t seen her today. But maybe she’s in her office…”

“Thanks,” Nix said with polite gratitude, as if it was a completely normal question. “And where would that be?”

“Down in Wing E. Second floor,” the woman replied quietly before quickly hurrying off, pulling the man along with her. Neither of them looked back.

Ezra leaned slightly toward Nix with a crooked smile. “That was pretty convincing, Doctor Zavros.”

“Convincing is kind of my thing,” Nix whispered back, a brief flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Let’s go.”

They headed toward Wing E, just as they’d been told. The corridors they passed were clean, sterile, and unsettlingly empty. Now and then they saw a researcher or two, but everyone avoided eye contact. The place felt like it wasn’t fully awake yet… as if the entire facility was waiting for something to happen.

When they reached the office, the door was slightly ajar. Nix gently pushed it open and stepped inside. The room was small but cozy: windowless walls, soft lighting, a simple desk with two chairs, a terminal, and several datapads scattered around. On a shelf stood a small flower, already starting to wilt. A photo lay on the desk, showing a smiling Selene Koss hugging a little girl and a bearded man standing beside them, his hand resting on the doctor’s shoulder.

Nix paused by the photo, gazing at it for a moment before quietly saying, “I think I get why she wants to leave this place.”

“We’ll get her out,” Ezra replied softly as he walked over to the desk. The room breathed a strange mix of personal life and corporate sterility. On one side, the photo and the withering flower; on the other, the cold terminal and stacks of bureaucratic documents.

Nix glanced around, trying to find anything that might tell them more about the doctor. This space was just another reminder that the Empire swallowed up people’s lives, no matter how polished it tried to appear.

As Ezra paced slowly across the room, Nix suddenly felt a familiar tingling in her throat. She quickly turned away and coughed into her hand, doing her best to muffle the sound. When she pulled her hand back, she froze for a second. A few small drops of blood glistened between her fingers. Again, flashed through her mind, remembering the exact same thing happening on Malachor a few days ago, when she'd been able to blame it on the dust. Her heart skipped a beat.

Before Ezra could notice, she quickly wiped her hand on the dark fabric of her pants. There was no time to deal with this now. And definitely no time to burden him with it.

“What if we waited for her here for a bit?” Ezra suggested after a moment.

Nix nodded but then pointed at the terminal. “Maybe we could check where she is. Perhaps she’s in the lab or has any appointments logged.”

Ezra stepped closer and tried to bring the terminal to life. “Locked. Chopper?”

The droid gave a low grumble and connected to the port. After a few seconds, there was a quiet click, and the terminal lit up.

Nix sat down, and Ezra stood behind her as they both watched the screen fill with folders of scientific data, research schedules, and spreadsheets. After a few moments of digging, Nix found a relatively fresh entry: a summons for questioning. It was written in sterile, bureaucratic language and marked with the Imperial seal.

“Doctor Selene Koss is hereby ordered to report immediately for questioning regarding possible assistance to rebel elements. Location: Secure Sector B-12, Sublevel 6. Time: 0400 standard time. Order confirmed and approved by Internal Security Officer.”

Ezra’s face darkened. “That’s not a regular meeting. That’s serious trouble.”

Nix nodded quietly. “Sounds like it. But that’s not going to stop us, right?”

They fell silent for a moment. Then Ezra said firmly, “We’re not leaving her. We’re getting her out, no matter what.”

Nix stood, her expression steady and resolute. “I agree.”

Ezra paused, as if something had just occurred to him. “We should probably let the others know. This is getting messier than we thought.” He turned to the droid. “Chopper, open a secure channel to the Ghost.”

Chopper beeped affirmatively, and within seconds, the room filled with soft static that quickly gave way to Hera’s voice. “Ghost here, go ahead.”

Nix smiled and leaned toward Chopper. “This is Shorty-1, looks like things are getting a little complicated—”

“Shorty-1?” Ezra cut in, unable to hold back a laugh.

Nix chuckled with him. “What? I never got a callsign, and I’m not gonna step on your comms.”

Ezra shook his head with a quiet sigh as his mind returned to the situation. He responded in a calm but tense tone, “Spectre-6. We found something that changes the plan. According to the terminal, the Empire may already know she helped us. Looks like she’s being interrogated right now… and probably in danger. Be ready in case this goes sideways. We’ll call if we need to.”

There was a pause before Hera answered quickly, “Understood Spectre-6. We’ll be ready. Do you think you could—” but her voice was suddenly cut off by loud crackling, which quickly dissolved into pure static.

Chopper let out a frustrated screech, muttering something about outdated hardware. Ezra gave a tense shrug. “Comms are down. I hope they’re okay… I really don’t like this.”

Nix looked at him with a reassuring expression and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “They’re fine. But we should move.”

Ezra gave a brief nod and added with determination, “I wouldn’t count on getting that link back, so we’re on our own now.”

“Well, that just makes it more exciting,” Nix replied confidently, flashing a quick smile. “We’ve got this.”

They shared one last determined look, and then all three—Nix, Ezra, and Chopper—left the small office and headed toward Secure Sector B-12, Sublevel 6.

They moved through the facility with a confidence that was only skin-deep. Ezra continued to glance at his datapad every now and then, pretending to be checking something important, while Nix marched ahead with mock seriousness, quietly whistling a cheerful tune. Chopper followed close to their heels, grumbling to himself but staying dutifully in formation.

As they passed through another corridor, Ezra suddenly motioned for them to stop. Two stormtroopers were walking casually at the far end, deep in hushed conversation. Ezra and Nix pretended to be engrossed in a serious discussion while Chopper hugged the wall like he was part of the facility’s infrastructure. The troopers passed without a second glance, their voices fading into the distance.

“This is going suspiciously smooth,” Ezra murmured under his breath as they continued forward.

“Maybe we’re just lucky,” Nix whispered back, offering him a brief smile.

Eventually, they reached a lift that would take them to the lower levels. Ezra pressed the button and glanced at Chopper. “Do we even have clearance for Section B-12?”

Chopper beeped sharply, spreading his arms in exaggerated exasperation, like he was offended by the mere question. Ezra chuckled and shook his head. “Alright, alright. Forgot I was talking to the expert.”

The lift arrived and the doors opened. They stepped inside, and Ezra swiped his card at the terminal, quickly selecting Sublevel 6. The ride down was silent, tension quietly building between them.

When the lift finally stopped, the doors opened onto a short corridor that ended in a set of heavy, imposing doors with no side exits.

Ezra stepped forward and scanned his card at the wall terminal. With a soft hiss and a click, the doors slid open.

Nix took a deep breath before they stepped inside.

The room was almost too quiet. No hum of ventilation systems, no buzz of machinery… just a suffocating silence that immediately set them on edge.

Their eyes were drawn instantly to a lone chair positioned under a sterile spotlight. Doctor Selene Koss sat slumped in it, bound and clearly in rough shape. Her head hung low, long dark hair hiding her face. Her body sagged forward like she was struggling to stay conscious.

“Doctor Koss!” Ezra rushed forward.

Selene slowly raised her head. Her face was pale and exhausted, a dark bruise blooming on her cheek, dried blood crusted on her lip. Despite it all, a faint smile touched her lips when she recognized them. “You… you’re here…?”

Nix hurried to her side, crouching to meet her gaze. “Yes, we’re here. Are you alright?”

Selene drew a shaky breath, searching for the right words before slowly shaking her head. “No… You have to go. Now.”

Ezra reached to unlock her restraints. “We’re not leaving without you.”

Selene shut her eyes for a moment, her voice weak but insistent. “No… you don’t understand.”

Both Ezra and Nix paused, the only sound in the room the doctor’s ragged breathing.

The air shifted… became heavy. The walls felt like they were closing in, and the muted light overhead seemed to dim into something colder, darker. A chill crept down Nix’s spine. This silence wasn’t empty. It was watching them, waiting.

Why hadn’t anyone stopped them yet? Why had everything gone so smoothly? And that’s when it hit her: something was very wrong.

Before any of them could react, a slow, mocking clap echoed from the shadows at the far end of the poorly lit room.

A tall man stepped forward from the darkness. His jet-black hair was neatly cropped on one side, the other side of his head shaved. His well-groomed beard framed sharp features, and he wore sleek, mirrored goggles that obscured his eyes… yet there was no doubt he was watching them closely. He moved with a mechanical elegance, calm and precise.

“Bravo,” he drawled, his voice cold and amused. He stopped clapping and smirked. “I knew you’d show up the moment your little doctor called for help.”

Nix didn’t hesitate. In one fluid motion, she slipped both of her lightsabers from beneath her Imperial coat and ignited them. Red and violet blades snapped to life, casting strange, flickering shadows across the sterile walls.

“Who the hell is that?” she hissed to Ezra, taking a defensive step back.

Ezra’s own lightsaber ignited with a sharp hum. “Inquisitor,” he said grimly, tension crackling in his voice.

The Inquisitor approached them with deliberate calm, hands clasped behind his back, as if he were taking a stroll at a formal parade.

“I knew your little group wouldn’t resist a cry for help,” he said slowly, quietly, with a cold undertone in his voice. “I’m so glad you came.”

Ezra took a hesitant step back, raising his lightsaber slightly into a defensive stance. “You’ve got us. But Doctor Koss has nothing to do with this. Let her go.”

The Inquisitor stopped, tilted his head, and with a sinister smirk slowly reached behind his back where his lightsaber was clipped.

“Nothing to do with this? Oh no, little Jedi,” he said with a tone that almost sounded amused, though the ice underneath was unmistakable. “Doctor Koss was quite helpful in arranging your arrival. She was a key part of my little experiment.”

His gaze landed on the suffering woman. “You see, I’ve done my research. You can’t stand watching innocent people suffer. And Doctor Koss, with her recent rebel ties, was the perfect bait. Her pain… was a necessary investment.”

Without warning, he turned and ignited one side of his double-bladed lightsaber. The red blade hissed as it pierced straight through Doctor Koss’s chest. She let out a faint cry before collapsing forward in her restraints.

“No!” Ezra shouted, while Nix simply tightened her grip on both lightsabers, eyes locked on the Inquisitor.

Expressionless, he withdrew the blade and turned back toward them. “And now I have another Jedi in my grasp,” he said with mock interest, the lenses of his glasses glinting as they focused directly on Ezra. “And your Master can’t be far behind, can he, Bridger? Looks like the whole family’s coming together today.”

In that instant, a dull thud echoed from the darkness behind them, followed by the rhythmic clicking of machinery. A squad of elite troopers in black armor emerged from the shadows, their gear glinting in the low light. Ezra and Nix instinctively drew close to one another as several troopers raised electrobatons, and the rest took aim with blasters, slowly closing in around them.

“Handle the troopers. I’ll take him,” Ezra whispered to Nix before leaping straight at the Inquisitor, who was already waiting.

Nix didn’t hesitate for a second. Her lightsabers spun into a deadly arc as she launched herself into combat with the troopers. They tried to overwhelm her with numbers, closing in fast, but she was quicker than they expected. Still, the fight wasn’t easy. Every swing of their electrobatons threatened to stun her, and the blaster fire forced her to split her focus between dodging and parrying.

Meanwhile, Ezra was locked in a fierce duel with the Inquisitor. His green blade clashed repeatedly with red as the Inquisitor pressed him with terrifying calm. Every move was calculated, every strike meant to wear him down.

“I do hope your friends on the Ghost received the warning,” the Inquisitor said coolly during a flurry of strikes, causing Ezra to hesitate.

“What are you talking about?” Ezra shouted, barely managing to deflect the next blow.

The Inquisitor’s smirk deepened. “You think the comm interference was an accident? That was me. And it wasn’t just sabotage, Jedi. I’ve studied your group: your rescue patterns, your heroic impulses. I knew you'd fly straight toward my little ‘distress signal.’ I even added a few extra details to your message... like a warning that you were walking into a trap.”

Ezra launched himself forward, but the Inquisitor parried the strike with disturbing ease.

“Too bad I sent them to the opposite side of the facility,” the Inquisitor added. “Where they’re already being welcomed properly.”

Ezra’s face paled as dread settled in. “Nix!” he yelled, “Kanan, Sabine, Zeb. We need to help them!”

Nix kicked one of the troopers back and turned to him, breathing heavily. “What?!”

“It’s a trap!” Ezra shouted in panic. “They’re all in danger!”

The Inquisitor gave a low chuckle and stepped toward them, his blade ready. “Oh yes… they truly are.”

Nix deflected another strike and hissed over her shoulder, “Maybe he’s bluffing. Trying to throw us off.”

“And what if he’s not?!” Ezra snapped, anger and fear tangled in his voice. He struck again, hard, forcing the Inquisitor to retreat a step. “Nix, they’re our friends, our family! We can’t take that chance!”

The fight grew more intense with every second, each clash of lightsabers or electrobatons echoing off the walls like distant thunder. Ezra struggled to keep up with the Inquisitor’s relentless assault. Every strike pushed him further back, his defenses faltering, his focus slipping with every breath.

Nix, meanwhile, dealt with the last of the troopers, knocking his weapon from his hands with a swift blow. A moment later, a powerful kick sent him crashing into the wall, where he collapsed in a heap. As she caught her breath, she saw Ezra go flying from a heavy hit, slamming into the floor with a pained grunt.

"Ezra!" Nix shouted, fury blazing in her eyes. She extended her palm and hurled a powerful wave of the Force at the Inquisitor, knocking him aside. He twisted midair, landing in a smooth flip… almost as if he had expected the move.

She rushed to Ezra, who was struggling to rise, his face twisted in pain. "Are you okay? You need to go!" she said firmly. "You have to help the others. I’ll hold him off!"

Ezra looked at her in disbelief, torn. “But… what if he’s bluffing?” he asked, his voice cracking as he echoed her earlier doubt.

Their eyes met. There was no hesitation in Nix’s gaze now, only steely resolve. “And what if he’s not?”

Those words hit Ezra like a physical blow. Before he could say anything more, the Inquisitor lunged forward. Nix stepped in, blocking the deadly strike with her violet blade and shoving Ezra toward the exit.

“Don’t make me beg, Bridger!” she shouted. “Go save their asses! I’ve got this!”

Ezra hesitated only a moment longer. His face filled with pain… not from the wounds, but from the choice. Then, with a final glance at her, he turned and ran toward the lift, Chopper racing after him.

Nix didn’t look back. All her focus was on the Inquisitor now. Her blades moved like a storm, switching between wild strikes and precision jabs. Her unorthodox style caught the Inquisitor off guard. For the first time, he was forced to backpedal.

“That was a noble gesture for your friend,” he said, breathless and mocking. “Almost touching.”

“Shut up,” Nix hissed, her eyes flashing as she drove him back even harder.

The Inquisitor suddenly pulled away and raised his left hand. It looked normal… until he tapped a small embedded switch. The glint of metal made it clear: cybernetics.

“Let’s see how you handle this,” he sneered.

Nix opened her mouth for a sarcastic remark, but didn’t get the chance. A bolt of invisible energy surged from him, slamming into her body like a tidal wave of pain. Her scream tore through the air as the agony pierced her mind like icy needles. Something primal and terrifying stirred inside her… something she had buried deep.

Her lightsabers clattered to the floor, deactivating on impact. Her legs buckled and she dropped to her knees, shaking violently.

She screamed again, this time louder, rawer… no ordinary scream but a ripple in the Force, a burst of destructive energy. Lightning sparked around her, jumping across her body like a living storm, fed by her agony. She clutched her head, unable to think, unable to breathe, consumed by the unbearable pain.

The Inquisitor flinched, caught off guard by the power of the outburst. He raised his lightsaber defensively as the lightning surged toward him. Even with his strength and training, he struggled to withstand the wave, forced to brace himself against the floor.

Nix writhed on the ground, still screaming, the Force radiating from her in violent, uncontrolled pulses. Her cries were pure torment, echoing off the walls in shrieking waves. She was no longer aware of Ezra, or the fight, or even the Inquisitor. There was only pain.

Slowly, the Inquisitor stepped closer, expression twisted into a satisfied smirk.

“How pitiful,” he said, voice calm and cruel. “I expected more from you.”

But Nix barely heard him. The only thing she could feel was the agony consuming her. The light was fading, and all that remained was darkness… and the sneering shadow of the Inquisitor, the last thing she saw before it swallowed her whole.

Chapter Text

Ezra ran through the narrow, dimly lit corridor, his heart pounding in rhythm with panic surging through his veins. The walls of polished, dark metal reflected the faint red glow of the emergency lights. A lingering smell of ozone and cleaning agents hung in the air, unable to mask the sterile, lifeless chill of the place. Each of his footsteps echoed unnaturally loud in the silence.

Over and over, the last image of Nix flashed before his eyes: the look she gave him, full of fear, determination, and the aching finality of a goodbye. Despair clenched his chest. He felt like he had failed her, like he had left her to face the Inquisitor alone. And yet, he knew he had no choice. He had to warn the others. Kanan, Sabine, and Zeb were in danger.

“Come on, Chopper!” he shouted toward the droid who was hiding behind the corner, and together they rushed into the lift.

The doors slid shut with a soft hiss, and for a moment, Ezra leaned heavily against the cold wall, his breath ragged. He tried to calm down, to steady his breathing, but it didn’t help. Even through the metal, he could feel a looming darkness in the Force, growing stronger with every passing second.

Then it hit him: he had no idea where exactly the others were. The Inquisitor could’ve been bluffing. What if this was just another layer of manipulation? What if his friends weren’t in danger at all?

“Chopper,” he turned toward the droid, his voice slightly shaky. “Try to reach the Ghost again. Maybe the jamming’s weakened.”

Chopper beeped irritably, clearly annoyed by yet another change of plans, but obediently extended his small communication antenna. Seconds passed like an eternity, and then came a burst of loud static, followed by a faint, distant crackle.

“This is Spectre-6!” Ezra shouted urgently into the noise. “It’s a trap! Come in!”

More static answered him, as if the signal was on the verge of cutting out completely. Ezra clenched his fists and shouted again. “Come in! It’s—”

“—Ghost here!” came Hera’s voice at last, faint but clear. “I hear you, Spectre-6, but barely. What’s going on down there?”

Ezra exhaled with relief and quickly explained everything. “It was a trap! We walked right into it. Doctor Koss is dead! The Inquisitor killed her… I managed to escape, but Nix stayed behind to fight him. Where are the others?”

The interference intensified for a second, threatening to cut the signal entirely. But then Hera’s voice returned, a little stronger this time. “We managed to intercept some internal communications from the complex. I sent backup to meet you.”

Ezra’s relief twisted into a new wave of dread. “I think the Inquisitor tampered with those transmissions. It might be another trap. No one came to help us. How long ago did you send them? Where did they go?”

There was a pause filled only with static before Hera’s voice returned, now laced with tension. “The message included a map of the facility and intel about a trap supposedly meant for the two of you. I’m sending it to you now.”

“Okay,” Ezra gasped. “I’ll make my way over there. Try to reach them and warn them!”

“I’ll try,” Hera said, but her voice was already fading. “Stay safe, Ezra.”

And then the connection dropped completely. Silence took over again, broken only by the faint, monotonous hum of the lift shaft… a reminder of the cold, unfeeling machinery that surrounded them.

Ezra looked down at Chopper, who immediately projected a holomap of the facility. Ezra scanned it quickly, eyes darting over the layout until he found the marked area where Kanan, Sabine, and Zeb were headed.

“This doesn’t look good,” Ezra muttered to himself, his stomach twisting with anxiety. He cast one last glance over his shoulder, as if somehow hoping that Nix would miraculously appear beside him. But the shaft behind him remained silent and empty.

“We gotta move,” he said firmly. “Hope we’re not too late.”

The lift doors finally opened after what felt like forever, and Ezra hesitated. He took a deep breath, every terrible possibility flashing through his mind. He shook his head, forcing the thoughts away. Not again. He wouldn’t fail this time. Clutching his lightsaber tighter, he stepped out, Chopper close behind.

Ezra ran down the long corridor, his thoughts a frantic storm. Kanan, Sabine, Zeb… were they okay? Had they received his warning in time? And Nix… her final words echoed in his mind like an unrelenting drumbeat: ‘Go save their asses! I’ve got this!’ The memory of the resolve in her eyes hit him like a blade to the chest.

Chopper rolled ahead of him, grumbling softly as he led the way. The droid’s movement was swift and confident, allowing both of them to keep going without pause, but even so, the path felt endless to Ezra. Every second, every step felt like a dangerous delay.

He strained to hear any sound that could cut through the oppressive silence of the facility. Chopper let out a low beep, as if he too sensed the growing tension. Then, suddenly, faint sounds echoed from the distance: blaster fire and the unmistakable crackle of electro-batons. A fight.

“Chopper, this way!” Ezra shouted, and they sprinted toward the noise.

As they rounded the corner, Ezra froze for a second. His heart stuttered at the sight in front of him. They had reached a large control center, and his friends were in trouble. Kanan stood at the center of the chaos, his blue lightsaber a blur as it deflected a hail of red bolts with sparks and hissing energy. Zeb, braced against one of the control terminals, fought off two elite troopers with his bo-rifle. Sabine was pinned behind a toppled table, barely able to peek out and fire off precise shots from her blasters. They were holding their ground, but only just.

“Nice of you to finally show up!” Sabine shouted when she spotted him.

Ezra didn’t wait. He ignited his green lightsaber and jumped straight into the fray. The troopers' surprise gave him the moment he needed. He raised a hand and sent a shockwave through the Force, hurling two of the attackers aside and giving Zeb much-needed breathing room.

“Yeah, I was starting to think you were gonna leave all the work to us!” Zeb growled while immediately using the opening to his advantage. One powerful strike knocked one trooper to the floor and hurled the other straight toward Kanan.

Ezra’s arrival changed the tide of the battle. Now he and Kanan fought back-to-back, their blades weaving a deadly dance of green and blue. Kanan focused on defense, his movements controlled and precise, blocking blaster fire with practiced ease. Ezra was fast, aggressive, targeting the weak points in the black trooper armor.

The shift gave Sabine the chance she needed. She darted from cover, tossed a small explosive, and it detonated at the feet of a cluster of enemies. Her blasters followed, taking down a trooper trying to flank them.

Zeb wasn’t on the defensive anymore. With a loud roar, he charged forward like a landslide, his bo-rifle smashing through armor and bone with brutal force. One last trooper turned his blaster toward Kanan, but before he could fire, Ezra’s green blade slashed through him from behind. The trooper crumpled to the ground with a hiss and a thud.

Silence fell, broken only by the group’s heavy breathing. Ezra deactivated his lightsaber, the adrenaline draining from his body, leaving his limbs shaky with fatigue. Only then did he turn to Kanan.

“You guys alright?” he asked breathlessly, though his mind was still scattered with worry.

“We’re okay,” Kanan replied calmly, though the strain on his face showed how hard the fight had been. “What happened, Ezra? We thought you were caught in a trap.”

Ezra exhaled deeply, his expression dark with grief and dread. “We were. The Inquisitor was waiting for us. Doctor Koss is dead… he killed her. And Nix stayed behind to hold him off so I could come warn you.” His voice wavered. “But… now we have no way to contact her. If she’s in trouble, she’s on her own.”

“Nix stayed behind alone?” Sabine asked, concern flashing in her eyes.

Ezra just nodded again, fists clenched tightly. “The Inquisitor told us everything… his whole plan and… Nix told me to go help you…”

“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Sabine interrupted. “We came to save you guys from a trap… and walked into another trap?”

Ezra nodded grimly. “I think the Inquisitor planned all of it.”

At that exact moment, the lights throughout the complex flickered in a sharp, unsettling burst, and Ezra felt a sudden wave of dread slash through his mind like a blade.

“Nix…” he whispered, barely audible, as if the name itself had struck him to the core. “She’s in trouble…”

Kanan turned to him, his face tense as he heard the change in Ezra’s voice. “Are you sure?”

Ezra closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. “I don’t know… but something’s wrong. I have to go back for her.”

None of the others hesitated, not even for a second. Sabine quickly reloaded her blasters, Zeb tightened his grip on the bo-rifle, and Kanan gave a firm nod, his expression filled with determination.

“Well, let's move it then,” Zeb grunted, already poised to move out.

Ezra looked around at his friends, and for a moment, a strange mix of gratitude and fear washed over him. He knew he wasn’t alone… but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he might be putting them all in danger again. He drew in a deep breath and pushed the fear down, letting determination rise up in its place.

As he stepped forward, every stride felt heavier than the last. Even though his friends walked beside him, he felt oddly detached: like a part of him was already somewhere else. He didn’t register their movement, didn’t speak. His gaze was locked straight ahead, and his fingers clenched tightly around the hilt of his lightsaber.

“This is Spectre-5,” Sabine spoke into her commlink, her voice calm, but to Ezra, it sounded far away, almost unreal. “Threat neutralized. Ezra’s back with us. We’re heading to help Nix.”

“Copy that, Spectre-5,” Hera’s voice came through right away, steady but carrying a hint of worry. “Be careful. Ghost standing by.”

“Thanks, Ghost,” Sabine murmured, and shut the channel.

Zeb noticed Ezra’s grim expression and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. “Chin up, kid. That girl knows how to take care of herself.”

Ezra shook his head slightly, his voice tight with unease. “I know… but this Inquisitor… he wasn’t like the others. It was like he knew exactly what we’d do, like he had the whole thing planned out.”

Kanan gave a slow nod, saying nothing. His silence unsettled Ezra more than any words could have.

“So… what actually happened down there?” Zeb asked after a beat, his voice softer than usual.

Ezra sighed, as though even thinking about that dark room drained the strength from his body. “We thought they were interrogating Doctor Koss because they suspected her of helping us… but when we got there, the Inquisitor was already waiting. She tried to warn us, but…” His voice broke off, face tightening in pain. “We couldn’t save her…”

“Ezra,” Kanan said gently, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “It was a trap from the very beginning. That Inquisitor had all the cards. Don’t blame yourself for how he played the game.”

“I know, but Nix—” Ezra began, only to falter.

“You both had to make a split-second decision. Nix made hers, and you made yours,” Kanan said firmly. “In that kind of situation, there’s no right or wrong choice. There’s only the one you make. And you live with it.”

Silence fell like a curtain. No one spoke, because there was nothing to say. They all understood the weight Ezra was carrying, and they knew words wouldn’t lighten it.

As they continued down the corridor, Ezra suddenly slowed, unease creeping into his voice. “Wait. Doesn’t this seem off to you? We haven’t run into anyone this whole time.”

Zeb frowned and looked around as well. The overhead lights glowed perfectly, reflecting off a floor so clean it could’ve passed for a display model. And yet that very perfection—the sterile, untouched quality of the space—was the most unsettling part. No footsteps, no voices, not even the hum of active machinery. The whole complex felt… dead.

“He’s right,” Sabine said quietly, her voice taut. “It’s weird. No guards, no scientists, nothing at all.”

Ezra glanced toward Chopper, who gave a soft, uncertain beep but offered no explanation. A chill ran down Ezra’s spine as the stillness pressed in from all sides.

“But we don’t have time to stop here,” Sabine added after a beat, though she was clearly just as rattled as Ezra.

Their pace quickened. Every footstep echoed louder, every breath seemed shorter, and the tension in the air grew thicker with each hallway they crossed. Ezra’s breath came in short, sharp bursts, the cold air stinging his lungs. Something deep inside screamed that they were too late, that something terrible had already happened. He shook his head, trying to banish the thought, but it clung to him like fog.

The group pressed on in silence, drawn forward by the building tension that wrapped around them like a storm about to break. Ezra’s throat felt dry, and every second stretched out painfully long.

When Ezra reached the familiar lift that led down to Sublevel 6, a cold sweat broke out across his back. The hand he raised toward the call button trembled noticeably.

“This is it,” Ezra said quietly, and with effort, pressed the button. The moment before the lift arrived felt unbearably long. Every second dragged out like an eternity, each new thought darker and more painful than the last. When the doors finally opened, they all stepped in without a word, and the lift began its slow descent.

Ezra’s breath came faster. In his mind, he replayed their last encounter with the Inquisitor over and over, determined not to be caught off guard again. His grip tightened around his lightsaber, ready to ignite it at the slightest sign of danger. But when the lift finally stopped and the doors hissed open, the hallway beyond remained shrouded in that same lifeless silence. No sounds of fighting, no screams, no trace of anyone. Ezra closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to calm his breath, and then stepped forward with deliberate effort.

“Something’s wrong,” he murmured almost inaudibly and moved ahead without hesitation. Chopper gave a soft, nervous beep behind him, but Ezra was already too deep in his focus to hear anything but the deafening silence ringing in his ears.

When he reached the room where he’d last seen Nix, he activated his green lightsaber. Its muted glow lit up a scene of quiet devastation. The room was empty. No bodies, no Inquisitor, but with signs of battle everywhere around them. In the center of the floor, fine spiderweb-like scorch marks radiated outward, crawling across the walls and floor, leaving behind trails of scorched metal. Several wall panels were cracked, faintly sparking. The air was thick with the sharp scent of burned metal and ozone.

“Which way now?” Zeb asked, his deep voice edged with tension.

Panic surged through Ezra like a tidal wave. He spun toward the others, eyes wide with dread. “She was supposed to be here…”

Then something on the floor caught his eye. Slowly, he crouched, his heart nearly stopping as he realized what he was looking at. Nix’s lightsabers—both of them—lay abandoned on the ground, streaked with blood.

Sabine stepped up beside him and, when she saw what had grabbed his attention, swallowed hard. “This… this isn’t good.”

Zeb tried to stay composed, offering a glimmer of hope. “Maybe she just tossed them and ran. Maybe she got away.”

Ezra only shook his head and slowly stood, cradling the elegant durite hilt with the exposed red kyber crystal—the one Nix had only recently got back. “She’d never leave this behind… This one was from her master.”

A heavy silence followed until Kanan finally broke it, his voice calm and steady. “Ezra, listen to me. There's still hope she's alive.”

Ezra didn’t answer. His eyes remained fixed on the lightsabers, his entire world shrinking to the terrible reality of what lay before him. Slowly, he sank to his knees as if his legs could no longer hold him. His chest tightened with unbearable pain, and his breath came in rapid, shallow gasps. All the fear, guilt, and despair he had been holding back crashed over him at once, like a wave too vast to outrun.

“No… I shouldn’t have let this happen,” he whispered, voice cracked and broken. His hands trembled as he clutched Nix’s lightsaber, and in that moment, he felt like a lost child: helpless in the face of something far too cruel to understand.

Sabine quickly stepped up beside him and grabbed his shoulder. “Ezra, hey! Pull it together. Panicking's not gonna help. Deep breaths. We're gonna figure this out.”

Kanan approached more slowly and crouched next to him, his voice calm and steady, but filled with quiet understanding. “Sabine’s right. Right now, we need to focus on finding her.”

Meanwhile, Sabine glanced around the room carefully, her eyes settling on a terminal by the door. “There are cameras everywhere in this facility. Chopper, plug into that terminal and run through the security footage. Maybe we can see what happened here.”

Chopper grumbled something but obediently rolled over and plugged into the terminal. Ezra, still kneeling, couldn’t tear his gaze away from Nix’s lightsabers. Guilt and fear held him frozen in a silent, empty haze.

“I should’ve stayed with her. I should’ve done something different…”

Sabine stepped in closer and gently rested a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find her, Ezra.”

Before he could answer, they all jumped as Kanan’s commlink suddenly crackled to life. “Ghost to Spectre-1. We’ve got an Imperial fleet inbound: two cruisers leading the formation. You need to get out of there. Now.”

A cold silence fell over the room.

Ezra shook his head violently, panic rising in his throat. “No… no, we can’t leave. Not yet. We haven’t found her. She could still be here!”

At that moment, Chopper let out a sharp, urgent series of beeps.

Ezra turned toward him, disbelief and fear in his voice. “What do you mean she’s gone?”

Sabine’s face darkened. “The Inquisitor… he must’ve taken her.”

Ezra inhaled sharply, stunned. “But why? Why would he do that?”

Kanan’s voice came low and tense. “Because Nix isn’t just anyone. She’s a Sith from a time long forgotten. Someone in the Empire must have found out something.”

“We can’t just let them take her!” Ezra shouted, his voice raw with desperation.

Chopper growled something, and Hera’s voice came over the still-open commlink again. “Chopper’s right. If she’s already gone, you won’t be helping anyone by staying. You’re just putting yourselves at risk. Get back here. Immediately.”

Ezra looked like he was about to argue, the words catching in his throat, but Kanan stepped in, gripping his shoulder firmly.

“Ezra, we’ll find a way. But right now, we have to get out of here before more troops show up.”

Ezra stood frozen, staring down at the durite hilt in his hand. His thumb traced the smooth metal, stopping at the dark, dried smear of blood near the emitter.

He clenched both of her lightsabers in his fists until his knuckles turned white, then turned toward the lift. The look in his eyes was no longer just guilt. It was cold, unshakable resolve.

I’ll find you. And I’ll bring you back.

The durite hilt of the lightsaber, the one her master had once given her, slipped from her trembling fingers and hit the cold floor with a soft metallic clink. The second one followed right after. And then, there was only pain. Nothing but pure, searing pain.

Sharp pulses of agony exploded across every nerve ending in her body, devouring every thought, every last shred of resistance she could muster. Her scream echoed against the walls, transformed by the dark side of the Force into a destructive shockwave. She could feel the lightning crackling wildly around her, could sense her cry reverberating through the very air… and yet she could no longer stop it. The dark side had completely overtaken her, wrenching her out of her own control.

Finally, a final, desperate gasp escaped her lips, and her body collapsed onto the cold floor in convulsions. Her strength was fading rapidly, and she clung desperately to consciousness. Her limbs were limp, unresponsive, and despair was slowly swallowing her like a dark tide. When she tried to breathe, she was overtaken by a sudden, violent cough. The taste of blood filled her mouth, and a few drops of dark crimson hit the floor right in front of her eyes.

‘No,’ she thought desperately. ‘This can’t be the end. I have to fight.’

But her body wouldn’t obey. Every attempt to move only triggered another wave of excruciating spasms. She reached for the Force, clawed at it with everything she had left, searching for any way to stand again… but she was too far gone.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a tall, blurry figure looming above her. The Inquisitor. The dim lights from nearby consoles reflected off his lenses, and as he leaned in closer, his face became nothing more than a distorted silhouette.

“How pitiful,” he said calmly, though his voice dripped with cruel amusement. “I expected more from you. Thrawn wants you alive, but trust me…” He paused, as if savoring her helplessness. “…you’ll wish I ended it here and now.”

Nix tried to speak, to say something defiant, anything… but all that came out was a faint, garbled rasp. Her pain-filled eyes were the only thing she could use to fight back.

The Inquisitor chuckled darkly, gripping her wrists in his cold, metal fingers and snapping a pair of stuncuffs around them. “Best not to resist too much,” he whispered mockingly into her ear. “One jolt from these, and you’ll think all this was a pleasant little stroll.”

Nix hissed through her teeth as another burst of pain shot through her. The Inquisitor yanked her upright, not bothering to be gentle at all. She couldn’t stand; her legs were too weak, still twitching from the torment he’d put her through. So instead, he dragged her, half-limp, across the floor.

She barely registered the path they took. It blurred past her like a fever dream: flickers of light, glimpses of sterile corridors, and faint echoes of distant sounds. At some point, she heard the Inquisitor activate his communicator and speak in his usual cold, efficient tone. “Mission accomplished. Clean this place up and notify Captain Brunson. The rest of the rebels are still somewhere within the complex, so she’s welcome to take a crack at them.”

Nix wanted to scream at him, to resist, to fight… but her body was a dead weight, and her mind was fraying at the edges. All she could do was hang on.

Eventually, they reached the hangar. Through her blurred vision, she could make out the silhouette of a ship: shaped somewhat like a TIE fighter, but much larger. The Inquisitor dragged her up the ramp and shoved her into the copilot’s seat in the cockpit.

The impact knocked the wind out of her, and for a moment, her vision went black. She tried to move again, to lift her hands, but the cuffs only dug deeper into her wrists, sending fresh pain shooting up her arms. The torment hadn’t stopped… it still pulsed through her like a poison.

The Inquisitor glanced her way, a cold smirk curling across his lips. “Don’t make this harder than it already is. Trust me, this is the nice part of your day.”

With what little strength she had left, Nix raised her head. The world kept swimming in and out of focus, and each movement drained her. Still, she forced her lips to move. “Let me… go…”

The Inquisitor let out a quiet laugh, clearly amused by her effort. “Oh, come now. You really think I’d just let you go because you asked nicely?” he said, his voice laced with cruel delight. He reached into a nearby storage compartment and pulled out a small metal injector. He turned it over in his fingers with a satisfied look.

Nix watched him breathlessly, her vision struggling to stay focused on the strange device in his hand. “What… what is that?” she asked hoarsely, though her voice sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else entirely.

The Inquisitor’s smile widened as he leaned in closer, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “Just something to make sure you won’t cause any trouble during the trip.” His cold hand clamped down on her head, roughly turning it to the side to expose her neck. Nix flinched instinctively, trying to resist, but her body betrayed her. She couldn’t move.

A sharp sting followed as he pressed the injector to her skin. Almost immediately, a strange numbness washed over her, blurring her senses even further. The edges of reality dulled, and everything around her seemed to soften and drift.

The Inquisitor tightened the crash restraints around her with a satisfied grunt, then straightened. “There. All set. Let’s get going,” he muttered, mostly to himself, as he dropped into the pilot’s seat and began activating the ship’s systems.

The vessel trembled slightly as the engines powered up. Soon, they lifted off the hangar floor. Nix felt a disorienting weightlessness spread through her limbs as the drug took hold. The agony that had gripped her earlier began to fade, but with it, so did any remaining control she had over her body. Every attempt to move was futile. Her thoughts unraveled, slipping through her fingers like threads of smoke.

“So?” the Inquisitor spoke again after a pause, his tone almost cheerful. “What do you think of my ship? TIE Reaper. Finally got one of my own. Had it modified, too.”

Nix couldn’t answer. Could barely hear him. Her mind had drifted far from the cockpit, far from the sting of restraints or the cold gleam of Imperial steel. She was thinking of Ezra. Of Sabine. Of the others. She wanted so desperately to believe they would come for her. But in the pit of her stomach, a deeper, crueler voice whispered that maybe they wouldn’t.

She wanted to say something defiant, something that showed she still had fight left in her. But all she managed was a breathless murmur: “They… they’ll come for me…”

The Inquisitor gave a snort of amusement and gestured toward the viewport just as the ship reached orbit. “Oh, sure they will. See for yourself. Isn’t that their ship over there?”

Nix strained to see, but her vision was a smear of lights and shadows. Shapes floated beyond the glass, but she couldn’t make any of them out. Her heart twisted with anxiety. Had they left her? Had they really… given up?

The Inquisitor kept talking, but his voice became more and more indistinct. Just noise. Background static. The cockpit spun slowly around her as the ship entered hyperspace, and the world slipped away completely.

She fell inward, into the void of her own thoughts, into fractured memories and flickers of pain. She saw Elkazar again, his voice echoing faintly through the storm of her fading consciousness: “Someday, you’ll know true helplessness.”

The words struck her now with unbearable clarity. Too late.

She remembered Ezra and his face frozen in uncertainty. The last moment they shared. The words she had spoken: ‘I’ve got this.’ She wished she could see Ezra again. Tell him how sorry she was. That she hadn’t kept her promise. That she wasn’t strong enough.

With one last, shallow breath, a single word escaped her lips. A whisper carried only to the dark.

“…I’m sorry.”

The Twelfth Brother watched the girl from the corner of his eye. Her gaze was blank, lost somewhere deep in the haze of the drug he’d administered. She was defenseless, helpless… exactly how he needed her to be. And yet, she still held his attention… maybe even more than he was willing to admit.

When she suddenly whispered those barely audible words, the Inquisitor let out a soft, cold chuckle and murmured almost to himself: “An apology? For what? For getting me one step closer to the recognition I deserve?”

His voice was laced with icy irony, but deep down, he felt a quiet, bitter satisfaction. He had completed his mission… and not just that. This girl wasn’t just another Jedi, not like the many he'd hunted before. There was something different about her. Something... unique.

After a brief pause, he quickly checked the navigation console again. Everything was going exactly to plan. The hyperspace route to Grand Admiral Thrawn’s Star Destroyer was set, and there was no doubt he’d arrive right on time. He exhaled slowly, then leaned toward the comms panel. With a quick motion, he activated the holocommunicator, and a moment later, the bluish glow of Grand Admiral Thrawn’s hologram flickered to life before him.

“Grand Admiral,” he said, barely masking the pride in his voice. “The mission is complete. I’m returning with the prisoner.”

Thrawn’s glowing red eyes fixed on him with an unreadable expression before the slightest trace of a satisfied smile touched his lips.

“Excellent, Inquisitor. I look forward to meeting our mystery guest in person,” he said calmly.

The hologram vanished, and the communication ended.

The Twelfth Brother leaned back into his seat, his eyes focused on the blue swirl of hyperspace ahead, as his mind began to drift. He knew his value to the Empire, but no matter what he accomplished, he always remained in the shadow of the other Inquisitors. Until today. Today, he might have finally done something that would earn him real recognition. Not just from Thrawn, but perhaps from Lord Vader himself.

His gaze drifted back to the girl. Who was she, really? She looked young, maybe the same age as that Jedi boy she’d been with. But something about her was different. From experience, he knew how easily the survivors of the Order clung to the light. But she… she wasn’t like that.

No, she couldn’t just be some stray padawan who’d fallen to the dark side out of desperation. There was more to her.

But what exactly did Thrawn want with her? That was the one question he still couldn’t answer. The Grand Admiral had never taken much interest in surviving Jedi or the Inquisitorius itself. Those had always been Lord Vader’s domain. So why now? Why this girl?

The questions swirled through his mind, forming a twisting maze of possibilities… and curiosity.

But he knew one thing: he would soon have answers. Whatever Thrawn was planning, the Twelfth Brother was determined to make this moment count; to finally secure his place in the Empire's future.

His eyes dropped back to the nav console. It would still be some time before they reached Thrawn’s Chimaera, but for the first time in a long while, he felt genuinely satisfied.

“Soon we’ll know who you really are,” he whispered softly. “Whatever you’re hiding… trust me. Thrawn will rip it out of you.”

And with that, he leaned back in his seat, while the ship continued to fly through hyperspace, toward the fate Grand Admiral Thrawn had already set in motion for them both.

Chapter Text

A low, monotonous hum. That was the first thing Nix became aware of. Then came a strange metallic taste on her tongue, and the cold bite of cuffs around her wrists. She opened her eyes, but the sight of the hypnotic blue tunnels of hyperspace only deepened her nausea. Everything was wrong. In her mind, one image kept echoing over and over: Ezra’s face, filled with fear. And her own foolish, arrogant words: “I’ve got this.”

The ship dropped out of hyperspace, and the voice of the Inquisitor pulled her out of her half-conscious haze as he activated the comm: “TIE Reaper here. Requesting clearance to land.”

“Clearance granted, Inquisitor,” came the calm, authoritative reply through the communicator.

Nix forced her heavy eyes open. Ahead loomed a massive Imperial Star Destroyer, its elegant yet intimidating silhouette cutting sharply against the star-speckled void. The colossal structure seemed almost endless, its gray armor plating and precise lights projecting a cold, unyielding signal of power.

The Reaper glided smoothly into the hangar, where a squad of stormtroopers was already waiting in formation. The Inquisitor powered down the engines and rose from his seat with a quiet sigh. Turning toward Nix, he unfastened her restraints with one quick motion.

“Up. Let’s go,” he said coldly, gripping her arm firmly. Nix tried to stand, but her legs betrayed her at once, buckling under her weight, and she collapsed hard onto the cockpit floor.

“Shit,” the Inquisitor muttered under his breath. “Now I get to haul this wreck around.” His mechanical hand fisted in her hair and yanked her upright. Pain shot through her entire body in a sharp, searing wave, stealing away her breath.

“Move,” he snapped, hauling her toward the exit. Every step felt like agony. She stumbled, desperately trying to keep her balance, but the Inquisitor continued to drag her along without mercy.

As they crossed the hangar, fragmented pieces of reality flickered through her senses. White stormtrooper armor, the harsh glare of overhead lights, the hiss of steam venting from nearby ships and equipment. All of it blurred together in her mind, merging into a single chaotic image.

Despair swallowed her whole. She didn’t have the strength to fight back, to reach for the Force, or to even resist in any way at all.

Her thoughts turned again to Ezra and the crew of the Ghost. Were they safe? Would any of them come for her… or had they already written her off as lost? The bitter thought hit harder than the pain of being manhandled. She was alone. No way to fight, no way to escape.

Nix stumbled again, and without warning, the Inquisitor shoved her hard in the back, nearly sending her sprawling. “Don’t make me drag you,” he hissed.

She barely registered the group of stormtroopers approaching. Their white armor seemed hazy, like ghostly shapes at the edge of her vision. One of them stepped forward and spoke in a clipped, military tone: “Inquisitor, the Grand Admiral is expecting you. We’ve been ordered to escort you.”

The Inquisitor exhaled impatiently. “Fine. Take me to him.” Then, without further comment, he twisted her arm behind her back, forcing her forward with a jolt of pain. Every step felt heavy, like she was wading through deep mud. Her mind screamed commands, but they never reached her paralyzed muscles, leaving only searing frustration behind.

The journey passed in flashes: glimpses of metallic corridors, light stabbing at her eyes, the blurred outlines of figures they passed along the way. For a brief moment, she tried to resist, to do something—anything—beyond stumbling forward. But the cuffs answered instantly with a sharp burst of electricity that ripped through her body. A helpless groan escaped her as she nearly collapsed again, only for the Inquisitor to jerk her back to her feet.

“I said no trouble,” he said through gritted teeth, a quiet threat in his voice.

At last, they entered a larger, dimly lit chamber, its subdued lighting swallowing her almost completely. The Inquisitor gave her a sudden, rough shove forward, and she hit her knees hard on the floor. For a fleeting moment, relief at not having to stand washed over her.

With the last of her strength, she raised her head. Her blurred vision settled on the figure before her.

A man with blue skin and piercing crimson eyes stood there, his gaze as sharp as icy daggers. Grand Admiral Thrawn. She had seen him before—during the mission on Ryloth. His presence filled her with a chilling sense of foreboding. His posture was calm, composed. His eyes swept over her, lingering not on her weaknesses, but on details. It wasn’t the look of a soldier assessing a prisoner. It was more like a curator evaluating a newly acquired, unpredictable artifact.

“Interesting,” he said at last, his voice low and resonant. “Your infiltration on Ryloth was elegant and precise. This… outcome… by contrast, is crude and chaotic. That suggests either a change in your strategy or the presence of a factor you did not anticipate. I would say both.”

Nix couldn’t answer. Her voice had abandoned her long ago.

Thrawn then turned to the Inquisitor. “I have taken the liberty of preparing a special cell for our prisoner,” he said. “I trust you are familiar, as an Inquisitor, with the Geonosian isolation fields from the Clone Wars era? They have proven remarkably effective at pacifying Force-users. I have secured a fully functional unit.”

The Inquisitor muttered something almost inaudible, but Nix caught the faint trace of resentment in his tone… and the echo of unpleasant memories.

Thrawn gave a short gesture, and the stormtroopers reacted instantly. They closed in on Nix, each seizing one of her arms, and dragged her toward the prepared cell with complete disregard for her pace. The Inquisitor followed, his footsteps cold and heavy. Nix could barely keep her head upright, her vision blurring with fatigue and pain as they dragged her through the long, sterile corridor.

When they finally reached the cell, the doors slid open with a sharp hiss. The room beyond was unnaturally white, sterile, and comfortless, bathed in a harsh, glaring light that bounced off smooth metal walls. At the back of the chamber stood an unusual device: a containment field, its silvery-blue generators anchored firmly into both floor and ceiling.

Beside the device was a control panel, its displays blinking quietly while streams of data scrolled across the screens.

The stormtroopers shoved her into position between the twin generators, hauling her upright onto the marked spot. Nix gave a faint, instinctive sway backward, but they held her in place. One trooper activated the magnetic cuffs, which snapped shut around her wrists with a quiet click. A faint vibration followed, the restraints locking her in place.

A second later, one of them moved to the control panel and powered up the containment field. Nix felt a strange wave of energy ripple through the room before the field lifted her body from the ground, suspending her in the shimmering blue pulse of the field. Her legs dangled helplessly a foot above the floor as the cuffs tightened, fixing her arms high over her head.

The Inquisitor stepped closer, watching the glow of the field with open curiosity.

“The field is calibrated to suppress both motor functions and cognitive resistance patterns,” Thrawn continued. “Even with well-trained individuals, the success rate is surprisingly high.”

Nix tried to speak, but her voice failed her, emerging only as a faint, broken whisper. Thrawn observed her with cool detachment, his crimson eyes utterly devoid of warmth.

Almost immediately, she felt the field swallowing her whole. It was as if something had severed her from the world and cut her off from everything she was. The ever-present hum of the Force that had always surrounded her was suddenly gone. The sensation that gripped her was worse than any physical pain. It felt as if someone had ripped out a part of her, a piece of her very self.

Thrawn gestured calmly to two of the stormtroopers. “You will remain inside as guards. The rest of you will return to your posts.”

His gaze returned to Nix, hanging in the bluish energy. He studied her for a long, silent moment before speaking again—his voice calm, almost gentle, yet entirely at odds with the cold in his eyes.

“Who are you?” Thrawn asked slowly, his tone measured but authoritative. “You shift your weight onto your left leg… an old hip injury. The scarring on your palms is consistent with regular practice using two blades. The style was disciplined, not instinctive.”

Nix tried to answer, but her mind was still clouded by whatever the Inquisitor had injected into her. The words tangled into incoherent fragments, her voice weak and confused. “I… don’t know… I’m not… I didn’t mean…”

Thrawn exhaled softly, his attention sliding away from the muddled girl and toward the Inquisitor. The Twelfth Brother stood with his arms folded, watching with a mask of icy disinterest. Underneath, though, a slow burn of frustration was building.

“It appears our prisoner is still under the heavy influence of sedatives,” Thrawn noted. “What exactly did you administer to her?”

The Inquisitor straightened, starting to answer, but Thrawn lifted a hand to cut him off.

“No matter,” he went on. “The interrogation will have to wait until she’s regained some clarity.”

‘Without those sedatives, she’d probably have torn your fucking ship to pieces,’ the Inquisitor thought darkly. Outwardly, he kept his silence, though a bitter sense of disappointment curled in his chest. He’d done exactly what was required: secured the prisoner without a hitch.

“I—” he began, meaning to defend himself, but Thrawn interrupted again.

“Excuses are unnecessary. I am merely interested in results and the data supporting them,” Thrawn said with calm finality. “You will accompany me to my office. We have matters to discuss.”

Thrawn turned once more to the two stormtroopers standing inside the cell. “Keep a close watch on her. I do not want any… complications repeated.”

“Yes, sir!” the troopers replied in unison, while Thrawn gestured for the Inquisitor to follow him.

The walk to Thrawn’s office passed in complete silence. The Inquisitor kept his face impassive, but doubt gnawed at him from the inside. What did Thrawn really want from him? He had followed his orders to the letter, and yet he could feel the situation tilting against him.

When they finally arrived, Thrawn sat behind his desk and motioned to the chair. The room was as austere as ever, lined with unusual artifacts that spoke of Thrawn’s obsession with the cultures of the galaxy. But the Inquisitor didn’t spare them a glance. His focus was locked on Thrawn’s piercing gaze.

“Your mission is not yet over, Inquisitor,” Thrawn began. “I expect your assistance in the interrogation of the prisoner. In the meantime, I want you to turn your attention to the other Jedi operating in this sector.”

“You mean those two?” the Twelfth Brother scoffed with a contemptuous smirk. “Bridger’s an annoying little shit, and Jarrus is a shadow of what he used to be. I’ll find them. Should be easy.”

“Correct,” Thrawn replied evenly. “While you work for me, I have arranged quarters for you, as well as a personal aide who will provide any support you might require.”

The Inquisitor gave a curt nod, masking any trace of displeasure. “If that’s all, Grand Admiral, I’ll report in to the Inquisitorius and—”

“No.” Thrawn cut him off more sharply than expected. “I’m afraid you misunderstand, Inquisitor. From this moment on, your reports will go exclusively to me.”

The Inquisitor hesitated, caught off guard. “I understand you’ve taken command of this particular operation, but I still serve under Lord Vader and the Inquisitorius.”

Thrawn studied him for a long moment in silence. “Inquisitor, it seems you are operating on outdated information. The Inquisitorius, in the Empire’s current structure, is a resource of diminishing value. A tool that has worn down and lost the Emperor’s favor. Lord Vader retains only the most efficient assets. You, on the other hand, are here because you are useful to me. If you choose not to be, your value to the Empire becomes… negligible. And Lord Vader is well acquainted with the fate of negligible assets. This is not a threat, Inquisitor. Merely a logical conclusion.”

A cold emptiness spread through the Inquisitor’s gut. His thoughts began to race as he realized he had walked straight into a trap with no way out. That blue-skinned bastard had him by the throat, and there was nothing he could do about it. His plan to use this mission to climb the ranks and finally earn Vader’s recognition had just gone up in smoke.

“Do we understand each other, Inquisitor?” Thrawn’s voice was calm, yet merciless.

The Twelfth Brother forced his voice to remain steady. “Yes, Grand Admiral. Perfectly.”

“Excellent. That will be all for now. You may go.”

The Inquisitor rose slowly, his mind shaken and boiling with anger he couldn’t show. Now he knew his position was even weaker than he’d ever allowed himself to believe. He was trapped in a web of intrigue spun by Grand Admiral Thrawn, with no idea if he’d ever break free.

He was almost at the door when Thrawn stopped him one more time.

“Your quarters are in Section E-19, number 142,” the Grand Admiral said, eyes still on his datapad. “They are simple, but efficient. I understand you prefer a minimalist environment, free of distractions. Your personal aide, Mei Quinn, is already there. She will handle all administrative matters so you are fully capable of focusing on your assignments.”

The Twelfth Brother froze for a moment, startled not just by how thoroughly Thrawn had prepared everything, but by how completely the Grand Admiral had stripped away his choices.

He opened his mouth to speak, then decided whatever he said wouldn’t make a difference. Spinning sharply on his heel, he strode out of Thrawn’s office into the cold metal corridor.

He stopped just beyond the threshold, the door hissing shut behind him, and stared blankly into space. Thrawn’s words echoed in his mind. A tool that has worn down. The blue bastard had written him off without so much as a flicker of emotion. But why? The Twelfth Brother had always prided himself on precision.

Then he remembered Onderon. The botched mission with the Fourth Sister, when a Jedi had slipped through their fingers because some ISB fucker sold them out. That hadn’t been his fault.

But Vader had seen it differently. In his eyes, they had become exactly that—worn-out tools. Negligible assets, fit only for punishment.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sharp prickle of being watched. He lifted his head and spotted a pair of stormtroopers staring at him silently, their curiosity obvious even through their helmets.

The Inquisitor scowled. “The fuck are you looking at?” he snarled. The troopers flinched and looked away immediately. Satisfied, the Twelfth Brother set off down the corridor toward Section E-19 without another word.

The empty corridors of the Destroyer offered him no peace. It wasn’t Thrawn himself that gnawed at him, but what the Grand Admiral could do—one word in the right ear. One word to Vader. The thought alone was enough to send a sharp spike of pain through one of his implants. A phantom spasm tied to a memory he tried to bury: the crack of bone and the acrid stink of his own flesh burning.

When he finally reached his assigned quarters, a faint wave of relief hit him. The doors slid open with a quiet hiss, and the Inquisitor stepped inside. The room was stark. It was a small, gray-walled space, with a narrow bed, a simple metal table and chair, and a tiny refresher off to the side. He shut the door behind him and leaned his back against the cold wall, feeling the anger and frustration coil tighter inside him.

He went straight to the refresher sink, hoping to steady himself. He took off his black glasses and set them on the edge of the basin. Slowly, he splashed his face with cold water, letting it run down over his pale skin. When he looked up at the mirror, he froze.

The reflection stared back with eyes that were unnatural and unsettling: yellow irises ringed in blood-red, standing out sharply against the pitch-black sclera. His black hair was kept in a severe cut, but the right side of his head was shaved completely bare, exposing a network of metal circuits and cybernetic implants jutting from beneath the skin.

The sight of the machinery in his skull hit like a punch. A reminder of failure. A reminder of the “upgrades” he’d been forced to take for his survival. It was never easy to look himself in the eye.

‘Look at you. Mutilated wreck. Vader’s lapdog who doesn’t even deserve his attention… and now you’re that smug blue prick’s pet, too.’ The heat rose in him again, a scorching wave of hatred… for Thrawn, for Vader, but most of all for the weak bastard staring back at him from the glass.

“I’m nobody’s fucking puppet,” he growled under his breath, his voice full of venom and bitterness. His fist shot forward, slamming into the mirror. Glass shattered with a sharp crash, shards raining down; a few cut into the skin of his hand, but the pain barely registered.

“Sir?” a soft, quiet voice spoke suddenly from behind him.

The Twelfth Brother turned around sharply. In the doorway stood a young woman with short, reddish hair framing a freckled face. She wore a perfectly pressed Imperial uniform and held a datapad in her hands.

“Who the fuck are you?” he snapped, his tone hard and unfriendly. ‘What the fuck is this—did they send me a babysitter?’ he thought, staring at the small woman in disbelief.

She took a cautious step forward and came to attention. “Apologies, sir. I’m Lieutenant Mei Quinn. I’ve been assigned as your personal aide. I’ve prepared a schedule for your upcoming assignments.”

The Twelfth Brother fixed her with a cold glare. “Get out,” he said, his voice icy. “Don’t come back till I call you.”

One thought circled relentlessly in his mind: how much lower could he possibly sink?

Nix felt her consciousness slowly, but steadily, start to claw its way up from the darkness the sedatives had plunged her into. Memories of Elkazar churned through her mind. She could hear his deep voice, as clear as if he were standing beside her, teaching her how to withstand torture and psychological pressure.

“Your greatest weapon isn’t your lightsabers or even the Force itself,” Elkazar had told her firmly. “It’s your mind. Physical pain will always end eventually.”

Nix drew a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of her thoughts and steel herself for more pain. But the moment was broken by a sudden shift in the room’s atmosphere. Above the cell door, a red warning light blinked on, accompanied by a sharp, piercing tone.

The stormtroopers immediately straightened, ready to respond, as the door slid open with a hiss. An Imperial Security officer stepped inside. Through the haze clouding her vision, she registered him only in fragments: tall, upright posture, sideburns trimmed into sharp lines. A small insignia gleamed on his chest pocket. In one hand, he carried a datapad, which he silently showed to the troopers.

“ISB, Protocol Division. Directive 440-3: detention systems audit,” he announced in an official tone. “Grand Admiral Thrawn is aware. Initiating a brief diagnostic of the field and verification of the prisoner’s vitals.”

The troopers gave curt nods and returned to their posts. The officer moved to the control panel and initiated the test; for the briefest fraction of a second, the hum of the field changed pitch, and the crushing pressure on Nix eased—so little that she wasn’t even sure she hadn’t imagined it. He acknowledged the readout with a neutral nod, as if the fluctuation were expected

The officer studied the data streaming across the display for a moment, occasionally tapping entries into his datapad, then turned his attention directly to her.

“Name,” he said quietly, sounding more like a verification than a question. Yet his gaze was sharp, intent, tracking every flicker of her expression.

Nix took a shallow breath and tried to respond. Her voice was hoarse, still thick and unsteady. “So… that Chiss doesn’t want to question me himself anymore…?”

The officer gave a small nod, almost as if he’d expected this answer. He continued in the same calm, impersonal tone. “Effects of the sedatives? Duration. Intensity,” he asked.

“What do you think? I feel fantastic…” Nix replied dryly, though her voice carried more weakness than defiance.

The officer didn’t react. He simply kept entering notes into his datapad, recording every movement, every shift in her tone. Then, abruptly, he lifted his head, meeting her eyes, and continued in the same neutral cadence as if reciting a routine report.

“Taken into custody by the Inquisitor during an attempted infiltration of the Naraka research facility. Seen in the company of another rebel operative, identified as…” his rhythm broke for the briefest instant, “…Ezra Bridger.” He glanced at her. “Some names attract unnecessary attention.”

For a moment, Nix was caught off guard. The surprise flickered across her face for only an instant before she smothered it, replacing it with an ironic smirk. “Your records are usually in a complete mess… I’m amazed anyone remembered his name.”

The officer said nothing more. He simply entered another note into the datapad, then turned toward the stormtroopers.

Before speaking, his gaze flicked briefly to the sensor grid high on the cell’s ceiling, as if to confirm it was active. Only then did he say firmly, “That will be all. Thank you for your cooperation.”

He saved the protocol on the panel: “Note: variance in vital readings. Recommend med-droid observation.” Then he turned and walked toward the door.

Nix followed him with her eyes, still unsure whether there had been any hidden meaning in his words. She realized she had never felt this lost before. And that frightened her more than anything else.

Ezra sat in the common room on the Ghost, now docked at Chopper Base on Atollon. In his hand, he gripped one of Nix’s lightsabers, but his eyes were fixed on the holopad lying on the table in front of him. For the fifth time, he watched the same silent security recording—one Chopper had pulled from a terminal on Naraka.

The image was grainy and without sound. He saw Nix fighting: fast, furious, with the kind of elegance he’d always admired in her. He saw the Inquisitor forced back, saw him raise his cybernetic arm. And then it happened. Nix collapsed to her knees without any visible strike. Her body began to convulse violently, and small, chaotic sparks of Force lightning burst from her hands. Ezra flinched every time he saw it. Even without the sound, he could feel her agony, her desperation. He could almost hear the scream that never reached his ears. He saw the Inquisitor watching her coldly as she fell, defeated by something unseen.

“What was that?” Ezra whispered into the silence for what felt like the hundredth time, pausing the recording at the exact frame where the Inquisitor activated his weapon. “He didn’t touch her. Didn’t even get close.”

“Because he didn’t have to.” A quiet voice broke through his thoughts. Sabine had slipped into the room without a word, a datapad in her hand, her eyes flicking between him and the frozen image on his screen. “That device he activated… I think it might’ve been a subsonic emitter.”

Ezra gave her a confused look. “A subsonic what?”

“A weapon that emits extremely low frequencies. Too low for you to hear, but your body feels them,” Sabine explained, taking a seat beside him. “If it’s tuned to the target’s resonant frequency, it can cause unbearable pain, internal bleeding, and total disorientation. Basically, it vibrates your organs and nervous system, destroying them from the inside.” She hesitated, her gaze softening with sympathy. “It would’ve been like a star exploding in her head. That surge of lightning was probably her body’s way of defending itself.”

Ezra stared at the frozen frame in silence. So the Inquisitor hadn’t beaten her in combat… he’d used an invisible, underhanded weapon she couldn’t do anything against. His throat tightened with guilt and helpless anger.

Sabine looked at him. “You know it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” Ezra said quietly, gripping the lightsaber hilt even tighter. “But I can’t stop thinking… maybe it would’ve been different if I’d stayed.”

Sabine sighed, her tone sharpening slightly. “Stop torturing yourself, Ezra. It was her or all of us. Do you think she’d want you sitting here, drowning in guilt? She'd want us to come up with a solution.”

“You think we’ll ever find her?” Ezra asked, the desperation in his voice barely hidden.

“We’ve done what we can,” Sabine reminded him. “Chopper pulled the Inquisitor’s ship ID from those records. And Hondo promised that if he hears anything about it, he’ll let us know immediately. That’s already a good start.”

“A start,” Ezra repeated bitterly. “She could be anywhere. We’re going to need a miracle just to find a single lead.”

Just then, the sound of his comlink cut through his thoughts. Ezra activated it quickly, Hera’s urgent, serious voice coming through.

“Ezra, report to the command center immediately. We might have news about Nix.”

Ezra’s stomach tightened sharply, and before he even realized it, he was already on his feet. “Where? Is she—”

“Command center, now,” Hera cut him off. “We’ll cover it there, not over comms.”

Ezra shot Sabine a quick look; a fierce spark of hope flared in his eyes, and without another word, he bolted towards the command center.

Hera was already there, along with Kanan and Commander Sato. Projected above the holocomm was the unmistakable symbol of Fulcrum, their mysterious contact within the Empire. Ezra stepped closer, tension radiating from every movement.

“What’s going on?” he asked quickly.

“Fulcrum just reported that Thrawn is holding a high-value rebel prisoner on his Star Destroyer,” Hera said, her tone brisk and serious. “There’s a good chance it could be Nix.”

Fulcrum’s voice came through distorted by the holocomm: “She didn’t give her name, but the description matches: small build, white hair, scar over the right eye. And according to what I’ve heard, she was seen with Ezra Bridger.”

“Where is she?” Ezra pressed, his heart pounding. “Is she all right?”

“For now,” Fulcrum replied. “She’s being kept in a cell aboard Thrawn’s Star Destroyer, the Chimaera. Thrawn had a special cell prepared and apparently intends to conduct a thorough interrogation.”

Ezra turned desperately to Hera and Sato, his eyes full of urgency and resolve. “We have to help her. We’re going to try and rescue her, right?”

Hera and Sato exchanged a brief glance. “This mission could be extremely dangerous, Ezra,” Hera cautioned.

Kanan didn’t hesitate for a second. “Hera, when you came for me on Tarkin’s ship, you risked everything… for one of us. Tell me how this is different.”

Hera shook her head. “Back then, we weren’t part of Phoenix Squadron. Now, we could be putting the entire rebel cell at risk.”

Commander Sato spoke up. “That girl has helped us more than once. I’ll leave the final decision to you, Captain Syndulla.”

Ezra held his breath, silently pleading with Hera to say yes. The silence was broken by Fulcrum’s voice: “If you attempt a rescue, I may be able to help. I can provide intel to get you through the blockade and perhaps even aboard the target vessel.”

Ezra looked at Hera intently. The captain closed her eyes for a moment, as if running through every calculation in her head… lives, ships, the future of the entire cell. Then she drew in a deep breath, opened her eyes again, and her gaze was steady as steel. She met Ezra’s eyes.

“All right,” she said at last, her voice quiet but unwavering. “Let’s come up with a plan. We’re bringing her back.”

Ezra felt like a crushing weight was lifted from his shoulders. It wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time in what already felt like forever, he felt hope that he could make right the mistake that had haunted him so deeply; hope that he could bring Nix home.

Chapter Text

The pain brought her back into reality. A sharp, pulsing ache tore through her muscles, cutting away the last remnants of the chemical haze clouding her head. She opened her eyes and realized two things at once: the cold pressure of magnetic cuffs biting into her wrists, and the omnipresent bluish glow. A containment field.

But the worst part wasn’t the pain, or the restraints. It was the quiet, unnatural emptiness in her mind: where the Force had always been.

She remembered Elkazar’s words, that her greatest weapon was her mind. But what if even that failed her? She pushed thoughts of Ezra and her own arrogance to the back of her mind. This wasn’t the time for guilt. Only survival.

She couldn’t even tell how long she’d been in this cell. Minutes, hours, days? Time had lost all meaning, just like everything else. She was alone, cut off from anyone who might help her. A creeping sense of despair began to settle in, whispering that her situation was utterly hopeless.

Suddenly, the red warning light above the cell door flared to life. The sharp alarm that followed ripped Nix from her thoughts and slammed her back into the present. The two stormtroopers who had been silently watching her snapped to attention instantly. The door slid open, and Nix felt her pulse quicken.

Grand Admiral Thrawn stepped inside, his crimson eyes locking onto her with cold precision. At his side, the Inquisitor—the Twelfth Brother—entered as well. Both men stopped just short of her, silent, calm, studying her as though she were some curious specimen.

Nix couldn’t tear her gaze away from Thrawn. His presence was almost tangible, pressing in on her. Her heart pounded faster because she knew this was only the beginning.

Thrawn approached slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. He circled her at a measured distance, his crimson eyes noting every detail.

“Your uniform is a standard science model—stolen, no doubt,” he finally began, his voice calm, resonant. “But you wear it with the arrogance of a soldier, not a technician or researcher. And then there is the tattoo.” His eyes settled on her wrist.

“What about it?” Nix shot back, forcing a smirk that cost her more energy than she could spare. “Want one for yourself? I can recommend a few good parlors.”

Thrawn ignored her sarcasm, as if he hadn’t heard it at all. “Similar motifs have been tied to factions in direct opposition to the Jedi Order. That would explain your… aggression in combat. Remarkably undisciplined.”

“Or it could mean nothing at all, and I just liked the design,” she snapped. “Did that ever cross your mind, Admiral?”

“Subjective preference rarely explains the choice of a symbol with such historical weight,” Thrawn replied coldly, stopping behind her. He carefully brushed her hair aside, exposing her neck. “Especially when paired with this tattoo. The crest of the old Sith Empire. An empire that has not existed in thousands of years.” He paused. “Your data, your knowledge, your symbols, your fighting style… all point to one conclusion, however illogical it may seem. You are not only from another place. You are from another time.”

Nix stared at him, speechless. Shock stole her breath... and her sarcasm. How… How could he know?

The silence was cut by the Inquisitor’s disgusted scoff. “So you’re saying she’s some kind of time traveler?” His voice dripped with contempt. “With all due respect, your psychoanalysis games are bantha shit. You want answers? I’ll get you answers.”

“Your methods are predictable, Inquisitor. Brutality breeds only lies and false confessions. I am after the truth.” Thrawn’s gaze shifted back to Nix, who was slowly regaining her composure, trying to summon defiance again. “But in one thing, you are correct,” Thrawn continued calmly. “Time is a valuable resource. So let us start simply. What is your name?”

Nix drew in a deep breath, grateful for a question that wasn’t as crushing as his accusations. “And what would you even do with that information?”

Thrawn straightened slightly. “That is your decision.” With the smallest nod toward the Inquisitor, he gave silent permission.

The Inquisitor didn’t wait. With a satisfied smirk, he activated the panel, and a sharp jolt of pain shot through Nix’s entire body. She bit down hard on her lip to stifle the scream, but her body arched violently against her will.

“The scale goes up to ten. That was a one,” the Inquisitor said with icy calm. “Want to see what a ten feels like?”

Thrawn watched silently, waiting until the tremors in her body subsided. “Now, we continue. I trust you’ll be more forthcoming this time. Your name.”

Nix panted heavily, every muscle burning. She forced her head up and locked her defiant gaze with Thrawn’s eyes. All she saw there was the cold patience of a man with all the time in the galaxy. Her name, she knew, was meaningless here.

“Fine,” she exhaled. “Since you’re so desperate… I’m Nix.”

Thrawn gave a slow nod. “Very good. And beyond that?”

“That’s it. Just Nix,” she snapped, the words harsher than she’d intended.

The Inquisitor shifted impatiently. “She's just fucking with us to waste time.”

“You’re funny,” Nix rasped, a trace of ironic laughter in her voice. “I like you.”

“Cocky bitch,” the Inquisitor muttered under his breath. Without warning, he sent another surge through her body, but this time longer and more intense.

“Enough,” Thrawn cut in sharply, his voice remaining calm. His gaze pinned the Inquisitor in place. “We need her lucid if this conversation is to yield anything of use. Your impatience is counterproductive.”

For a heartbeat, the Inquisitor froze, fists clenched so tightly the servos in his prosthetic whined. With visible effort, he forced his hands to relax. “Of course, Grand Admiral,” he said coldly.

Thrawn turned back to Nix. “Very well, Nix. Let us move on. Where are you from?”

“From a place that no longer exists,” she answered defiantly. “So the question itself is pointless.”

“Wrong answer,” the Inquisitor said flatly, sending another burst of energy through her.

This time, Nix nearly screamed. The pain sank deep into her bones, forcing her to clamp her jaw so tight she tasted blood on her tongue.

“Inquisitor,” Thrawn’s voice dropped to a dangerously frigid tone. “If she loses consciousness, this ends. Your methods are crude and ineffective.”

The Inquisitor stiffened at the rebuke, lowering his head. “Fine,” he hissed.

Thrawn’s eyes returned to Nix.

“All of this is pointless. The defiance. The pain. Your friends didn’t come when you were taken. They won’t come now. Why would they? To them, you’re nothing but a liability.” He paused, then delivered the next words with surgical precision. “Especially to him. To Ezra Bridger. You sacrificed yourself for him, and yet… he isn’t here. A sacrifice only has value if it is recognized. Otherwise, it’s just… a meaningless loss.”

Those words cut deeper than any electric shock. They slid into her mind like poisoned knives, stirring up every doubt she’d tried to bury.

“That’s… not true,” she whispered weakly, but even to her own ears, it sounded like a desperate lie.

“Of course,” Thrawn said evenly. “Reality is merciless. And the reality is that the Empire always prevails. It’s only a matter of time before you accept it.”

Nix squeezed her eyes shut, her own master’s words echoing in her mind. ‘Control your thoughts. Don’t let him in.’

Thrawn studied her silently for a long moment. Then he stepped back and turned to the Inquisitor. “That will be all for now. I have everything I came for.”

The Inquisitor gave a curt nod, though every part of him itched to smash something.

Thrawn cast one last cold look at Nix before slowly turning toward the door. “Every work of art has an origin, Miss Nix,” he said evenly, without glancing back. “I suggest you remember yours. We will return to this later.” With that, the cell doors slid shut behind him.

‘Miss Nix. A work of art.’ The Twelfth Brother sneered inwardly. ‘For fuck’s sake. Is that blue asshole for real? She’s a prisoner, not some kriffing vase.’

He followed Thrawn at a measured pace, fury simmering under the surface. This whole shitshow was supposed to be his to command. Instead, he was reduced to being Thrawn's fucking hound on a leash. And the worst part? His hands were completely tied. One fuck-up, one word out of line, and the Admiral would tattle to Vader.

Thrawn stopped in the corridor. “Walk with me, Inquisitor. We have matters to discuss.”

‘Perfect. Another lecture,’ the Inquisitor thought bitterly, stifling a growl as he fell in step.

After a few strides of silence, Thrawn spoke again, his pace unbroken. “Your assessment of the prisoner, Inquisitor?”

‘What the fuck am I supposed to think? She’s just another headache I have to deal with.’

“She’s strong,” the Inquisitor answered grudgingly. “And arrogant. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“That is a tactical assessment,” Thrawn corrected coolly. “I asked for a strategic one. Do you see no familiar patterns in her style, in her connection to the Force? No echo of older, more aggressive philosophies?” His red gaze flicked toward him, dissecting every reaction.

‘Strategic, tactical… how about you shut the fuck up and let me do my job?’ Out loud, he forced a clipped response. “Plenty of padawans turned after the purge. Nothing new.”

“Curious,” Thrawn murmured. “My analysis suggests we are dealing with something far rarer. Something that far exceeds the limited scope of your Order. It falls under protocols even you are not cleared to access.”

The words hit harder than he wanted to admit. After years of chasing Jedi, following Vader’s endless orders, now this blue bastard was telling him he didn’t know a thing?

“What do you mean?” he demanded.

Thrawn halted and turned toward him. “I am saying, Inquisitor, that this prisoner is far more valuable to the Empire’s future than you could possibly imagine. But… I will not trouble you with such matters.”

‘That arrogant son of a bitch talks to me like I’m some kriffing errand boy.’ Heat flared in his face, one of his implants twitching uncomfortably. He drew a sharp breath to steady himself, then snapped back, “Understood, Grand Admiral.”

Thrawn paused outside the door to his office and turned to him. “That will be all for today. Return to your quarters and get some rest. I will summon you when I am ready to continue the interrogation.”

“But… what the kriff am I even here for?” the Inquisitor snapped. “To watch you play psychologist?”

Thrawn froze, his hand resting on the door panel, and slowly turned back. His gaze was pure ice, sliding down the Inquisitor’s spine like a blade. He instantly regretted opening his mouth.

“Your concern, Inquisitor,” Thrawn said slowly, “is not to ask questions, but to follow my orders. I thought we had an understanding. Was I mistaken?”

The Twelfth Brother’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white. He held Thrawn’s gaze a heartbeat longer than he should have, then inclined his head—barely. “No. We understand each other.”

Thrawn gave a short nod. “Excellent. Now go.”

The office door slid open, and Thrawn disappeared inside without another word.

The Inquisitor stood alone in the corridor, the emptiness around him a cruel contrast to the chaos in his head. Reluctantly, he turned toward his quarters. Thrawn’s words looped in his mind again and again. He knew exactly what he was to him: expendable. The moment the Grand Admiral no longer needed him, he’d be tossed aside like a mangy hound.

With a muttered curse, he finally reached his quarters and stepped inside. A long breath tore from his chest, as if some of the weight fell away with the closing door.

For a moment he just stood there, surveying the sterile hole. ‘Yeah. Home sweet home,’ he thought bitterly, lips curling in a humorless chuckle.

The Inquisitor’s gaze fell on a small officer standing by a table across the room. Mei Quinn turned the moment she heard him enter, her freckled face lighting up with a broad smile. Nervously, she smoothed her short red hair with her fingers and gave a quick bow.

“Sir… Inquisitor,” she began eagerly, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Obviously,” he drawled, his eyes sweeping the room as if searching for something. “Somewhere in here I seem to have lost the meaning of the phrase I want to be alone. You seen it?” With that, he dropped onto the bunk and fixed her with a piercing stare.

Mei faltered for just a heartbeat, then answered with a completely straight, professional face. “Haven’t seen it, sir. But I assumed, after your return, that hunger might take priority over solitude. So I arranged dinner.”

The Inquisitor stared at her for a long moment before letting out a weary snort. “Fine. Point for you,” he admitted reluctantly. “Shame for you, I’m not hungry… which means point number two—being the fuck alone—still stands.”

Mei lowered her gaze, clearly stung by his dismissal. “Of course, sir. It’s just…” she hesitated, then looked back at him with a pleading expression. “I know you don’t care, but I made sure to get you something decent. Not the slop from the mess hall. These are special rations for command.”

The Twelfth Brother stared at her, then turned away and fixed his eyes on the gray wall. “Save your special treatment for someone else,” he said flatly. “I’m not your project.”

Mei watched him for a moment, then allowed the faintest, almost sympathetic smile to touch her lips. “You’re no project of mine, sir,” she replied calmly. “My assignment is to make sure you have everything you need.”

He studied her in silence, torn between irritation and confusion at her persistence. Finally, with a weary sigh, he crossed to the table and set his lightsaber down with a dull clack.

“Sir, if you’ll allow,” Mei continued with eager professionalism, “I could have your weapon professionally cleaned and recalibrated. And while we’re at it,” her eyes flicked over his figure, “I could send your armor to the cleaners as well. I noticed a few blaster scorches… and that gouge on the shoulder could use repair.”

The Inquisitor just stared at her. Silence hung heavy for several seconds as he processed what he’d just heard.

‘Cleaners? She’s gotta be shitting me.’

“Professionally cleaned?” he repeated slowly, incredulous. His voice was dangerously calm. “And what else? Polish my boots? Want me to bring you caf while you check my homework?”

The calm tone snapped, replaced by cold fury. “This isn’t some kriffing dress uniform for an office gig! And this—” he jabbed a finger at the lightsaber. “isn’t a fucking blowtorch.”

Mei flinched, startled by the raw force of his outburst. She nodded quickly, clearly shaken. “Understood, sir. I’m sorry, I… I only wanted to make you comfortable here. You’re a very important guest.”

‘What the fuck is she talking about? Important?’ The word hit him like a slap, stopping him mid-movement. Everyone else had always treated him like trash. Vader had broken him. Thrawn had chained him like a dog. And this… nobody thought he was important.

“Important?” he echoed, then barked out a short, bitter laugh. “What the kriff have they been feeding you about me?”

Mei hesitated before answering. “I’d heard of the Inquisitors before, but I never had the chance to meet one in person. I… I believe what you do is extremely important. You fight the rebels, the terrorists… you protect the Empire.”

The Twelfth Brother frowned, wondering if she was screwing with him. At last he just waved her words aside. “Fine. Since I’m so damn important,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word, “prove it. Those special rations. Can I make a request?”

Mei nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

He needed something strong enough to burn a hole straight through his skull and erase this day. He needed to get drunk. Bad. He cleared his throat. “They got… anything stronger to drink?”

Mei smiled faintly, almost amused, and asked, “Of course, sir. I can bring you something. Any particular preference?”

The Inquisitor rubbed at his temple, the simple question draining what little patience he had left. “Anything,” he muttered tiredly. “Find something that could burn a hole through this table… and bring a lot of it.”

Mei drew a quick breath to ask something else, but the Inquisitor lifted a hand and growled without looking at her, “Not another word. Just go.”

The officer flinched, then nodded quickly. “Yes, sir, right away!” she blurted, hurrying for the door.

The Twelfth Brother watched her vanish and was finally left alone. He shut his eyes and leaned his head back, trying to make sense of how he’d let himself get so rattled in a matter of minutes. He closed his eyes tighter and let his skull thump lightly against the cold wall.

‘Kriffing shit, what’s wrong with me? Some girl tosses me one kind word and I come apart like this?’ The thought infuriated him almost as much as Thrawn. This whole situation was just another reminder of the pit he was stuck in.

Ezra could feel sweat running down his forehead beneath the stark white helmet of the stormtrooper disguise. The shuttle carrying them, along with several other freshly assigned troopers, was closing in on the Chimaera. The interior was bleak and sterile: gray metal walls, dim white lighting, and a silence broken only by the monotonous hum of the engines and the occasional clatter of plastoid armor plates. Some troopers, clearly dulled by routine, dozed off against their rifles, while others simply sat in silence, staring blankly ahead. The air was heavy with apathy, a strange comfort to Ezra… it might make blending in that much easier.

He sat next to Kanan at the back of the shuttle, far enough from the others that they could speak in hushed tones, careful with every word.

“We’re almost there,” Ezra whispered, glancing sideways at his master. “You do realize this has to be the craziest plan we’ve ever come up with, right?”

Kanan smirked faintly beneath his helmet, shoulders lifting in a subtle shrug. “Starting to think you say that before every mission.”

Ezra tried to suppress the tight feeling in his gut that had been gnawing at him ever since they boarded. “I just hope those ID numbers Fulcrum gave us work. Otherwise… we’re in deep trouble.”

Kanan nodded. “They haven't failed us yet. We’ve got no choice but to trust them.”

A burst of static cracked from the overhead intercom, followed by the pilot’s voice: “Exiting hyperspace. Prepare for landing.”

Ezra lifted his head as the shuttle shuddered slightly. Through the viewport, he caught sight of the Star Destroyer’s looming silhouette—massive, elegant, and terrifying all at once. His breath caught in his throat as the reality set in: Nix was close. And yet, her rescue still felt impossibly far away.

The shuttle slipped neatly through the hangar’s deflector shield and settled onto the deck with a gentle thud. Troopers began filing out in orderly fashion, lining up in front of an officer who was running ID checks. Ezra and Kanan blended in, slotting themselves seamlessly into the queue.

When their turn came, the officer didn’t even look up. His finger tapped impatiently against the datapad. “Next pair. Operating numbers,” he droned.

Without hesitation, Kanan said, “TK-5473.” The officer keyed it in, and a green confirmation check instantly flashed across the screen.

“Next.”

Ezra swallowed hard. His heart pounded in his throat. ‘What was it again? 8269? Or 8962?’ He hesitated for a heartbeat, struggling to recall Fulcrum’s list. “TK-8629,” he finally said, praying his voice didn’t betray how shaky he felt.

The officer entered the number. Nothing. The cursor just blinked.

‘I blew it. That’s it. He calls it in, and we’re facing a firing squad in five minutes.’

The officer let out an annoyed grunt. “Kriffing system,” he muttered under his breath. “Slower than a payday queue lately.” He jabbed the datapad again.

One second. Two. Three. Then—finally—a green flash of confirmation.

“About time,” the officer huffed, waving them along. “Sector H-7, barrack 214. Move along. Next!”

Ezra gave a curt nod and followed Kanan quickly out of sight down the first corridor. Only once they were clear did he let out the deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

As they wound through the Chimaera’s pristine corridors, Ezra couldn’t shake the feeling of being an intruder inside a finely tuned machine. Bright, clinical lights gleamed off spotless floors, polished to a mirror shine. Mouse droids zipped past with soft beeps, carrying out their endless routines. Every now and then, an officer strode by, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed straight ahead, not even sparing thema glance. That indifference was somehow more unnerving than outright hostility.

“You’re tense,” Kanan said quietly once they stepped into their assigned quarters and the door hissed shut behind them.

The room was as plain as expected: two narrow bunks stacked against the wall, a single wall terminal, and two small lockers. Ezra removed his helmet and drew a shaky breath, trying to steady himself.

“Yeah… We’re inside, but it feels like a cage,” he admitted, glancing at Kanan. “What if we can’t reach her in time?”

Kanan pulled off his own helmet, setting it down on one of the bunks. “Don’t worry. We’ve handled worse. And she’s trained for this.”

“I hope you’re right,” Ezra gave a small nod and activated the wall terminal. He studied the data in silence for a moment before letting out a frustrated huff. “We’ve got patrol duty in Sector F. Maintenance and storage. It’s on the complete other side of the ship.”

“As expected,” Kanan muttered, stepping up behind him. “They keep rookies away from anything important. Could work to our advantage… no one will notice us there, and no one will miss us.”

Ezra hesitated, then spoke. “What if we scout ahead right now? Pretend we got lost. Just a quick look at Sector B. We need to know the escape routes… and how many guards are in place.”

Kanan frowned, the disapproval plain on his face, but after a pause he nodded reluctantly. “Risky, don’t you think?”

Ezra shrugged and slid his helmet back on. “Sometimes the best defense is a fast, unexpected offense.”

Kanan sighed but gave a short nod. “Fine. But we stay in the shadows. No contact. The moment anything feels off, we pull back. Understood?”

“Understood,” Ezra replied firmly. He rose from the terminal, tension coursing through him as they stepped back into the corridor.

Every hallway looked the same: gray walls, harsh lights, identical door markings that gave away nothing. The air was heavier here, tinged with the scent of scorched circuits and recycled oxygen. From behind some doors came the flat voices of technicians, from others the faint drone of machinery. It was easy to get lost. Easier still to stumble somewhere they didn’t belong.

“I think it should be section B-3,” Ezra whispered. “Pretty sure it’s this way.”

Kanan inclined his head slightly, and together they pressed on. The corridors were quiet, nearly deserted. A few stormtroopers passed them by, but none gave them more than a glance before moving on.

Relief flickered through Ezra, but unease still gnawed at him. He forced a deep breath, gripping his rifle tighter, trying to look the part.

They rounded a corner… and stopped.

A tall figure emerged from the opposite hall: dark Imperial uniform overlaid with chest armor. Ezra froze for a heartbeat as recognition struck. The neatly trimmed blond hair, the heavy sideburns, the severe expression.

Agent Kallus.

Panic knifed into Ezra’s gut. He forced himself to keep moving, praying Kallus wouldn’t notice. But hope died the instant the agent’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing directly on them. Suspicion sharpened his gaze instantly.

“You two!” Kallus barked, striding toward them. Ezra’s throat went dry. “There’s no shift change scheduled at this hour. This isn’t your post! What are you doing here?”

Ezra drew a quick breath and forced his voice to steady. “Apologies, sir. We’re new. Must’ve gotten turned around.”

Kanan stepped in smoothly, his tone calm, authoritative. “Yes, sir. Still learning the layout.”

Kallus studied them in silence for a beat too long, his expression cold and unreadable.

“Not my problem,” he said at last, voice sharp as broken glass. “Your operating numbers. Now.”

Ezra rattled off his ID, praying his voice didn’t crack, and Kanan followed suit. Kallus entered them into his datapad, and Ezra’s chest tightened as he waited for the inevitable alarm.

Instead, a green confirmation flashed. But Kallus’s frown remained.

He hesitated, datapad still in hand, eyes fixed on them rather than the screen. Ezra’s breath caught.

“Your numbers check out,” Kallus said at last, tone icy. “Your sense of direction, however, does not. Return to your post.”

“Yes, sir,” Ezra blurted, hiding his relief as best he could. He and Kanan turned at once, retreating with brisk, measured steps.

Only when Kallus was out of sight did Ezra let himself exhale. His shoulders sagged, muscles aching from the tension.

“Well… that didn’t go great,” he muttered under his breath, frustration simmering.

“Patience,” Kanan said quietly, steady as ever. “We passed his check. That’s a win.”

“A win? He saw us. Now he knows two troopers are wandering around where they shouldn’t be. Our cover’s blown before we’ve even started.” Ezra’s voice cracked with restrained anger, and he quickly checked the corridor to make sure they were alone. “This plan is useless. We’re wasting time.”

“And rushing in blind is worse,” Kanan countered firmly. “Every reckless move risks exposure. Patience, Ezra. Emotions are a luxury we can’t afford right now.”

Ezra halted, dragging in a deep breath to force his emotions back down. “So what? We just sit here and wait until it’s too late?” His voice dropped, heavy with guilt. “I shouldn’t have left her there.”

Chapter Text

Ezra sat on the edge of his bed, his fingers nervously tracing the smooth surface of the stormtrooper helmet. He glanced at the chronometer again. Only three minutes had passed. It felt like an hour. Sitting here idle was unbearable. He had to do something. Anything.

His gaze flicked toward Kanan, who was quietly checking their gear. But Ezra could feel the same tension humming in the air of their tiny cabin.

“You know, Kanan… there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you for a while.” Ezra began softly. “From the beginning, you never really liked Nix. And now here we are… risking everything for her. What changed?”

Kanan leaned back against the wall, silent for a long moment, weighing his words carefully.

“Bendu,” he said at last, his tone quiet.

Ezra frowned in surprise. “Bendu? What’s he got to do with this? I thought he stayed out of everything.”

“Most of the time, yes,” Kanan admitted. “But I think he decided our distrust of each other was becoming dangerous. He bound us together in the Force. I saw fragments of her life, and she saw mine.”

Ezra stared at him, trying to process that. “Wow. That must’ve been…”

“Intense,” Kanan finished for him with a nod. “It doesn’t mean I trust her now, Ezra. She’s still… complicated. But I understand why she is the way she is. And I know one thing for certain: in this fight, she isn’t our enemy.”

His voice deepened, carrying more weight. “And I also know she’ll survive. I saw it. Her master taught her how to endure things that would break most of us.”

Ezra fell silent, staring into the empty space before him. “But what if it’s already too late by the time we find her? What if…” His voice faltered, breaking off before he could finish.

Kanan set a steady hand on his shoulder. “Ezra. Get a hold of yourself. You won’t be able to help her like this. We stick to the plan.”

Ezra nodded slowly, though the storm of doubt and fear still churned beneath the surface. He drew in a deep breath, searching for the strength he so desperately needed. At last, a faint smile tugged at his lips… sad, uncertain, but a smile all the same.

“You’re right, Kanan,” he murmured. “I’ve got to trust that somehow we’ll pull this off.”

Kanan gave him a brief nod before turning back to the gear. “Then get ready. Another long day’s ahead of us, and we can’t afford a mistake.”

A sharp chime from the cabin’s terminal made Ezra jolt. He leapt from the bunk and crossed to the screen. A new patrol schedule flashed across the display.

“What is it?” Kanan asked.

Ezra stared at the message for a long moment before slowly turning, disbelief and confusion etched across his face. “They reassigned us,” he said quietly. “New patrol. Sector B-3, cell one-two-nine… But… No. It’s a trap. Kallus knows who we are. He saw us there yesterday, and now he’s sending us back.”

Kanan didn’t answer right away. His expression was a mix of doubt and deep concentration. “Maybe. But it doesn’t add up.”

“Doesn’t add up?” Ezra snapped. “It’s the most obvious trap in the entire galaxy!”

“Exactly,” Kanan replied calmly. “Too obvious. If Kallus had really uncovered us, he would’ve sent a squad to take us down. Or set an ambush. He wouldn’t broadcast it ahead of time with an official order, which would allow us to prepare.”

Kanan stepped back from the terminal. “I’ve been hearing other stormtroopers in the halls. There’s some kind of massive reorganization happening across the ship. Everything’s in flux. Schedules are changing and no one knows where they’re supposed to be. Maybe we just got lucky.”

Ezra blinked at him, incredulous. “Lucky? The odds of that are, like, one in a billion.”

“Not that unlikely,” Kanan said, his voice carrying a new sense of certainty. “This has Fulcrum’s mark all over it… or someone’s working with them. They didn’t issue the order themselves, but they knew this shake-up would happen. They knew the chaos would throw an opportunity in our path, and they trusted we’d be smart enough to see it. This is it, Ezra. Maybe the only shot we’ll get.”

Ezra glanced back at the screen once more. The thought that this might not be a trap but an actual opportunity was both terrifying and thrilling. It meant Fulcrum trusted them… trusted that they could act on their own without being led by the hand.

“So… we’re doing this,” Ezra said, his voice suddenly steadier.

Kanan allowed himself a faint smile. “We’re doing this.”

Ezra nodded, slipped his helmet on, and picked up the blaster rifle waiting by the door. Kanan followed, and together they stepped out into the corridor.

The moment their cabin doors slid open, they were greeted by the sharp, exasperated voice. Ezra immediately spotted two other stormtroopers waving their arms in frustration at a tall officer with a datapad.

“…I’m telling you, I didn’t make those changes! If you’ve got a problem, take it up with Command!”

The corridors of the Star Destroyer were busier than usual, but the chaos caused by the sudden shuffle of patrol assignments seemed to be working in their favor. They passed several other troopers and officers, most of them rushing past them, or locked in heated discussions over the new schedules. No one paid Ezra or Kanan any real attention… which gave Ezra a fragile flicker of confidence.

When they finally reached cell 129 in Sector B-3, Ezra stopped before the heavy doors and cast a nervous look toward Kanan. His master gave him a brief nod, urging him forward.

Ezra stepped up to the control panel and keyed in today’s access code that came with the transfer orders. A red light blinked above the door, and with a sharp hiss, the heavy blast doors began to part. His chest tightened, his breath catching in his throat.

Inside stood two stormtroopers, both of them radiating boredom from a long, uneventful shift. One of them turned as the doors opened and groaned, “Finally. I’ve got cramps from standing here all day.”

The other trooper nodded and gave Ezra a friendly pat on the shoulder as he passed. “See you at rotation tonight,” he muttered with a weary sigh.

Kanan answered only with a curt nod, and the two troopers stepped out. The doors sealed shut behind them.

And then Ezra looked up… and saw Nix.

She was suspended inside the shimmering glow of the containment field, her head bowed, strands of hair falling across her face. Her body seemed drained, lifeless, beaten down by exhaustion.

As his stomach twisted with a mix of nerves and hope, his trained eyes quickly scanned the room for threats. His gaze fell on the sensor grid high on the cell’s ceiling. Its indicator lights were dark. It was offline.

That small detail, that split-second observation, was all the encouragement he needed. Without thinking, he took a step toward her but froze as Kanan’s firm hand clamped down on his arm. Ezra turned, startled, not understanding why he had stopped him.

“Someone’s coming,” Kanan whispered tensely.

Almost immediately, the red indicator above the blast doors lit up again, accompanied by a sharp tone announcing an incoming entry. Panic surged through Ezra’s chest, mixing with bitter disappointment. He stood rooted to the spot, tightening his grip on his weapon as his heart pounded harder with every passing second.

He looked back at Nix, lips pressed tightly together.

“We’ll handle this,” Kanan murmured calmly beside him, as if he could feel Ezra’s fear. “Stay calm.”

Ezra gave a quick nod, though calm was the last thing he felt capable of.

Darkness. Silence. And the pounding pain behind his eyes, reminding him of every miserable second of his cursed day. The Twelfth Brother sat on the edge of his bed, leaning against the cold durasteel wall, trying to ignore the slow sway of the room. The empty bottle in his hand was weightless. Too weightless.

I will not trouble you with such matters. Thrawn’s voice echoed in his skull.

A knock at the door. Quiet, almost hesitant. He ignored it. ‘Why can’t you all just leave me the fuck alone?’

Silence. Then another knock, louder this time. “Inquisitor?”

That voice. That painfully optimistic, naive voice. ‘Of course. The babysitter.’ The rage that had been simmering all day finally had a target. With a low growl, he rose to his feet.

The doors hissed open, and the moment he saw her silhouette, the bottle flew from his hand. It shattered against the wall just beside her with a sharp, satisfying crash.

“I said I wanted to be alone!” he roared, his voice raw with alcohol and fury.

She flinched instinctively, ducking behind that pathetic datapad of hers. ‘Yeah, great shield. That would’ve really saved you if I’d been aiming.’

“Yes, I know, I’m sorry…” she began hesitantly. Her gaze flicked nervously over the scattered bottles littering the floor. “Did you… did you drink all of that?”

“Yeah, and what the fuck is it to you?” he snapped, his skull throbbing. “I don’t give a shit about Thrawn or his orders. He can wait till morning for all I care.”

Mei stepped closer, her expression softening, her tone gentle. “Inquisitor… if you keep this up, you could be in serious trouble. Please. Come with me.”

‘She thinks she could help me?’ The idea was so naive it was almost funny. A raw, ugly laugh escaped his throat.

“Trouble? You have no fucking idea what trouble is, sweetheart. My entire life has been me, neck-deep in shit, just trying not to drown. First, it was the Jedi and their high-and-mighty bantha shit. Then that fucking… Nar Shaddaa… Then the Inquisitorius and its backstabbing politics. Then Vader and his… lessons.” He spat the word out like poison. “And now I get this art-collecting cunt telling me how to do my job?!”

He shoved himself off the bed and started pacing, caged and furious. “This whole Inquisitor gig… I thought it was supposed to mean something. Turns out we were just attack dogs. Fucking disposable. And my reward for surviving it all is to be a glorified lapdog for some pompous asshole in a clean white suit.”

“Inquisitor, I… I understand this is a difficult situation,” Mei said carefully. “But I can help you, if you’ll just let me—”

She reached out, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want your fucking help!” he spat, shoving her hand away. “I don’t need anyone’s pity.”

The words left him hollow. The fire guttered out, leaving only cold ash.

‘Pathetic. Just listen to yourself. Whining wreck.’

His voice cracked into a low, bitter whisper he despised. “Nothing I do matters anymore… none of it… Just leave me alone…”

Mei stood in silence, her expression a portrait of quiet sorrow. Finally, she stepped back. “It’s your choice, Inquisitor,” she said softly. “But if you change your mind… call me. Please. Just ask.”

The doors slid shut behind her, and the silence left in her wake was worse than any shouting. Heavy, suffocating, filled only with his failures. He let his head fall against the cold wall, eyes closing. The pain wasn’t just pounding in his temples… it radiated from beneath the metal plating fused to the back of his skull. A constant reminder. A dull, merciless reminder of what happens when you fail.

He’d never asked for this. He’d never wanted to be an Inquisitor. But no one had ever given him a choice.

He knew what would happen if he faced Thrawn like this. And this time, the punishment would be final. Permanent.

‘Fierfek.’ The realization hit like an icy blade. ‘I need help.’

Just admitting it felt worse than any insult. To say the words out loud—to that naive girl, of all people—was unbearable. His pride screamed in protest. But then the memory of mechanical breathing echoed in his skull, and fear drowned out the rest.

With a trembling hand, he grabbed the comlink. The moment her soft voice answered, he froze, shame closing around his throat.

Still, he forced the words out, ragged and clipped. “Quinn. My quarters. Now.” He cut the line before she could respond.

He hurled the comlink onto the wall. She had to come to him. Saying I need your help was beyond him. But she’d understand.

Lying back, he pulled an arm across his eyes as though to block out light, though the room was already dim. Waiting was worse than the call itself. His mind spun in circles, rehearsing what he’d say when she arrived.

‘What the fuck am I supposed to say to her? Nothing. I’ll just sit here and let her patch me up like some broken fucking toy.’ The humiliation burned hotter than the alcohol in his throat.

When the hiss of the doors finally came, he didn’t move. He cracked one eye open and watched her silhouette step inside. That mild, understanding look on her face made him want to punch something.

“I’m here, Inquisitor,” she said softly as she walked closer.

He didn’t sit up right away. Just glanced at her from where he slouched on the bunk. “Fine,” he muttered. “So how exactly are you gonna help me?”

Mei nodded and handed him an injector. “This will get you back on your feet.”

The Twelfth Brother turned it over in his hands, examining it suspiciously. “What is it? Some kind of stim?”

“Something better,” Mei replied with the faintest smile. “It’s an antitoxin. It’ll clear your system.”

“Antitoxin?” he repeated slowly, snorting. “That’s for poisoning, not hangovers.”

“And what do you think alcohol is?” she said with that gentle, almost teacherly smile. “Just an old trick.”

He snorted again, mocking, but in the end pressed the injector to his neck and fired. The substance burned cold against his skin. ‘Fine. Let’s see your miracle.’

He shoved the applicator back at her. “So? Do I wait a week?” His tone dripped with skepticism.

“Only a moment,” Mei assured him and without warning, offered her hand to help him stand.

He froze, glaring at her hand like it was the most poisonous thing in the galaxy. ‘No. Don’t fucking touch me.’

But the room was still tilting at the edges, and he knew damn well he wasn’t getting up on his own. With a low growl—more humiliation than anger—he reluctantly took her hand.

She braced herself, and with a grunt of effort, he dragged his two-meter frame to its feet. He loomed over her, a giant of muscle and cybernetics supported by this slip of a girl whose head barely came up to his chest. The sheer absurdity of it was almost enough to make him laugh.

And yet, for one fleeting moment, he leaned on her unwavering support more than he’d ever admit. It was the first solid thing in his world in hours.

As soon as he was upright, he released her hand like it burned. Mei gave him a steady look. “Grand Admiral Thrawn is expecting you. We really should go.”

He let out an irritated grunt. “Perfect. Time for another lecture from Admiral Know-It-All.”

“Don’t worry,” Mei said calmly, though there was surprising firmness in her tone. “I’ll think of something.”

He shook his head in silence. ‘You’ll think of something? Against Thrawn? Good kriffing luck.’ But he had no choice except to follow her out into the sterile corridors of the ship.

They walked side by side. Wordless. With each step, the so-called miracle started to take hold. The pounding in his skull eased, replaced by a clarity that was almost worse. His thoughts began to align, sharper now, and with that clarity came the most irritating question of all: Why?

By the time they reached sector B-3, Thrawn was already waiting. He stood before the cell doors, hands folded neatly behind his back, watching the chaos in the corridor with cold detachment. Not impatience, just observation. When they approached, his crimson eyes shifted toward the Inquisitor without haste. He spoke only once they stood directly in front of him.

“Five minutes and twenty-seven seconds later than anticipated, Inquisitor,” Thrawn said quietly, his tone completely flat. Not a question. A statement. “I trust the delay had a relevant cause.”

The Inquisitor drew in breath to answer, but Mei was faster. “The fault is mine, Grand Admiral. The reorganization caused confusion among the patrols. The Inquisitor was kind enough to assist me in settling a disciplinary matter,” she explained with crisp, professional deference.

Thrawn’s gaze shifted to her. His expression revealed nothing. No flicker of muscle, no narrowing of the eyes.

“An interesting initiative, Lieutenant,” Thrawn said at last. “Ensure that your ingenuity does not interfere with the established schedule in the future.” With that, he turned to the terminal and keyed in the access code.

The Inquisitor glanced back at Mei as the cell doors began to open. Her encouraging smile, her soft words: “You’ll manage”, rang in his ears like a bad joke.

‘Manage what? More humiliation?’ he thought bitterly. ‘Why the fuck does she even care?’ The question echoed, unanswered. Naivety? Stupidity? Or a game he hadn’t figured out yet? In his world, nobody risked their neck for someone else unless there was something in it.

He watched her turn and disappear down the corridor. That feeling she stirred in his system—an anomaly he couldn’t classify—had no place here. He shook his head, forcing her image away, and stepped in behind Thrawn into the cell. Work. It was the only thing left to him.

The Inquisitor leaned back against the wall beside the control panel, his fingers hovering just above the shock trigger. ‘At least there’s one thing in this room I can control.’

He watched as the prisoner slowly lifted her head. Even through the exhaustion and pain, that infuriatingly arrogant defiance still radiated from her.

“You two again? You must really like me,” Nix rasped, her voice hoarse but dripping with sarcasm.

‘Still thinks she’s fucking funny,’ the Inquisitor thought with disgust.

Thrawn ignored the remark completely. “I’ve had time to revisit the history of your former Empire,” he began calmly, as if resuming some academic lecture that had merely been paused. “I must admit, your patriotism is truly fascinating. It gives a certain context to your… current circumstances.”

Nix only scoffed.

“Order. Absolute discipline. Strength as the highest principle,” Thrawn continued, as though quoting from some ancient textbook. “Concepts you seem to understand intimately. The current Empire stands on the same foundations. I offer you the opportunity to once again become part of something you already believe in.”

‘Bantha shit,’ the Inquisitor thought. ‘He’s trying to crawl inside her head. Waste of time.’

“And in return, what—lifelong gratitude and obedience?” Nix shot back, her tone sharp and sarcastic.

“Only cooperation,” Thrawn replied evenly. “And to prove my goodwill, I could recommend you for a certain… position. A position of authority. It would be a waste to squander your talent on a rebellion that abandoned you here.”

‘Here it comes,’ the Inquisitor thought, watching her reaction more closely.

For just a heartbeat, Nix froze. “They can still come,” she said, though her voice wavered with less certainty.

“Perhaps,” Thrawn allowed. “But consider this: the position of Grand Inquisitor has been vacant for some time.” As he spoke the words, his eyes did not rest on Nix, but slid deliberately toward the Twelfth Brother.

‘Grand Inquisitor?!’ The words hit harder than any insult. That title. The highest rank in the entire Inquisitorius. Years of pain, servitude, humiliation—everything he and the others had endured—and Thrawn was dangling it in front of this girl like some cheap bribe? As if it meant nothing?

“What the fuck?!” he shouted before he could stop himself. “You can’t be serious!”

Thrawn cut him off with a voice as cold as the void between stars. “Your emotional response has been noted. And deemed… inadequate. Remain calm.”

The Inquisitor clenched his fists so tightly the servos in his cybernetic hand groaned. Inside him burned a pure, seething rage.

Thrawn turned back to Nix. “As I was saying, with your abilities and knowledge, you could be a great asset to the Empire.”

Nix smirked faintly. “And what if I’m not the kind of person who switches sides just because someone dangles a shinier title?”

The Inquisitor seethed. ‘You like playing with your toys, don’t you, Admiral? Let’s see how they break.’

His hand slid casually—almost lazily—down to the controls. He pressed the button and held it longer than necessary. The hiss filled the room as Nix screamed in pain, her body arching violently against the field.

“Inquisitor!” Thrawn spun on him. “You have damaged a valuable resource. I require her mind intact.”

The Twelfth Brother released the switch slowly, though the fire of satisfaction still burned in his eyes. He looked at Thrawn with frozen composure. “Defiance must be punished, Admiral,” he said through his teeth, quoting doctrine like a line from a manual. “That’s standard procedure.”

The pain vanished as suddenly as it had struck, leaving behind only the taste of burned metal in her mouth and a violent tremor in every muscle.

‘All right. That hurts. A lot. But it’s survivable,’ she told herself, forcing her breath into rhythm, exactly as Elkazar had taught her. ‘That Inquisitor’s a hotheaded idiot. He’s losing control. And the other one—the Chiss—he’s watching. Observing.’ The realization struck her like lightning. ‘He’s studying both of us.’

The thought gave her a bitter surge of strength. With every ounce of willpower, muscle by muscle, she forced her body to obey. Slowly, haltingly, she raised her head and locked her eyes on Thrawn, deliberately ignoring the Inquisitor.

“Interesting interrogation tactic, Admiral,” she rasped, lips curling into a weak but mocking smile. “Maybe you two should coordinate. As it is, you look a little… disorganized.”

Thrawn turned to her. Not a flicker of irritation crossed his face. “Your ability to assess a power dynamic, even under duress, is… remarkable.”

Then his gaze shifted to the Inquisitor. His voice was cold steel.

“Inquisitor. The prisoner just exploited your emotional instability as a tactical advantage,” Thrawn said slowly and clearly, as though dictating a battlefield report. “Your outbursts provide her with information. Control yourself.”

The Inquisitor inhaled sharply, ready to spit back a retort, but under Thrawn’s icy stare, he only clenched his fists and ground out through his teeth: “Understood, Grand Admiral.” The way he said it sounded like an insult.

Nix watched him with grim satisfaction. “Look at him,” she rasped. “Already learning. Maybe he’ll make a good doggy one day.”

Thrawn ignored the jab and returned his attention to her, his tone perfectly calm. “Very well. Let us continue. How did you come to join the rebels?”

Nix realized her strategy of stonewalling might not be enough anymore.

‘That Inquisitor,’ A dangerous new plan began to take shape in her mind. ‘Push him just a little more, and he’ll snap. That’s all it takes.’

“Maybe I’d even consider your offer,” she said suddenly, directing it at the Inquisitor with a faint, provocative smile. “Grand Inquisitor. Has a nice ring to it. But then I look at you and think… what’s a title worth without real power? You’re just tools in someone else’s hand. And I will never let myself be reduced to a tool.”

The Inquisitor lunged a step forward, his hand dropping to the hilt of his lightsaber. “One more fucking word,” he snarled through clenched teeth, “and I’ll rip that tongue right out of your f—”

But Thrawn raised a hand. Just a slight motion of his fingers, yet enough to cut off the Inquisitor’s tirade. That quiet, commanding gesture stopped him cold, though the rage still radiated off him like heat from an open furnace.

‘Good. This works. Now the other one.’ She shifted her focus back to Thrawn. ‘The Chiss. High rank. With them, it’s always about pride.’

Her eyes locked on his. “Chiss,” she said slowly, almost musing. “Funny you made it this far. I’ve studied your people. Always valued for your logic. But never for leading armies.”

Thrawn only stared at her, his face carved from stone. That absolute lack of reaction unsettled her.

“That detail isn’t from the archives,” he stated with glacial calm, as if announcing an analysis. “The tone in your voice. That trace of disdain. That is not the perspective of a historian quoting data. That is the perspective of someone speaking from direct, personal experience.”

He leaned in slightly. “Let us set your feeble lies aside. Tell me about that experience, Nix.”

Suddenly it wasn’t the interrogation of an admiral. It was the cross-examination of an intelligence chief—cold, predatory, singularly focused on one objective: information.

Nix stared back in silence. Two thoughts warred in her mind. The first was Ezra, the Ghost crew, the fragile hope that they might still come for her. But the second was colder, harsher, born from years of Sith conditioning: ‘No one’s coming. You’re on your own… And you’ve got nothing left to lose.’

She sensed the information she held was somehow valuable to him—valuable enough that Thrawn would eventually peel it from her piece by piece. Unless she ended this interrogation now. And in this room, there was only one tool unstable and predictable enough to make that happen.

With new, desperate resolve, she slowly turned her gaze to the Inquisitor. Her voice was quiet, but dripping with venom.

“I wonder if it’s occurred to you yet, Admiral,” Nix said, though her eyes were locked on the Inquisitor, “that you’ve brought the wrong tool to the table.”

Then she smirked straight at him. “Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you only bark when your master lets you.”

That was the breaking point. The Inquisitor’s face twisted with unrestrained rage as he roared and slammed his fist down on the control panel. Another surge of electricity tore through the containment field, far stronger than before. The shock ripped through her body, forcing a sharp cry from her throat, and a thin line of blood slipped down her chin.

Then came only pain… and darkness. But it wasn’t just the emptiness of unconsciousness. All sound dulled, the hiss of the field melting into a deep, distant hum. The lights of the cell dissolved into a haze of gray, and the agony of the current flattened into a weightless numbness.

The hum started to sound… familiar. The engines of a Fury-class Interceptor. The fog before her eyes slowly reshaped into the walls of a cabin, the muted glow of a lamp. She was no longer suspended in a field. She was seated on something soft. Her old bed.

She opened her eyes, and there it was. Her cabin aboard Elkazar’s ship. On the table, one of the ancient Sith holocrons pulsed with red light like a malignant heart. Everything was exactly as she remembered. Too exact.

‘This isn’t real,’ was her first cold, instinctive thought. ‘But memories are never this clean.’

Then came the soft knock at the door.

“…Yeah?” she said, her voice strange in the surreal quiet.

The door opened, and Darth Elkazar stepped inside. He looked exactly as he had: tall, powerful, with that tired smile he wore only for her. And that was the cruelest part.

“You wanted to speak with me?” he asked gently.

It was a trap. She knew it. A perfect illusion once again born of her desperate mind… or something far worse. But even knowing it was a lie, the hunger to hear his voice again, to finally have answers, was stronger than her caution. It was weakness. And she chose, just for a moment, to yield to it.

“Why did you leave me?” she whispered, pain raw in her voice, hating herself for letting it show. “Why couldn’t I stay with you?”

Elkazar’s expression fell into sorrow. Perfectly rendered sorrow. Exactly as she remembered it. The illusion was flawless.

“I never left you,” he said softly. “Everything I did was to protect you… from my own failure.”

‘Failure?’ she thought. ‘That’s new.’ Her curiosity edged past her caution. “What failure? What do you mean?”

Elkazar drew a deep breath, his gaze drifting into the distance, just as he always did when dredging up old memories. “Because from the beginning, you were never only my apprentice. You were… like my daughter. And for a Sith, such a bond is weakness. A flaw.”

Weakness. The word resonated like a blade twisting inside her. It was the lesson he had driven into her since childhood, and now turned back against her.

“But…” she began slowly, “you always told me you didn’t care what the others thought.”

“And that was my mistake. Because of that weakness, I overlooked the threats gathering around us,” he continued. “Emperor’s betrayal. The chaos to come. The Purge. Instead of preparing you for what was coming, I tried to shield you. And when it was too late, the only thing left was to hide you and hope you would awaken in a better world.”

The words were perfectly shaped to strike her… removing the guilt, placing it all on him. Turning her into the victim of his devotion, not the product of his failure. It was everything she wanted to hear. Which meant it couldn’t be true.

“And you?” she asked, her tone sharpening. “What happened to you?”

Elkazar looked at her and closed his eyes. “What remains of that answer waits on Korriban.” But his voice no longer sounded like Elkazar’s. For an instant, it was something colder, an alien authority.

“I’ll never make it to Korriban,” she said, despair breaking through. “I’m trapped. I might even die here.”

“Death is an illusion,” the phantom Elkazar replied. “But oblivion is real. Go to Korriban.”

The image of Elkazar disintegrated into dust, replaced by cold, mocking laughter reverberating through the void.

“Can’t you just leave me alone?!” Nix screamed into the darkness, though she knew it was useless.

“Why do you resist the inevitable, little Sith?” The voice was deep. And too familiar.

Slowly, she turned. Valkorion stood before her, his spectral form radiating calm, arrogant power.

“What do you want now?” she hissed through her teeth. “Why are you even doing this?”

“I want what you want: for you to survive,” Valkorion said, a faint, knowing smile curving his lips. “And yet you cling so desperately to a path that can only end in death. Why hold so tightly to these rebels? They are but the echo of a fallen Republic. A temporary aberration.”

“They’re not temporary,” Nix shot back. “They’re hope.”

Valkorion’s quiet laugh was like a blade sliding under her skin. “Hope? Empire, Rebellion, Republic… mere names on the same worthless coin. An endless cycle of chaos. But you… you are different. You come from a time when Sith waged war not for planets, but for the very fabric of reality. Do not let that legacy die for a handful of idealists.”

“What are you even talking about? I’m no Tulak Hord,” she answered softly, though her defiance faltered under the weight of his words.

“No, you’re not. But you can be much more,” he allowed, stepping closer. “You are an anomaly with potential unseen in this galaxy for millennia. This is not only your chance to survive, Nixelle. This is your chance to finally claim destiny.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” she whispered.

“Everyone does,” Valkorion replied, his smile full of cold triumph. “Only the strong have the courage to seize it. I do not lie, little Sith. I have no need. Look within yourself. You feel it, don’t you? That hunger… for life, for power, for answers. That is your destiny. Accept it. Survive. And the truth you seek will be yours.”

With those words, Valkorion’s form began to dissolve, leaving her alone in the void with nothing but the echo of his command:

Survive.

The silence that followed after the door shut was worse than her scream. Ezra just stood there, eyes fixed on the spot where Thrawn and the Inquisitor had disappeared, trying to swallow the nausea rising in his chest. His hands were shaking so badly he had to clench them into fists just to stop it. This was worse than any fight. This was pure, absolute helplessness.

“Do you… do you think she’s okay?” Ezra turned to Kanan, his voice barely above a whisper, heavy with desperation.

Kanan stood motionless, as if listening to something Ezra couldn’t hear. He didn’t answer right away… just tilted his head slightly. “Her presence in the Force is faint,” Kanan said quietly at last. “Like an echo. That shock must have been incredibly strong.”

Ezra’s throat tightened at the words. His eyes drifted to Nix, hanging limp in the shimmer of the field, her head slumped lifelessly to the side.

He stepped toward her, but before he could take another step, Kanan’s hand clamped down on his shoulder. The movement was sharp, precise.

“Wait,” Kanan warned. “We don’t know what’s being monitored. Cameras, sensors—”

“The main grid is down,” Ezra breathed back, gently shaking free from his grasp. “And I have to know if she’s okay.” He walked up to the edge of the containment field.

Pulling off his helmet, the cold, recycled air of the cell stung his face. He reached out, fingertips brushing her pale cheek with the lightest touch. “Nix… Nix, can you hear me?”

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then her eyelids fluttered weakly. With visible effort, she forced them open. Her gaze was clouded, darting around the room before finally settling on him. A ragged breath slipped past her lips.

“This…” she whispered so faintly he had to lean closer to catch it. A faint, crooked smile tugged at her mouth. “…is a much better hallucination.”

“Nix, no, it’s not… this is real,” Ezra said quickly, cupping her cold face in his hands as if he could anchor her to reality. “I’m real. We’re here for you.”

She gave him that tired, broken little smile. “Of course you are. My hallucinations are always stubborn.” Then her eyes, fogged with pain, hardened as much as they could in her condition. “I don’t regret anything… If you’re safe… it was worth it.”

Ezra shook his head desperately. “No, Nix, listen to me. You belong with us.” His voice cracked. “We’re not leaving you here. Just hold on. Please. Give us one more day.”

Her golden eyes focused on him one last time, carrying a strange, quiet melancholy. Her lips moved, and he barely caught the words.

“Take care of yourself… Ezra…”

And then her eyes slipped closed again, her head dropping limply to the side. She was unconscious.

Ezra stood frozen for a few heartbeats. The silence in the cell was deafening. Without another word, he shoved his helmet back on, the static hiss of the comm almost a relief. Finally, he turned to Kanan.

“Why?” he asked, his voice distorted and hollow through the helmet’s vocoder. “Why would she do that? Why provoke him?”

Kanan was quiet for a moment, his stance calm, centered. “Because it was the only thing she could do,” he said at last. “A desperate, dangerous… but clever tactic. Thrawn wanted information. By forcing the Inquisitor to lose control, she forced Thrawn to end the interrogation. She couldn’t give anything away.”

“Or he could’ve killed her,” Ezra shot back, raw pain in his voice.

Kanan stepped closer and placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “Thrawn needs her alive, Ezra. She’s too valuable to him. That Inquisitor is just a tool… and one that just failed. For now, she’s safer with Thrawn than with him.” His voice hardened with new resolve. “And that’s what we’ll use. Tomorrow. We move to phase two.”

Ezra looked back at Nix’s limp body hanging in the bluish glow. The pain and doubt still gnawed at him, but beneath them now something else was forming. Cold, steel resolve.

“Right,” he said at last, and his voice inside the helmet no longer sounded broken. It sounded like a promise.

Chapter Text

Nix slowly opened her eyes. The pain that had wrapped around her returned with every beat of her heart. Her body ached, every muscle screaming in protest against the constant strain of fighting the containment field, which was holding her motionless.

Time had lost all meaning. How long had she been here? Two days? Three? Her mouth was as dry as the deserts of Korriban, and every attempt to swallow felt like scraping sandpaper down her throat. What had been a simple irritation was now a pulsing agony. The thirst clouded her every thought.

When the signal flared and the cell doors hissed open, her heart lurched unpleasantly. She expected the Inquisitor to return, ready to mindlessly torture her again, but to her surprise, only Grand Admiral Thrawn stepped inside.

Nix exhaled. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me. But I guess we have to keep up with tradition.”

Thrawn tilted his head slightly, answering with calm precision. “Traditions can be valuable—especially the ones that reveal more about us than we realize.”

Her gaze flicked to the empty space by the door. “Where’s your hound?” she asked with thin disdain, thinking of the Inquisitor.

“He’ll arrive later,” Thrawn replied evenly.

Thrawn activated a small holoprojector. A starmap shimmered to life before her. “The regions your old Empire knew,” he said evenly, “and those it did not. The Unknown Regions. Your knowledge could fill many gaps in our archives.”

Nix stared at him in silence. She hadn’t expected him to ask about star charts thousands of years old.

“Your Empire,” Thrawn continued, “favored numerical superiority and the efficiency of hundreds of warships... A logical and admirable choice. But every strategy has its limits. Tell me, what kind of threat was your fleet unprepared to face?”

This wasn’t a casual question. ‘What’s he up to?’ she thought instantly. ‘No torture, no pressure. Just questions. Forcing me to think, to dig deep into my memory while I’m already broken down physically. He’s trying to wear me out mentally.’ Yet she still couldn’t see why he was asking this.

“Every power eventually meets one greater,” she answered at last, quoting an old Sith proverb to buy time.

“I’m not speaking of size,” Thrawn corrected immediately. “I mean nature. Internal threats like betrayal are predictable. Conventional enemies like the Republic as well. But what of threats from outside? From the unknown? Threats governed by a logic other than your own? What were the official protocols for first contact with technologically advanced civilizations discovered in the Unknown Regions?”

“Protocol?” Nix echoed, her tone laced with mocking amusement. “There was only ever one protocol. It was called Assessment of Usefulness.”

She watched his face remain perfectly still, but she could feel the air in the room shift.

“Evaluate their resources, measure their military strength, and decide whether it was more efficient to crush them outright or absorb them as subjugated allies. If they were disciplined and useful enough, of course.”

She paused, then gave him the most poisonous, sickly-sweet smile she could manage.

“I don’t know why it interests you, Admiral, but rest assured… your people passed the test. Congratulations. You were deemed… useful.”

Thrawn’s face didn’t move a muscle. Not even a twitch, or a flicker of an eyelid. His crimson eyes just continued to study her, analyzing her. Nix braced for anger, for scorn, for cold contempt. Instead, his absolute, almost inhuman lack of reaction was more unsettling than any outburst.

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, flat, and utterly unshaken, as though her insult were nothing more than another datapoint in his equation.

“An interesting philosophical stance,” he noted. “You have, however, confirmed the existence of a protocol. That is sufficient for my purposes.”

“That’s it?” Nix asked, her voice caught between triumph and confusion.

“For today,” Thrawn replied without looking back.

At that moment, the signal by the door chimed. Thrawn, just about to leave, paused. For a fraction of a second, a shadow of icy impatience flickered in his eyes.

The Twelfth Brother moved down the corridor with a sick, crawling feeling in his gut. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Mei walking beside him. Her expression was calm and professional, as if nothing had happened the day before. And that was what pissed him off most. No sympathetic looks, no questions. Just quiet, efficient support. He couldn’t figure her out.

They finally reached Section B-3. Cell 129. The Inquisitor didn’t slow his pace. He knew Thrawn was already inside and had started without him. Instinctively, he straightened, fixed his impenetrable mask in place, and stepped to the panel, ready to walk straight into the Grand Admiral’s game.

The scene inside was taut and silent. Thrawn stood calmly in the center of the cell, hands clasped behind his back, studying his precious prisoner. They were clearly in the middle of a conversation.

Thrawn didn’t turn as the door opened. He simply finished his thought to Nix as though nothing had changed. Only then did he slowly, almost lazily, turn toward them.

“Inquisitor,” Thrawn said, his voice cutting through the silence. “Your timing is… as always… curious.”

The Inquisitor clenched his fists but said nothing. He knew better than to try. ‘Fine. Next time I won’t fucking bother showing up at all…’

Thrawn shifted his gaze back to Nix, then back again. “It seems my initial analysis has encountered an emotional barrier. The prisoner refuses to accept logical arguments.” He took a step aside and gestured toward the panel. “Perhaps your… more direct methods… will prove effective in removing that barrier. The interrogation is yours.”

‘Of course. He leaves me the dirty work so he can stand back and watch me fail. Another fucking test.’

As the Inquisitor approached the console, a small indicator light crackled and flickered, then steadied again. He ignored it as just another sign of decaying tech on this ship.

“My presence is required elsewhere,” Thrawn continued, heading for the door. At the threshold, he paused, his voice sharpening by a degree. “But make certain she survives for further analysis.

“You are responsible for him, Lieutenant Quinn. Ensure he adheres to the established parameters.”

“Yes, sir,” Mei answered with composed professionalism.

When the doors hissed shut behind Thrawn, the Inquisitor drew a long breath and turned toward Nix. The brief flicker of triumph he’d felt was instantly replaced by a bitter resentment.

His stare was cold, calculating. He knew this cell wasn’t being actively monitored, but even so, he had to be careful. No mindless torture. Precision strikes. Find the weakness and push.

“All right,” he said, his tone calm, almost indifferent. “Here’s the game. I’ll ask about your friends. For every answer I don’t like, I crank up the shocks. Simple enough?”

Nix lifted her head, her eyes weary but her lips quirking in a faint, ironic smile. “I don’t know who’s more desperate… me, or the dog hoping his master finally lets him off the leash.”

‘Trying to hit home, already?’ he thought, but his face didn’t so much as twitch. Her defiance was expected. It was just her armor.

“Let’s start light,” he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken at all. “Jarrus. Your blind Master. Is he even worth a damn in a fight anymore, when he can’t see shit?”

“And why would I tell you that?” Nix shot back, her voice thin but steady.

“Wrong answer.” His finger pressed the control, and a sharp jolt ripped through her body. Nix hissed in pain. It was perfectly measured—enough to hurt, not enough to break her focus.

‘Fuck this. I don’t need to run some fucking textbook interrogation…’

“Fine, I get it…” Nix rasped, forcing a breath back into her lungs. “So what do you want to know?”

The Twelfth Brother straightened and stepped closer, his shadow swallowing her where she hung. “Second question. That boyfriend of yours, Bridger. What’s the deal there? Are you just holding hands, or is there something more to it?”

Nix gave a faint smile. “Looking for my weak spots, huh? That’s all you see in anyone, isn’t it? Weakness. Maybe that’s why you can’t hide your own.”

His cybernetic hand clenched into a fist. ‘Easy. It’s just a game. Just words.’ He pressed the control again. Another sharp jolt. Nix gasped for breath.

“Wrong answer,” he said coldly. “Try again.”

“Ezra… he’s a naive fool,” Nix said, locking her gaze with his. “He might even believe there’s still something good buried in someone like you. But even he’s better than a broken tool just waiting to be tossed aside.”

That was it. That word. Tool. Again. It hissed in his ears like steam venting from a ruptured pipe. She’d hit the nerve dead center.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarled as his cybernetic fist slammed into her face. She hadn’t expected it. Her head snapped to the side and blood welled on her lip.

“Inquisitor!” Mei cried, stepping forward.

“Stay where the fuck you are, Quinn!” he snarled, his eyes locked on Nix.

Nix wiped the blood away with her tongue and slowly turned her head back toward him. A cold, triumphant look burned in her eyes. “Got you, didn’t I? You know I’m right. You’re nothing but a weapon. A broken one at that.”

That was the breaking point. All strategy, all cold calculation, gone. The roar in his ears built like pressure about to rupture. The cell lights dimmed for a heartbeat, the monitors tracking Nix’s vitals flickering as if they’d lost their signal.

What remained inside him was pure, consuming rage. He didn’t say a word… he didn’t need to. His fist came down on the control panel, again and again.

The containment field flared violently, discharging one massive, uncontrolled surge straight into her. Nix’s body arched, then went limp, hanging in the shimmering blue glow. Blood dripped from her mouth.

“Enough! You’ll kill her!” Mei shouted, throwing herself between him and the sparking panel. Her small frame became a sudden barrier, and her desperate cry snapped him out of the red haze. He staggered back, breath ragged.

Nix dangled unconscious, blood still trailing from her lips. Her vitals blinked in angry red across the monitors.

‘Shit.’ The thought hit like a punch. ‘Thrawn said he needs her alive.’ But a darker thought quickly replaced it. Vader.

He froze, as if sheer will could halt time. The air itself felt charged, heavy, static crawling up the back of his neck. The lights buzzed overhead, flickering erratically.

“Status?” he barked, voice raw but steady. It wasn’t a plea—it was a commander’s demand.

Mei was already at the terminal, her eyes racing over the data. “She’s in bad shape… we need medical support.”

“Is she alive?” The weight of the question dragged every word.

“Yes… for now,” Mei said, already raising her comlink. “André, don’t ask me questions. We have a medical emergency in Section B-3. I need you here now.”

While Mei handled the aftermath, the Inquisitor turned to the two stormtroopers who’d witnessed everything. He stepped toward them slowly, and they shrank back instinctively.

“You didn’t see shit,” he said, voice low, carrying a threat sharper than any blade. “This never happened. If Thrawn—or anyone—asks, it was a systems failure. Understood?”

One trooper snapped a quick nod. “Understood, sir.”

“Good,” the Inquisitor said, his glare cold enough to cut durasteel. “Because if you forget, once the admiral’s finished with me, I’ll come for you next.”

He turned away, the adrenaline bleeding out of his system, leaving only the heavy drag of emptiness. Mei ended her call with the doctor.

“He’s on his way,” she said quietly, though her tone stayed crisp, controlled. Her calm clashed with the chaos storming inside him. “We shouldn’t be here when he arrives. It would be… complicated. Come, Inquisitor.”

Her hand brushed his arm. This time, he didn’t shake her off. He just gave a numb nod and let her lead him out of the cell… away from the scene of his failure.

He walked beside her, blind to his surroundings. The corridors of the Chimaera blurred into streaks of gray. His head was filled only with noise: Nix’s scream, the imagined chill of Thrawn’s eyes, the phantom crush of Vader’s hand at his throat. His cybernetic hand pressed hard against his temple, as though he could shove the chaos out of his skull. He had failed. Again. So blatantly, so stupidly. And the weight of his own weakness was crushing him.

Mei noticed the empty, haunted look in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, Inquisitor,” she said softly. “It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

Her words pulled him, for just a moment, out of the spiral. He looked at her, unsettled by the calm steadiness in her voice.

“Nothing’s going to get fixed…” He jerked his head vaguely back toward the cell. “That was my last shot at proving I’m not… expendable.” He shook his head. “And instead? Instead, I’m fetching drinks for some admiral and letting a girl in chains push my buttons. I’m a joke.”

He froze, not even sure why he was telling her this. He looked back at Mei. “Why are you trying to help me?”

Mei’s smile was warm, disarmingly genuine. “Because I think you’re worth more than you believe. And because you’re a hero of the Empire.”

The Inquisitor just stared at her, speechless. ‘A hero?’ All he could see were the broken soldiers and nameless graves the Empire left in its wake. Heroes were just a pretty lie for recruits and children. ‘Where the fuck does she get this bantha shit?’

“Heroes at least get to keep their ships. I won’t even get to keep that fucking Reaper when this is over.”

‘…If I even make it out alive.’

Something flickered in Mei’s eyes. “Maybe I could help with that. I’d just need the serial number.”

“How?” He gave her a skeptical look. “Don’t tell me some random lieutenant on some random star-destroyer can mess with Imperial ship registries.”

“No,” she admitted with a small, almost mischievous smile. “But I have friends.” She leaned in just a little. “So what’s the number?”

“I don’t know… Never really cared,” he muttered, looking away.

“That’s fine,” Mei waved it off. “Come on. We’ll find it in the hangar system.”

She strode down the corridor with brisk confidence, and he followed, dull and heavy-footed. They reached the control room adjoining the main hangar. A hunched ISB officer stood at one of the terminals.

Mei greeted him with that same bright, friendly smile the Inquisitor was starting to recognize as her default setting.

“Agent Kallus! What a coincidence running into you here,” she said cheerfully. “I hope the crew of the Chimaera is treating you well.”

Kallus glanced up from the terminal. His eyes flicked to the Inquisitor first before settling on Mei with professional calm. “Lieutenant Quinn,” he nodded curtly. “Everything is under control.” His tone was polite but clipped, a clear signal he wasn’t looking for conversation.

Mei, of course, ignored it. “Glad to hear it. If you ever need anything, just say so,” she added with a playful wink.

While she waged her one-sided charm offensive, the Inquisitor let his gaze wander. ‘Stars, this girl would try to make friends with a firing squad.’

His eyes landed on the terminal Kallus had been working on. Nothing special. No security grids, no codes. Just maintenance schedules scrolling by. But his cybernetic vision caught the detail.

Kallus had slipped in one extra line of code for tomorrow’s diagnostic cycle on the clamps in Hangar Seven:
DIAGNOSTIC_LOCK(IF STATUS != COMPLETE, RESTART_SEQ)

‘What is he, an idiot?’ the Inquisitor thought, frowning. ‘Restarting a loop with no error logs? That’ll hang the test forever. So either he’s a total moron, or…’

Kallus locked the terminal and turned to leave, but the Inquisitor stepped forward, blocking the exit.

“Problems with maintenance, Agent?” His voice was soft, but carried a dangerous edge.

Kallus froze for a beat. His eyes wore that professional indifference the Inquisitor knew too well from bureaucrats.

“On the contrary, Inquisitor,” Kallus replied smoothly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Just a redundant fail-safe. To make sure diagnostics always finish, even if they have to restart a few times. Preventive measure.”

The Inquisitor studied him. ‘Sure. And I’m the Queen of Naboo.’ He almost snorted aloud. ‘That fucker thinks I can’t tell a planted bug from a fail-safe. I know exactly what that code does... And so does he.’

But instead of calling him out, he let the corner of his mouth twitch.

“I see,” he said quietly. “Very… thorough.”

For a flicker, Kallus stiffened. A crack of unease flashed in his eyes, knowing the bluff hadn’t landed. Then he gave a curt nod and disappeared down the corridor.

The Inquisitor didn’t stop him. For once, he didn’t feel only anger or humiliation. He felt power. The power to do nothing. To let Thrawn’s perfect little system rot from within.

‘I should kill him,’ he thought, a cold, satisfying calm spreading through him. ‘Or report him. That’d be duty. Protect the ship. Protect the Empire.’ He hesitated. ‘But why? What do I get out of it? More humiliation? Losing the other arm?’ His rage mingled with sharp, icy logic.

And suddenly it was clear. This was an opportunity. A tiny crack in Thrawn’s flawless machine. A crack only he saw.

‘I fight for this Empire and get fucking nothing in return. So let this whole perfect system rot from the inside out. At least it’ll be fun to watch.’

He chose silence. For the first time in too long, he didn’t do what was expected. And the feeling… was better than any victory in combat.

Mei stepped up beside him, datapad in hand. “I’ve got everything I need. I’ll reach out to some people and see what we can do.”

Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked at her… at the honest, focused determination in her face.

“Thanks, Mei,” he said quietly. It was the first time he’d called her by name. And the first time his voice carried no trace of sarcasm or anger. It surprised him as much as it did her.

He glanced once more toward the corridor where Kallus had vanished. Once, he’d have cut the man down without hesitation. That had been his job. His duty.

But today? Today he couldn’t care less if the whole fucking ship burned. If it hurt Thrawn even a little, it would be worth it.

Ezra sat on the edge of the bed, fingers drumming against the mattress in a rapid, nervous rhythm. Finally. After endless waiting, the day had come at last. His heart pounded so hard he was certain Kanan could hear it across the cabin.

“I just hope everything goes according to plan,” he muttered. “That it’s not already too late…”

Kanan, still in meditation, turned toward him. “Thrawn needs her alive. For now. That’s our advantage.” His voice carried calm, but Ezra could sense the tension beneath it. “Are you ready?”

Ezra drew in a deep breath and pulled on his helmet. “Yeah. We’re finishing this.”

Kanan placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “Good. Then let’s go.”

The moment they stepped into the corridor, Ezra felt the pressure mounting with every stride. Officers and stormtroopers moved briskly around them, each absorbed in their own duties. He forced himself to keep his steps measured, to hide the nerves gnawing at him from within.

As they passed one of the countless door terminals, Ezra caught sight of a cup left beside it—marked with two crudely drawn stars. Anyone else would have thought someone had just forgotten to take it, but Ezra recognized it instantly. A signal.

He leaned slightly toward Kanan, whispering, “Message’s delivered. Everything’s in motion.”

Kanan gave the faintest nod. His voice stayed calm, but Ezra felt the relief radiating from him. “That’s good news.”

They pressed on until they reached the heavy doors marked with her cell number. Sweat slicked Ezra’s palms inside his gloves, but he didn’t hesitate. He entered the access code, and the door slid open with a sharp chime.

“Finally,” one of the two stormtroopers on guard muttered.

“Looks like it’s gonna be one of those shifts,” the other added with a dry sigh.

Ezra forced a curt nod, keeping his voice flat. “Yeah. Same as always.”

“Good luck, guys. See you at the shift change,” the first said, and both troopers quickly slipped out of the cell.

Ezra took a long breath to steady himself, then moved to stand in position beside Kanan. His gaze shot to Nix—and the tightness in his chest nearly crushed him. She looked… fragile. That was the word that seared into him. Unconscious, her skin deathly pale, dark circles bruising her eyes.

‘Nix… what did they do to you?’ Every instinct screamed at him to tear her free, but he knew he had to wait.

His attention shifted as he realized a conversation was already in progress. Thrawn stood with another man—a figure in a beige-gray uniform bearing an unfamiliar insignia, medical instruments hanging at his belt. When the man turned, Ezra caught a clear look: dark, wavy hair, round glasses, a neatly trimmed beard.

“…sir, I have to repeat, her condition is critical. If she isn’t transferred to the medbay immediately, there soon won’t be anyone left to interrogate,” the man said urgently, his voice carrying both professional concern and personal disgust at the situation.

Thrawn cut him off with cold precision. “She will not leave this room, Doctor Lokin. Administer whatever care is necessary here.”

“Grand Admiral,” Lokin lowered his voice to something near pleading, “with all respect… her vitals are extremely unstable. That machine is what’s keeping her alive. She will soon be completely dependent on it if she doesn’t receive immediate medical care.”

“I’m afraid I must insist,” Thrawn replied, his tone unshaken but carrying iron finality. “Provide her care here.” He paused, his gaze like a blade. “I trust this will not require my further oversight.”

Then, without waiting for further protest, Thrawn turned and strode toward the exit. The doors slid shut behind him.

Ezra’s chest tightened with each heartbeat. Nix was dangling on the edge of death, and every cold command from Thrawn felt like another knot tightening around her throat. Lokin turned back to her, resignation heavy in his features, and began rummaging through his satchel for equipment.

Ezra’s thoughts raced. He wanted to act—grab her, run, fight their way out—but not yet. Just a few more moments. If they slipped now, it wouldn’t only mean losing Nix. It would mean the end for all of them.

The alarm cut through the air, sharp and blaring.

“Security alert: Breach in Sector G-9. All roving patrols are to proceed to the location and establish a perimeter. All stationary guards will hold their positions.”

“That’s our signal,” Kanan whispered instantly. “We move. Now.”

Ezra nodded sharply. Together they swung their blaster rifles toward Doctor Lokin.

“Step away from her!” Ezra barked, voice sharp with urgency.

Startled, Lokin froze. Slowly, he lowered the injector he’d been holding and raised his hands, backing away. “I… what’s going on?”

“Get her down. I’ll cover him,” Kanan ordered, stepping in closer to Lokin with calm authority.

“Got it,” Ezra answered, rushing to the control panel. He yanked off his helmet for a clearer look at the screen and started working the field controls.

“Wait!” Lokin’s alarm broke through his professional composure, raw fear bleeding into his tone. “If you take her out of that field now, she won’t last long!”

Ezra froze, his hand hovering over the control. Desperation flickered in his eyes as he turned to Kanan, almost pleading for guidance.

“We don’t have a choice,” Kanan said firmly. “We’re not leaving her here.”

“You’re rebels,” Lokin suddenly breathed, the realization dawning in his voice. His gaze darted to Nix’s limp form, then back to them. “You came for her… Good. I’m the last person who’d try to stop you.”

For a moment, he dropped his eyes, then added quietly, “This… this isn’t the first time I’ve been forced to watch someone the Empire drags to the brink of death for the sake of answers. But maybe… maybe it’s the first time I can actually do something about it.” He looked up again, his expression steadier now. “If you don’t have a medbay waiting, she won’t survive.”

“But what can we do?” Ezra pressed, his voice raw with urgency. “We’re out of time.”

Lokin hesitated only briefly before drawing a deep breath. “Take me with you. I can try to stabilize her on the way… keep her alive until you get to wherever you’re going. You’ll need a proper infirmary, because without my help, she won’t make it.”

“Ezra, think,” Kanan said quietly but firmly. “This could be a trap. It’s a risk we can’t afford.”

The doctor met Kanan’s stare, and there was no fear in his eyes… only a weary kind of defiance. “I’m not acting as an Imperial right now,” he said softly. “I’m acting as a physician. And my oath is to preserve life, not to stand by while command destroys it for the sake of... information. Not anymore.”

His words hung heavy in the air, carrying the weight of final, quiet rebellion.

Ezra turned to Kanan, eyes burning with pain and desperation. “You heard him. If it gives her even the smallest chance… we have to risk it.”

Kanan held his gaze for several long seconds before exhaling heavily. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. But one wrong move, Doctor, and it’s over.”

Lokin gave a quick, resolute nod. He bent down, retrieved the injector he’d prepared earlier—then hurled it to the ground, shattering it to pieces.

“What was that?” Ezra asked, startled.

“Nothing,” Lokin said shortly, already digging into his satchel for another vial. “Just something for the pain. This will help.”

“Fine,” Ezra said, his throat tight. He carefully disengaged the containment field and caught Nix as her body collapsed forward. Cradling her gently, he brushed a hand through her hair and whispered, voice breaking, “I’m sorry it took so long…”

Lokin loaded the new dose into an injector and pressed it carefully against her neck. Then he looked back to Ezra, eyes questioning. “So what’s the plan?”

“Stay with us,” Ezra said firmly, summoning every ounce of resolve he had. “And don’t fall behind.”

Kanan leveled his rifle at the door and nodded once. “Let’s move. We’ve lost too much time already.”

Ezra gave Nix’s pale face one last look before taking a deep breath and stepping into the unknown. There was no turning back now. He could feel the pulse hammering in his throat, the roar of adrenaline in his ears, as he followed Kanan out of the cell with Nix held tight against him.

Doctor Lokin hurried close behind, his expression caught somewhere between worry and determination. Kanan led the way, every stride steady and sure.

“Someone’s coming,” Kanan warned suddenly, his voice low but urgent. “Be ready.”

Ezra pressed himself against the wall, Nix still secure in his arms, while Lokin tucked in behind him. A moment later, voices echoed from the corner—two stormtroopers grumbling about the alarm.

“Probably just another false alarm,” one of them muttered—just before they rounded the corner and spotted the group. Their surprise lasted only a heartbeat before blasters snapped up. “Stop! What the—”

Kanan didn’t hesitate. His shot dropped the first trooper instantly. Ezra reacted just as fast, his hand thrusting forward as he seized the second soldier in an invisible grip and slammed him against the wall. The trooper crumpled, unconscious.

Doctor Lokin stared wide-eyed, mouth half open. “How…?”

“No time,” Ezra snapped. He pulled Nix close again, bracing her against his chest. “We have to move.”

They pushed on through the corridors, this time moving with more caution. Ezra fought to keep pace, though Nix’s weight slowed him more than he wanted to admit. After a few minutes, Kanan halted again, having sensed movement ahead. This time it wasn’t stormtroopers, but a lone technician accompanied by a droid, setting up a security lock at the end of the hall.

“Stop!” the technician shouted in alarm, but before he could do anything more, Kanan stepped forward, raising his hand. “You didn’t see anyone. Everything’s fine. You should be somewhere else.”

The technician blinked, then repeated dully, “Everything’s fine… I should be somewhere else.” With a dazed glance at his confused service droid, he turned and shuffled away. Ezra felt a surge of relief.

‘I forget sometimes just how good he is at this.’ But even with Kanan’s skill, Ezra knew they weren’t clear yet.

When they finally reached the main entrance to the hangar, Ezra’s chest tightened. The doors were sealed, the access panel flashing red with a security lock.

“What now?” he blurted, his voice tight with panic.

“Follow me,” Doctor Lokin said suddenly, his tone calm and decisive, “I know another way.” Without waiting for debate, he turned toward the wall on their right.

Ezra and Kanan exchanged a quick, uncertain look before hurrying after him. Lokin approached an inconspicuous service panel, slid in an access card, and tapped a short code. The wall hissed open, revealing a narrow, dim passageway.

“Why do you have access to service tunnels?” Ezra asked suspiciously as they slipped inside.

Lokin gave a bitter half-smile. “Let’s just say a surprising number of my patients are mechanics who lose a finger, a hand, or their minds down here.”

The passage swallowed them. It was cramped, lit only by strips of weak emergency lights that cast pale rectangles along the walls. Pipes, cable conduits, and vent shafts hemmed them in from every side. Each step echoed faintly through the metal underfoot.

Lokin led the way quickly, as if he knew the route by heart. Ezra followed, Nix a dead weight in his arms. The combination of her limp body and his own searing adrenaline was draining his strength with every step. Kanan brought up the rear, senses sharpened for any sound or movement.

At one point they had to vault over a pile of collapsed piping; another time they crawled beneath a scorched cable bridge, insulation still melted from recent repairs. Sweat slid down Ezra’s back, but he refused to slow.

“Here,” Lokin whispered after what felt like endless minutes, stopping at a metal hatch that opened back toward the main hangar.

Kanan lifted a hand. “Wait,” he murmured. “There are soldiers out there. A lot of them. It’s chaos. Ezra, be ready. This could turn ugly.”

Ezra nodded silently. In his arms, Nix gave a faint, unconscious groan. He pulled her closer against him.

“Alright,” Lokin exhaled to himself, easing the hatch open. Through the narrow gap, they glimpsed the hangar: glaring lights, shouts echoing off the walls, techs rushing about, officers barking orders, alarms blaring above the roar of engines.

Almost immediately, an Imperial officer appeared in their line of sight. His eyes widened at the sight of them, panic flashing across his face as his hand darted for his comm.

Lokin didn’t hesitate. In one fluid motion, he drew a compact injector pistol from his belt and fired. A dart struck the officer square in the chest. The man staggered, stumbled back a few paces, then collapsed to the deck with a strangled sound.

“What was that?” Ezra hissed nervously, following Lokin out into the hangar while glancing between him and the fallen man.

“Strong sedative,” Lokin answered without pause, tucking the weapon away again. “You’d be surprised how often it comes in handy.”

Ezra nodded tensely, scanning the cavernous hangar. His eyes darted from corner to corner, but did not see any familiar shapes. To their left, mechanics scrambled in frantic clusters. On the far side, a group of stormtroopers bickered angrily around a fighter with jammed clamps. Chaos was everywhere, but thankfully, no one had noticed them yet.

Kanan slipped out of the tunnel behind them and quietly sealed the hatch. They crouched behind a tall stack of cargo containers near the wall, concealed by the shadow of a support column.

Ezra held Nix tighter. Her head rested limply against his shoulder, her breathing shallow and uneven. His eyes raked the hangar desperately for allies, but found only confusion and noise.

“They’re not here,” he whispered, panic flickering in his voice. “They should be here!”

Kanan’s hand pressed firmly on his shoulder. “Calm yourself, Ezra,” he said quietly. “I can feel them. They’re close.”

His calm voice was an anchor in the chaos. Ezra drew a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm—and then he heard it.

The air trembled. The wail of TIE fighters cut across the din of alarms and shouting, but it was drowned out by a deeper, far more familiar sound. Out of nowhere, the Phantom streaked into the hangar. Its engines thundered in the enclosed space, rattling the durasteel walls. Gunfire erupted from the Imperial position. The ship's nose cannons answered without hesitation, their volley simply erasing the position from existence.

Chaos broke out instantly. Soldiers scattered, shouting orders that were lost in the confusion. The Phantom darted toward their position, ramp dropping even before the ship slowed. At the edge stood Rex, one hand braced on the railing, the other waving them forward, his face lined with urgency.

“Move it! We don’t have much time!” he bellowed over the roar of engines.

Ezra surged to his feet, clutching Nix tightly. Lokin was right behind him, Kanan covering their retreat with his blaster raised. The distance to the Phantom wasn’t far, but each step felt like a lifetime—and they weren’t the only ones who noticed.

Two stormtroopers rushed from the left, another raising his rifle from behind a crate. Blasterfire screamed across the hangar, red bolts scorching the deck just meters in front of them, the acrid tang of ozone burning in Ezra’s nose.

Rex didn’t hesitate. He planted himself on the outer edge of the ramp, squeezed the trigger, and dropped one trooper with a clean shot. The Phantom swung sideways, its hull shielding them from the worst of the fire.

Ezra reached the ramp first, stumbling inside with Nix in his arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and for one agonizing second, he thought she’d stopped breathing. Lokin scrambled in behind him.

Kanan was the last aboard. He spun, dropped the final trooper with a single shot, then slammed his hand on the panel to raise the ramp.

“And who the kriff is this?!” Rex barked, blaster already leveled at Lokin, suspicion blazing in his eyes.

Doctor Lokin raised his hands in a calm, placating gesture. “My name is Andronikos Lokin,” he said evenly. “I’m a doctor. If this girl doesn’t get immediate treatment, she’ll die. I’m here to prevent that.”

Kanan ripped off his helmet and stepped between them. “He’s with us,” he said firmly. “Without him, Nix wouldn’t have survived long enough to make it here. He also got us into the hangar.”

Lokin gave a small shrug and stepped back. “If it makes you feel better, you can keep a blaster pointed at my head the whole way. But I’d rather start treating her right away.”

Rex narrowed his eyes, then grudgingly lowered his weapon.

“Where’s the Ghost?” Kanan asked, striding toward the cockpit.

“Covering us from the far side,” Sabine replied without turning. Her eyes were locked on the console, fingers dancing over the controls. “Once we’re clear, we jump to hyperspace.”

Through the Phantom’s viewport, the Ghost loomed ahead, weaving through the scattered TIEs with impossible precision.

Ezra held Nix tighter, closing his eyes. All that was left was to hang on—long enough to reach safety.

The Phantom juked hard, engines screaming as Sabine threaded it between two TIE fighters. Ghost’s cannons roared, vaporizing them both in twin fireballs. Ezra barely noticed; his full focus was on the fragile girl in his arms.

“Spectre-5 to Ghost,” Sabine reported, her hands steady on the controls. “We’re clear to jump... and we’ve picked up a passenger. A doctor.”

Static crackled, then Hera’s calm, steady voice answered: “Copy, Spectre-5. As soon as you dock, we’re jumping to hyperspace.”

Ezra bent closer to Nix, whispering desperately against her ear. “I’m here, Nix… Please, stay with me…” Every word carried a plea, as though silence itself would steal her away.

Lokin knelt beside them, scanning her vitals with a portable monitor. “Is she breathing?” he asked quickly, voice taut with focus.

“Yeah… but barely,” Ezra whispered back, his heart pounding with helpless fear.

“Good. That’s good,” Lokin muttered, adjusting his instruments. His gaze flicked toward the Ghost drawing closer. “We’re docking with that freighter?”

Ezra nodded. “Yeah.”

“Then I’ll need a quiet space,” Lokin said. “Preferably somewhere dim, so her body isn’t under more strain than necessary.”

Still locked on the controls, Sabine replied immediately: “Cargo bay. I’ll set something up.”

The Phantom jolted as its clamps locked into the Ghost’s docking ring, then the whole ship lurched as Hera punched them into hyperspace.

Sabine rose from the pilot’s chair, glancing back at Nix. Her eyes widened briefly at the sight before she spoke softly: “I’ll prepare the space. Doctor, come with me.”

Ezra remained kneeling on the deck, numb with exhaustion, until Kanan’s hand rested reassuringly on his shoulder.

“Here, let me take her,” Rex said quietly, stepping forward. He gently lifted Nix from Ezra’s arms. “You must be exhausted.”

Ezra didn’t argue. He staggered to his feet and followed Rex down into the Ghost’s lower hold.

In the cargo bay, Sabine and Lokin were already clearing space, laying out blankets for a makeshift bed. Zeb stood nearby, his usual wry smirk gone, replaced with solemn concern.

Rex laid Nix down with careful precision, as though she were made of glass. Kanan entered behind them, his face grim.

Ezra stepped closer, eyes roaming over her pale, almost gray skin and the dried blood at her lips. For a moment, the entire crew simply stood in silence, united by their unspoken fear.

Zeb’s heavy hand came down on Ezra’s shoulder. “You got her out, kid,” he rumbled softly. “That’s what matters.”

Kanan nodded. “She’s safe now. We’ll take care of her.”

Ezra closed his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath to keep his emotions at bay. Their words were a comfort, but he knew the truth—they could still lose her.

Lokin’s voice broke the silence, steady and determined. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to keep her alive until we reach a real medbay.”

Ezra drifted back a step and sank onto a nearby crate, head falling into his hands. Around him, Kanan, Sabine, and Zeb exchanged worried glances.

“How long to the base?” Lokin asked, already prepping his tools with quick, efficient movements.

“Eighteen standard hours,” Sabine answered after a beat.

Lokin didn’t look up, his voice firm with finality. “Then the race against time begins now.”

Chapter Text

Ezra sat on the edge of a cargo crate, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as if he might miss a single breath if he looked away. His eyes were fixed on Nix’s pale face, watching the faint, uneven rise and fall of her chest.

It wasn’t until Chopper clattered up beside him, beeping loudly and stirring the air around them, that Ezra snapped out of his thoughts. The droid stopped for a moment, almost as if he were scrutinizing him.

Ezra shook his head weakly. “Not now, Chop.”

The droid responded with a string of indignant chirps, the last one sounding suspiciously like grumbling. Then he extended one of his little arms to poke Ezra in the leg before turning with a final growl and rolling off toward the engine room.

Doctor Lokin hovered over Nix, his eyes fixed on the readings of his handheld scanner. Every so often, he frowned, as if uncertain about what he was seeing. After a moment, he pushed his glasses up his nose almost absentmindedly.

“Hypovolemic shock, severe oxygen desaturation, arrhythmic heart rate…” he muttered under his breath as he studied the data. “And the head trauma… that’s what I need to scan first. That’s the most acute issue…”

Ezra, listening with growing dread, furrowed his brow. He didn’t understand most of the words, but the tone alone was terrifying. “Doctor?” he cut in, his voice tight with anxiety. “Just… tell me what that means. In Basic. How bad is it?”

Lokin lifted his gaze for a moment. The sharp professionalism in his expression softened, if only slightly. “It means she’s lost a dangerous amount of fluid and her body is on the verge of collapse,” he said directly. “Her oxygen levels are critically low, and her heart rhythm is unstable. I need to start an infusion immediately to stabilize her circulation and prevent the worst outcome.”

Ezra let out a shaky breath. “She’s going to make it… right?”

For an instant, Lokin looked almost taken aback by the raw honesty of the question. His voice stayed measured and calm. “I’ll do everything I can. The rest is up to her.”

Sabine stepped into the room, setting a small medkit down on the crate with a soft thud. “This is all Ghost’s got,” she said with a trace of disdain. “Honestly, it’s more like a glorified bandage box.”

Lokin took it from her, opened it quickly, and scanned the contents. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face. “No neural stabilizer… no broad-spectrum antibiotics,” he murmured, then looked back at her. “Thank you. I’ll make do with this, but… it’s far from ideal. I’ll have to improvise.”

Kanan entered next, his steps slow and careful. “Rex, Zeb, could you check on Chopper? He reported some trouble with the hyperdrive. It might be better to take a look right away.”

“Yeah,” Rex agreed without hesitation. Before he turned to go, his eyes lingered on Nix for just a moment. The usual confidence on his face vanished, replaced by something else—a grim recognition Ezra had only rarely seen.

‘He’s seen more than enough. He knows when it’s bad.’

Rex let out a faint, almost inaudible sigh before heading out with Zeb.

Kanan closed his eyes briefly, going still and focused. Ezra couldn’t sense what his master felt in the Force, but when Kanan opened his eyes again, the tension in his shoulders had eased.

“The hardest part is behind us now, Ezra,” he said gently, though his words seemed meant as much for Lokin as for him: a quiet acknowledgement.

Ezra swallowed hard and nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from Nix’s motionless body. “But what am I supposed to do now?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I can’t do any of the things she needs. I’m useless.”

Kanan leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. “Maybe not. But you don’t have to. I told you… Her master trained her to survive. And what I saw… it wasn’t just endurance, Ezra.” He paused, his blind eyes seeming to gaze back into some distant, shadowed memory.

“Her training… he taught her to accept the pain, to wield it. Even now, there’s… a darkness around her. An ancient, powerful aura that shields her like armor.” Kanan drew a slow, heavy breath, as if the words themselves cost him effort. “Whatever it is, it’s helping her hold on.”

Ezra struggled to process that. ‘Darkness… as a shield?’ Everything he had ever learned about the dark side was pain, ruin, and loss. How could it possibly protect her? And what if, once it saved her, it refused to let her go? He stared down at her still, quiet face, hope and fear twisting together in his chest.

The heavy silence in the room was broken at last by Sabine. She cleared her throat, her eyes flicking nervously from Lokin back to the others. She folded her arms across her chest—her usual defensive stance—and when she spoke, there was not only uncertainty in her voice but also a trace of fear.

“Are you sure we can trust him?” she asked.

Lokin, still adjusting the injector in his hands, didn’t even glance up. His reply was clipped, almost dismissive. “I already told the soldier upstairs. I deserted to help her.”

Ezra looked at him, his eyes full of exhaustion and gratitude. “I trust him,” he said, surprising even himself with the firmness in his voice. “Look, we haven’t even… My name’s Ezra.” He jabbed a thumb toward the others. “That’s Kanan, and Sabine.”

For the first time Lokin looked up from his work and gave a brief nod. “Andronikos Lokin.”

Ezra dropped his gaze back to Nix. His fists clenched tight, as if physical pain could somehow drown out the crushing helplessness weighing down on him.

Without a word, Sabine stepped closer and draped a blanket across his shoulders. “You look awful,” she whispered at last. Ezra gave her a small, weary smile—sad, but grateful—and she answered with a quiet nod.

“Doctor?” Ezra asked again after a moment, his voice low and unsteady. “So… what now?”

Lokin shot him a quick, reassuring glance. “Now I stabilize her as best I can. Once we reach your base, she’ll need full medical support. Until then… we just have to hold on.”

Ezra took a deep breath and nodded slowly, even though he knew there were no guarantees.

The room fell quiet again, broken only by the soft hum of instruments and the occasional muttered note from Lokin as he logged readings into his scanner.

“All right, let’s summarize,” Lokin said a little louder after a while. “Aside from severe dehydration, your friend has significant neurological damage caused by the shocks.”

“Neurological damage?” Sabine repeated, her arms tightening across her chest. “What does that even mean?”

Lokin gave her a quick glance. “It means those shocks damaged her nervous system. It could lead to uncontrolled spasms, seizures. It hasn’t happened yet, but the risk is very real.”

Ezra’s face fell, his voice pleading. “But… there’s gotta be something you can do, right?”

Lokin finished preparing the injector and pressed the dose carefully into Nix’s arm. Only then did he straighten, looking back and forth between Ezra and Sabine. His expression was grim, his tone steady but grave.

“Listen,” he said. “I’ve given her a small dose of painkillers to ease the worst of it, but I can’t risk more without suppressing her breathing. The problem is she’s been hit on multiple fronts. She likely has a mild concussion, and I have to monitor swelling. Her nervous system’s been fried by the shocks, so seizures remain a constant threat. On top of that, the trauma from both the shocks and the head injury has thrown her body into shock. Her breathing is shallow, barely keeping her alive. Our top priority is to keep her circulation stable and hope for the best.”

The silence that followed weighed heavily. Ezra felt his throat tighten. “Just tell me what to do,” he finally whispered, his voice raw with helplessness. “Anything. I’ll do anything.”

Lokin’s eyes softened for a fleeting moment. “You can help me watch her breathing and her heart rate. I’ll have her on a monitor shortly.”

Ezra nodded gratefully, relieved to have even the smallest role. Lokin prepared another dose and administered it with practiced care, while Sabine shifted uneasily from foot to foot, silently watching them both.

Once the injection was done, Lokin reached for a compact monitor and strapped it to Nix’s wrist. Ezra’s eyes followed every movement as faint waves of her heartbeat began scrolling across the small display.

Lokin gave a small, satisfied nod. “Her rhythm’s starting to level out. I’ll add a light bacta dose… it should ease the pain and encourage healing.” He looked squarely at Ezra. “Keep an eye on these readings. If anything shifts, tell me immediately.”

“And what about the long-term effects?” Sabine asked softly.

Lokin paused, clearly weighing his words. “The sensory overload alone could leave deep trauma. But for now, what she needs most is rest… and as little external stress as possible.”

“We can handle that,” Sabine said firmly. “She’ll have peace here.”

Lokin inclined his head, then draped a thermal blanket over Nix to keep her temperature from dropping further.

“I’m going to rest for a while. Ezra, you should too,” Kanan said, his tone calm but carrying quiet authority.

Ezra opened his mouth to argue, but Kanan raised a hand to silence him. He didn’t turn fully toward Nix, just tilted his head slightly in her direction. His face tightened in concentration, as though listening to something only he could hear.

“She’s weak,” Kanan said at last, his voice low but steady. “But her spirit’s still fighting. She isn’t alone.” The last words carried unusual weight, as if even he was surprised by what he’d just felt.

With those words, he turned and walked out of the room. Ezra stayed where he was, Kanan’s voice still echoing in his head, bolstering him with the strength he desperately needed. Only then did Sabine come up to him.

“Listen… Kanan’s right,” she said softly but without compromise. “You’re on the edge of collapse, and you’re doing her no good like this. Get out of here for half an hour. I’ll watch over her.”

Ezra shook his head, though his expression had calmed a bit. “No. I… I can’t leave her. I’m staying.”

Sabine studied him for a beat, then let out a resigned sigh and she gave him a faint, weary smile. “Figured you’d say that. You’re stubborn as a mule, you know that?” She glanced him over. “Fine. Stay. But if you pass out, I swear Kanan will kill you and I’ll help him.”

Then she turned to Lokin. “If you need anything else, tell us.”

Doctor Lokin gave a brief nod, eyes still on the monitor. “Thank you.”

Ezra closed his eyes for a moment and drew a slow breath. Each minute felt endless, each second a reminder of how much she mattered to him.

The silence in the room had grown nearly unbearable. Ezra noticed every breath, every tiny movement the doctor made, while his thoughts thinned into a heavy fog of doubt and fear.

At last, he couldn’t hold it in. He broke the oppressive quiet. “Doctor?” he began, tentative and worn. “Why did you help us, anyway?”

Lokin paused mid-motion, then let out a soft sigh and set the datapad aside. He sat opposite Ezra, removed his glasses, and rubbed his tired eyes. His face looked resigned and thoughtful.

“I helped because, for once, I wanted to actually help someone,” he said quietly but firmly. “I didn’t become a doctor to serve the Empire. I wanted to help people, to save lives. But… bit by bit I found that the deeper I got into the system, the less I could actually help.”

Ezra listened, noticing how Lokin’s fingers tapped the edge of his scanner without thinking.

“It destroyed me,” Lokin went on, pausing to stare at the blinking monitor lights. “I moved between detention centers and Star Destroyers, and my job became… keeping prisoners alive so they could be tortured again… Again and again.” His voice dropped, bitter. “I didn’t know how to go on.”

For a moment, Ezra realized he’d never thought about the fact that there might be people inside the Imperial machine who were lost and desperate too. He glanced down and saw Lokin’s uniform still streaked with blood from his attempts to save Nix—small proof that the man had really risked everything to help them.

Ezra hesitated, then asked, “So why didn’t you just leave before?”

Lokin gave him a faint, somewhat rueful smile. “It’s not that simple. But I found my own way to resist, even if…,” he faltered, like he wasn’t sure he should keep going, “…I’m not proud of it. When I saw prisoners who had no chance left… I eased their suffering.”

Ezra’s stomach clenched. He pictured the broken ampule the doctor had smashed—the one Lokin had meant to spare Nix more pain. “So…” he started, voice barely more than a rasp, “that vial…?”

Lokin looked down, grief carved into his face. “Yes. I thought it would be mercy. I thought death might be kindness.”

‘Mercy… He wanted to kill her.’ The thought froze Ezra. He felt his world tilt… how close they’d come to losing her. Not by the Empire’s hand, but by a twisted form of compassion.

“But now,” Lokin continued after a beat, his voice settling into resolve, “Thanks to you, I have a chance to really help.”

Ezra wanted to say more, but the words stuck in his throat. He stared at Lokin, a storm of conflicting emotions churning inside him. Part of him was horrified, recoiling from the man who was ready to kill her. But another part saw the profound exhaustion and despair in the doctor's eyes. Lokin wasn’t just some Imperial... he was also a prisoner, trapped in the same system as everyone else. The realization didn't erase the horror, but it settled beside it.

When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy with the weight of it all. “Thank you,” he managed. “For everything, doctor.”

The doctor gave a tired smile and handed him a small jar of gel. “Don’t thank me yet, Ezra,” he said as he pressed it into Ezra’s hand. “Thank me when we get her to your base. For now… be useful. Carefully apply that gel around her wounds. I need to look at that head injury. That’s my main concern.”

Ezra nodded. He slipped the blanket from his shoulders—the one Sabine had given him—and draped it over the corner of the cargo crate. Then he knelt beside Nix and carefully took her hand in his. For a moment, he froze. Her skin was ice-cold. Up close, the burns left by the magnetic shackles looked even worse: the flesh charred to a deep violet, cracked in places down to raw tissue, the edges swollen and angry.

He hesitated, fingers trembling as he opened the small jar of bacta gel. Drawing in a steadying breath to fight the wave of nausea, he dipped his fingertips into the cool gel and began spreading it in gentle strokes across the skin surrounding the wounds. Every touch was careful, deliberate, as if the slightest pressure might cause her more pain. The sense of helplessness pressed on him like a weight.

Meanwhile, Doctor Lokin brushed a strand of hair away from Nix’s temple, exposing the dark, swollen bruise underneath. Ezra’s stomach lurched when he saw it. Even at a glance, it looked bad. Lokin brought his scanner to bear, and his face immediately hardened.

“Kriff,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s worse than I thought. Not just a concussion… the scan shows micro-hemorrhaging and increasing swelling.” With swift, precise movements, he dug into his kit and pulled out a different vial. “I need to administer mannitol right away to reduce intracranial pressure. Otherwise…” He didn’t finish, but Ezra could imagine the rest all too vividly.

Ezra had just finished applying the bacta when, without warning, a stabbing, icy pain knifed into his temples—like a thousand needles driven into his skull. He gasped, clutching his head instinctively.

A second later, the monitor beside Nix blared a sharp, piercing tone. Her body arched violently, back lifting off the bed, a strangled sound tearing from her throat.

Ezra stared at her in shock, still reeling from the echo of pain in his own head. “What… what’s happening?!” he choked out.

“Seizure!” Lokin barked, his composure gone. “Kriff. Help me roll her onto her side, now! We need to clear her airway!”

Ezra scrambled to obey, clumsy in his panic, while Lokin dug frantically through his kit with one hand. “Where is it… come on… Hand me that medpack!” he snapped over his shoulder, his other hand bracing Nix’s trembling body. “This wasn’t supposed to happen…”

Ezra shoved the entire kit into his reach without hesitation. Lokin snatched out an ampule, broke the seal, and administered it in seconds.

“This is what I was afraid of,” he muttered, eyes locked on the monitor. “But this should dampen it, at least.”

On the screen, the jagged line of her heart rhythm began to settle. Her breathing, shallow but steady, found a fragile rhythm again. Lokin exhaled sharply. “The seizure’s easing. Not over yet, but it’s subsiding.”

At that exact moment, the ship jolted hard, throwing Ezra off balance. He staggered and caught himself against the nearest bulkhead. “What now?” he demanded, fear raw in his voice.

Before anyone could answer, Sabine burst into the room. “Ezra! We need you up top!” she shouted, urgency lacing every word. “We’ve taken more damage than we thought. The hyperdrive’s overheating. We had to shut it down and figure out why.”

“Sabine, I can’t—” Ezra began, voice breaking, his eyes locked on Nix.

But Lokin cut him off, never looking up from his datapad. “If we don’t have a hyperdrive, we’ll never reach a proper medbay in time. And everything we’ve done so far will be for nothing.”

Ezra shut his eyes tight, leaning against the wall as if to keep from collapsing. The dull ache still pulsed behind his eyes, his hands trembling uncontrollably. He clenched them into fists, forcing his breath to steady. When he opened his eyes again, Sabine was watching him, her urgency softened by understanding.

“Fine,” he whispered. “Let’s go.”

Sabine gave a quick nod, and together they sprinted out of the cargo bay.

“How bad is it?” Ezra asked, his voice cracking. “Can we fix it? How long is it gonna take?”

“Still figuring that out,” Sabine shot back.

They reached the hyperdrive chamber where Zeb, Rex, and Chopper were already working furiously. Chopper screeched in frustration as his diagnostic cycle finished with an angry squawk.

Sabine leaned in over the droid’s holodisplay, scanning the data. “Looks like damage to the power coupler. We’ll have to replace it,” she said grimly. “Otherwise, we’re dead in the water.”

Ezra’s chest tightened. “Just tell me what you need,” he said quickly. “I can help.”

“Help Zeb get that cover off,” Sabine ordered, pointing to the hyperdrive panel.

Ezra grabbed the nearest hydrospanner, his knuckles white around the handle, and threw himself at the task. Every ounce of fear and desperation funneled into one focus: getting that stubborn panel loose.

Beside him, Zeb wrestled with the cover, muttering curses under his breath as the bolts refused to budge. Ezra’s own tool slipped against a jammed screw, sparking against the metal. Each second lost felt like another nail tightening around his chest.

“Karabast!” Zeb snarled, yanking at the panel. “I’ve had easier times breaking into Sabine’s paint locker!”

Ezra didn’t even crack a smile. His heart hammered faster with every wasted moment. “Zeb…” he whispered under his breath, almost like a prayer. “She’s going to make it, right?”

Zeb froze mid-motion, the hydrospanner in his hand lowering to his side. For a second, all the frustration from the repair vanished from his face, replaced by raw surprise. He turned to Ezra, his gruff expression softening. Only then, with a heavy sigh, did he turn back to the panel.

“From what I’ve seen, kid,” he said, his voice a little softer than before, “she can take a beating and still get back up..."

Ezra froze for a heartbeat, then admitted quietly, “It’s harder than I thought. When I left… she was having a seizure.”

Rex, who had been working with Chopper at the control panel, glanced back toward them. “That doctor seemed pretty capable. I’ve seen a fair share of medics in action, and he didn’t strike me as the usual type.”

Ezra nodded, grateful for Rex’s support, though a small voice of doubt still lingered in the back of his mind.

“I’ve got the coupler,” Sabine announced as she returned, handing the replacement part over to Rex.

Zeb, who had just loosened the last stubborn bolt, paused for a moment. “Hey… you really sure we can trust this doc?”

Ezra frowned, his patience finally snapping. “Zeb, I know how it looks, okay? But he risked everything. For us. He left the Empire just to save her.”

Zeb yanked the panel free with a grunt and hesitated, then finally gave a short nod. “Fine. If you say he’s good, kid… then I’m with you.”

Chopper beeped impatiently while Ezra and Zeb wrestled the damaged coupler out of place. Rex finished calibrating the replacement and passed it to the droid. “All right, Chopper. Get it in there.”

The next few minutes were a blur of focused, frantic work. Ezra helped clear away the scorched conduits, the hot metal searing even through his gloves. At one point, a crucial support strut wouldn't align, its socket warped by the heat.

"Ezra, a little help!" Zeb grunted, straining against it. Ezra closed his eyes, reached out with the Force, and nudged the twisted metal just enough for it to snap into place. He was breathing heavily, sweat stinging his eyes, but they were making progress.

Sabine stepped closer to Ezra, her voice dropping. “Hey… maybe you should go back to Nix. You look completely wrecked. We can handle it from here.”

Ezra lifted his eyes to her, the exhaustion plain on his face, and gave a quiet nod. They left the engine room together in silence. The weight of unspoken words pressed down on Ezra until he finally managed, “Sabine… I thought this would be easier. That I’d know what to do.”

“Ezra, you know I’m not the best at advice, but…” She hesitated, looking off to the side as if searching for the right words. “I see the way you look at her. The way you are around her. This isn’t just about worrying for a friend. There’s… more to it.” Her last words were barely above a whisper.

“Maybe…” Ezra admitted, rubbing his temple where that sharp pain had struck earlier. “But right now… it’s like I can feel what she’s going through. It’s strange. Like we’re connected somehow. Maybe through the Force.”

Sabine gave him a small, knowing smile. “Then maybe stop being afraid of your feelings and just admit it. If Nix were awake right now, I’m pretty sure she’d tell you to stop being such a coward.”

Despite the heaviness in his chest, Ezra let out a weak laugh. “Yeah… probably.”

By then, they had returned to the cargo bay. Sabine wiped her hands on a rag and tucked it into her belt, a smear of grease marking her cheek. Lokin was bent over the monitors, scanning fresh readouts. Ezra hurried to Nix’s side, his voice anxious. “How is she?”

Lokin glanced up briefly. His face was calm, professional, but his eyes carried the weight that kept Ezra’s chest tight. “Stable… for now,” he answered. “But she still needs proper treatment I can’t provide here. Until then, all I can do is keep her alive.”

Sabine activated her comm. “Zeb, how’s it looking down there?”

Zeb’s voice came back, gruff and a little irritated, though laced with determination. “Turns out it’s not just the coupler… Chopper’s running another full diagnostic.”

“Copy that,” Sabine replied before turning back to Ezra. “Hang in there, okay? We’ll get through this. Try to get some rest if you can—I’ll go give them a hand.”

Ezra sank into the seat beside Nix, pulled the blanket back over his shoulders, and gently took her hand in his again. Her fingers were still cold, but that touch, together with the weight of the blanket, gave him a fragile sense of calm. He closed his eyes, clinging to the hope that the hyperdrive would come back online soon.

Silence. That was the first thing Nix became aware of. A deep, all-encompassing silence and a chill that crawled across her skin. She lay on her back, submerged in an endless, ink-black expanse. The space around her had no beginning or end, only faint echoes of distant voices drifting through the darkness like an unintelligible whisper.

She had no idea how long she had been there, as time simply didn’t exist. Until suddenly, a voice broke through that prison of silence, clear and commanding.

“Are you really going to give up so easily?” The voice carried a gentle but undeniable authority.

Nix slowly turned her head and saw him. Valkorion stood a short distance away, robed in immaculate white, his expression calm—perhaps far too calm.

“What else am I supposed to do?” she answered softly, her voice heavy with exhaustion and resignation. “I did what I could... and now... I think I’m done.”

Valkorion stepped closer, his stride not disturbing the dark waters beneath their feet. “That young Jedi,” he said with an almost amused calm, “will be shattered.”

The mention of Ezra made her chest tighten. She closed her eyes, as if to shut out the ache, and gave a faint shake of her head. “He’s not coming,” she whispered bitterly. “It’s too dangerous. Besides… I don’t belong here anyway. Maybe this is just how it ends.”

Valkorion tilted his head, studying her. “Are you truly certain of that?”

Nix opened her eyes and pushed herself upright. The surface beneath her remained utterly still. “What do you want from me?” she snapped, her voice laced with weary accusation. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of dying out there.”

He arched a brow, a faint, almost amused smile tugging at his lips. “Listen more closely.”

With a slow wave of his hand, something shifted. The fog clouding her mind thinned. The echoes around her sharpened into clearer, stronger voices. And then she heard it—Ezra’s voice. Desperate, pained. She couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was unmistakable. He was there. He really was there.

Nix’s head snapped up, her voice a raw whisper of disbelief and anger. “No… That’s not real.” She shook her head, trying to clear it. “He wouldn’t be that stupid. No one would.”

She staggered to her feet, confusion burning through the numbness for the first time in what felt like forever. “Alright, what’s the game now?” she snapped at Valkorion. “Why are you trying so kriffing hard to keep me alive?”

But Valkorion remained composed, his expression almost paternal. “Look within yourself and ask… does this truly feel like a trick?”

Panic clawed at her chest, cold and sharp. The plan. Her final, desperate gambit back in that cell. She had pushed that Inquisitor, dared him to end it, because she never believed… she never truly believed Ezra would come back for her.

But he was here. And her ‘sacrifice’ had been for nothing. She had thrown her life away, and now she was trapped. A ghost in her own mind, fading away while he was right here.

“What have I done?” she breathed in despair.

He studied her a moment before speaking again. “Perhaps I can offer you… help.”

Nix’s eyes narrowed, a humorless smirk touching her lips. “Help?” she repeated, the word dripping with distrust. “Right. And what’s the price?”

Valkorion stepped closer. His voice was calm, balanced, yet commanding. “I cannot heal your body,” he said evenly. “But I can restore to you the one thing that matters most: Control. I can anchor your consciousness back to your vessel. You will not be a passive victim waiting for death… you will fight again. And that Jedi of yours…” A faint smile ghosted across his lips. “…at least he will see you haven’t given up.”

“He isn’t—” Nix began, but her voice cracked, and the words died on her tongue. She couldn’t be sure if he was lying, and perhaps it didn’t matter. “How?”

Valkorion’s smile deepened, almost triumphant. “So… will you take my help, or not?”

Nix stared at him, thoughts spinning. She heard Sabine’s voice this time and tried to grasp what that meant. For him to be here, she had to be off the Chimaera. She had to be with them. The realization hit her like a physical blow—the sheer, insane risk they must have taken. All for her.

Doubts still gnawed at her. Was this just another of Valkorion’s games? A lie crafted to give her a false hope she never asked for? But then Ezra’s voice echoed again, broken with a pain that felt too real to be an illusion. That was enough.

“Do it,” she whispered firmly, stepping toward him.

Valkorion asked once more, “Are you certain?”

But Nix’s resolve was set. She moved closer, her gaze steady and unwavering. Looking him straight in the eye, she repeated, stronger this time: “Do it!”

Valkorion smiled once more, lifted his arms, and with a single sweeping gesture spread them wide. A brilliant flash of light burst from his fingertips, blinding her.

The world spun… and with it came pain. Real, searing pain that pulled her back toward consciousness.

Ezra sat quietly beside Nix, gently holding her hand. His voice was barely audible, more a whisper meant only for her.

He told her about their training together, how she had managed to annoy and amuse him at the same time, and how he had slowly come to realize that he saw her differently than he saw anyone else. His voice broke more than once, forcing him to pause and draw breath. It felt like a farewell he was trying desperately to deny.

Doctor Lokin sat off to the side. At one point, he removed his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let out a long, weary sigh. But he put them back on almost immediately, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he fixed them on the datapad, as though somewhere in those endless lines of data there might be an answer—something that could still help Nix.

Ezra’s thoughts were broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. He recognized them instantly. He lifted his head just as Hera stepped into the cargo bay. The moment her gaze fell on him, the firm authority of her stance softened, replaced by an expression of profound relief and worry.

“Ezra,” she breathed, moving straight to him. Ezra rose as Hera pulled him into a firm, maternal embrace. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Ezra squeezed her back gently, then pulled away so she could see his face. “I am… but Nix,” he said softly, his voice trembling again. “The doctor’s doing everything he can, but… she’s in bad shape.”

Hera cast a quick glance at Nix’s still form, then fixed her eyes on the doctor. Her tone was direct, without unnecessary words. “You must be Lokin. Ezra said you helped us.”

Lokin looked up from his instruments and gave a short nod. “Andronikos Lokin. And you must be Captain Syndulla. I’m doing everything I can.”

Hera studied him for a long moment, her eyes sharp, weighing him like she would a component on her ship—either it worked, or it didn’t. At last, she gave a small nod. “Good. Show me what you can do, Doctor, and I won’t forget it.”

Ezra tensed slightly, then turned back to Hera. “How’s the hyperdrive?”

A small smile touched her lips, meant to reassure him. “Don’t worry. We’ll be moving again soon.”

At that moment Lokin straightened, his eyes flicking uncertainly between them as he interrupted. “Forgive me, but I have to ask. There’s an anomaly in all her scans. At first I thought it was an error, but… now I’m not so sure.” He hesitated, as if unsure whether to continue.

Ezra’s chest tightened, and he glanced at Hera before asking, “What did you find, Doctor?”

Lokin’s expression darkened with concern. “She wasn’t by chance… exposed to stasis technology for an extended period of time?”

Ezra froze, then slowly nodded, exchanging a wary look with Hera, who gave a confirming nod of her own. “Yeah… she was,” he admitted quietly, as if reluctant to share the truth aloud.

The doctor’s face grew even more serious. “For how long?”

“We don’t know for sure,” Ezra answered after a moment’s hesitation. “But… a very long time, from what we’ve been told.”

“Why are you asking?” Hera interjected, her voice steady and firm.

Lokin exhaled heavily. “If the scans are accurate, it looks like she has developed microscopic crystalline deposits in her lungs. Likely the result of faulty carbonite suspension or imperfect thawing.”

“Crystals in her lungs?” Hera’s eyes hardened. “How dangerous is that?”

“I can’t say yet,” Lokin admitted. “It could be a ticking time bomb… or it could mean nothing at all. But if she stabilizes, she must undergo a full examination as soon as possible. This could kill her slowly, silently… without anyone noticing until it’s too late.”

The words hit Ezra like a physical blow. A ticking time bomb. His mind raced through every memory of her shortness of breath, every time she seemed more exhausted than she should have been. She had never admitted it. She had always tried to hide her weakness.

The heavy silence was shattered by a sudden lurch as the Ghost re-entered hyperspace. Hera’s comm crackled with Sabine’s voice, loud enough for Ezra to hear: “Repairs complete. We’re back on course.”

“Thanks, Sabine,” Hera replied, then turned back to Ezra before leaving. “Don’t give up on her yet, Ezra.”

Ezra only managed a mute nod… then nearly jumped when he felt it. The faintest, almost imperceptible movement of Nix’s fingers against his hand. His heart pounded as her weak, pain-roughened voice slipped out: “Ezra…?”

He leaned closer instantly, eyes wide with hope and relief. “I’m here, Nix,” he whispered urgently.

Her eyelids fluttered open. Her gaze was blurred, unfocused, but it seemed to recognize him. She gave his hand the faintest squeeze… so light it was almost nothing. “Don’t… go… away,” she breathed, before her eyes slipped shut again and her body relaxed back into deep unconsciousness.

Doctor Lokin, who had been watching, allowed himself a quiet, almost disbelieving smile. For the first time, it wasn’t weary or forced. His eyes stayed on the stabilizing readouts on the monitor as he murmured, relief threading through his voice: “This is a good sign. If she can perceive her surroundings, even for a moment… it means her mind is still fighting.”

A wave of profound relief surged through Ezra. He pulled the blanket Sabine had given him tighter around his shoulders, the rough warmth grounding him in the moment. For the first time since it all began, a small spark of hope flared within him. The steady hum of the now-repaired hyperdrive filled the silence, almost soothing—reminding him that hope was still alive.

Chapter Text

‘Finally, some fucking peace.’

The Twelfth Brother walked slowly down the corridors of the Chimaera. Normally in situations like this, he’d feel pissed off, maybe even uneasy, but right now he was unnaturally calm. At his side, Mei shifted nervously, her eyes darting between the floor and the hall ahead.

‘The girl’s about to shit herself,’ he thought with a near-smirk. He could practically feel the anxiety pouring off her, but he refused to let it touch him. If anything, he savored this rare moment of total indifference.

“Do you think this is going to be a problem?” Mei asked quietly as they passed a row of stormtroopers standing at attention outside Thrawn’s office.

The Inquisitor didn’t even bother turning his head. “There’s always some kind of fucking problem, Mei. The only question is whether it kills you now, or later.”

She smiled faintly, but the expression disappeared the moment the office doors slid open. Inside stood Grand Admiral Thrawn, his face unreadable, his gaze fixed on the holoprojection in front of him. At his right was a tall officer in the Chimaera’s internal security uniform, his expression nearly as cold and impassive as Thrawn’s. On the opposite side stood Agent Kallus, datapad in hand, eyes lowered to its display.

“Inquisitor. Lieutenant Quinn,” Thrawn said without looking up from the hologram. “I trust you understand why you’re here.”

“Yes, Grand Admiral,” Mei answered instantly, snapping to attention. The Inquisitor only gave a slight nod, leaning casually against the nearest wall instead of standing at attention, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes stayed fixed on the floating images.

The holos displayed security recordings: the chaos of the prisoner’s escape and Doctor Lokin’s disappearance. The Inquisitor watched every detail without interest.

‘She’s gonna break out in hives just from watching herself fuck up,’ he thought, noticing how Mei’s eyes kept darting around the room.

“Interesting,” Thrawn finally said, his voice calm. “Not especially sophisticated. But fast. Effective.”

The Inquisitor’s mouth twitched into a faint smirk. ‘Effective,’ he scoffed inwardly. ‘Yeah, real fucking effective. Especially the part where your precious little pet slipped out right under your nose, you blue bastard.’

Thrawn turned toward him, hands clasped neatly behind his back. Those red eyes locked straight onto his. “Inquisitor, you were the last one to speak with the prisoner. What happened?”

He shrugged lazily. “What do you think? She talked shit, so I gave her what she had coming. But she was still breathing, if that’s what you’re worried about—”

“I’ll read that in your report,” Thrawn cut him off with a flick of his hand. “What I want to know is which indicators of an escape you failed to notice.”

The Inquisitor tilted his head theatrically, like he’d just been asked the dumbest question in the galaxy. He caught Mei’s desperate glance and ignored it.

“She was barely alive,” he said flatly. “Hardly breathing. If you really think she was planning some kind of fucking breakout in that state, you must’ve hit your head harder than she did.”

Mei quickly nodded. “Besides, Grand Admiral, when we were in the cell, other guards were on watch. Those Rebels in disguise must’ve come in after.”

“A job of this scale had to be coordinated internally,” the security officer remarked for the first time. “Possibly… by Doctor Lokin? Records show he’s had freer movement on the ship recently than originally authorized.”

The Inquisitor frowned but said nothing. Mei flinched slightly. Thrawn narrowed his eyes.

The silence stretched until Kallus spoke up: “It’s possible, Grand Admiral. If he had system access, he could’ve altered security protocols… or passed them along. In the past, similar leaks have come from civilian contractors.”

“An interesting theory,” Thrawn said calmly. “But Doctor Lokin was assigned to treat the prisoner based on your direct recommendation, Lieutenant Quinn.”

For a moment, all attention in the room focused on Mei. The Inquisitor saw her tense up, but her response was immediate.

“His service record was impeccable, Grand Admiral,” she replied. “I wanted to ensure the best and most immediate care available for such a valuable asset. His treason is… regrettable.”

The Inquisitor smirked internally. ‘Good answer. Smart girl.’

Thrawn paused for a moment as if considering her answer. Then he turned back to Agent Kallus. “You were active in the hangar bay shortly before the incident, Agent Kallus. Did you notice anything unusual?”

Kallus lifted his gaze from the datapad, his eyes flicking briefly toward the Inquisitor before he answered. “No, Grand Admiral. Nothing. Just normal crew activity.”

Thrawn nodded once, still watching him, then pivoted sharply to face the Inquisitor and Mei. His voice was as cold and precise as a blade. “According to the records, you two also entered the hangar’s operations section shortly after Agent Kallus. Did either of you see anything suspicious?”

The Inquisitor froze, the memory of the scene in the hangar bay replaying in his mind with perfect clarity. The terminal. Kallus hadn't tried to hack or delete anything. He had simply added a single, seemingly innocent line of code to the maintenance schedule. He knew exactly what it meant—an endless loop that would effectively lock down any TIE launch from that dock.

For a heartbeat, he savored it—the power he suddenly held over Kallus. One word from him and he could sink the man completely.

But then another thought struck him. A better thought. The idea of Thrawn’s surprise and frustration when the truth eventually came out filled him with a strange satisfaction. If he kept it to himself now, he could cause far more damage later. A flicker of amusement sparked in his eyes as he calmly smiled and shook his head.

“No, Grand Admiral. When we arrived, Kallus was already leaving. Nothing suspicious.”

The room fell into tense silence. Thrawn studied him with that piercing, analytical stare of his. But after a long moment, Thrawn simply leaned back into his chair.

“How interesting,” he murmured, almost contemplative. The Inquisitor knew he’d just stepped into a very dangerous game—a game where victory wasn’t guaranteed, but Thrawn had definitely felt the opening move.

The Twelfth Brother caught Kallus out of the corner of his eye. Their gazes met for a fraction of a second, and the unspoken understanding in that glance said more than words ever could.

‘That ISB fucker has to know I could bury him with one word,’ the Inquisitor thought with quiet satisfaction. ‘Now he’s gotta be wondering why the fuck I didn’t.’

Even more satisfying was the look on Thrawn’s face—still unreadable, but with the faintest crack in his certainty.

The Inquisitor hated being Thrawn’s errand boy, just another pawn in his meticulous little game of dejarik. But this? This was a step, however small, toward control.

“Inquisitor,” Thrawn’s voice cut through his thoughts. The Grand Admiral rose from his chair with measured calm, one of the datapads in hand, and walked toward him. “There remains the question of where the Rebels were headed. We know they operate somewhere in the Lothal sector, but we require more precise intelligence.”

The Inquisitor arched a brow and accepted the datapad with deliberate disinterest. He skimmed the reports and cross-referenced data with practiced ease. As much as he hated to admit it, the thoroughness was impressive: hyperlane jump patterns, comms disruptions around Garel, and minor anomalies most commanders would’ve dismissed as noise.

“You’ll have Lieutenant Quinn at your disposal,” Thrawn continued in that calm, analytical tone. “As a native of Lothal, her familiarity with the terrain and local culture will give you a tactical advantage.”

The Inquisitor shot Mei a sideways glance. ‘Of course she’s from Lothal,’ he thought with an inward sneer. Her startled expression confirmed just how naive she still was. But she recovered quickly and nodded. “Yes, Grand Admiral.”

Thrawn didn’t even look at her. “You’ll coordinate with Governor Pryce. Keep her informed on your progress. If necessary, she will provide you with further resources.”

‘Pryce? That pompous bitch?’ Rage coiled in his chest, his fists tightening. This was exactly the kind of assignment he despised—chasing rumors, kissing the ring of self-important politicians, and bowing to bureaucrats he considered beneath him.

He forced a cold smile. “As you command, Grand Admiral.”

But in his head, a thought gnawed at him: this was no mission, it was a punishment. Thrawn was making a point: his failure with the prisoner hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Thrawn gave the barest nod. “Leave at once. And see to it that your future performance provides a more compelling argument for your continued usefulness, Inquisitor.”

The words sliced like a vibroknife. The datapad in Inquisitors’s hand suddenly went dark, its screen dead. He didn’t even flinch. Instead of lashing out, the Inquisitor just smirked, cold and defiant.

‘Laugh it up, fucker,’ he thought. ‘Let’s see whose perfect ship comes crashing down first.’

He jerked his head for Mei to follow.

As he turned, he caught Kallus watching him quietly, his expression unreadable. Both of them knew: they were in the middle of a dangerous game now.

When the doors slid shut behind them, the Inquisitor strode down the corridor in silence. In his cybernetic palm, he felt the cool weight of a small, ornate coin he’d swiped from Thrawn’s desk without a second thought. An old habit. A silent little fuck you left behind for the Grand Admiral.

He stopped and waited for Mei to catch up. Then he opened his palm, revealing the small, dark coin resting against the metal of his cybernetic hand.

“You think this thing’s worth anything?” he asked lazily, watching her expression shift exactly the way he’d expected. Her eyes widened in pure panic, and she froze.

“Sir, you have to put that back immediately!” she hissed, glancing around the corridor as if Thrawn’s eyes could already be on them. “If the Grand Admiral finds out—”

“Finds out what?” he cut her off with a sharp grin. He savored the fear on her face. “That one of his little trinkets went missing? The man hoards junk like it means something. To him, it’s art. To me?” He closed his fist, the metal fingers grinding against the coin. “Just a piece of metal. And now it’s my piece of metal. Move.”

Without another word, he turned and strode down the corridor, not bothering to check if she followed. Of course she did—he could hear her hurried, uneven steps behind him. For a while, they walked in tense silence, broken only by the steady hum of the ship.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her taking a deep breath, straightening her posture, slipping back into her mask of the perfect, obedient lieutenant.

‘Good little soldier. Knows when to stop whining and fall back in line.’

When she finally spoke, her voice was steadier, though still edged with unease. “So… we’re searching for the Rebels in the Lothal sector,” Mei began cautiously. “What’s your plan, sir?”

“Plan?” he scoffed with a bitter smirk. “The plan is to play his fucking game. That smug bastard wants us to think he sent us on a hunt. Truth is, he’s just shoving us out of the way so we don’t trip over his precious plans.”

His tone was cold, edged with a strange conviction. He knew this was a game he could easily lose… but for the first time in a long while, he didn’t care. What mattered was making Thrawn feel the sting of every move.

The Inquisitor suddenly stopped in the middle of the corridor. Mei, caught off guard, nearly walked past him before halting and turning back. He stood half-turned, eyes fixed on nothing.

“You didn’t tell him,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question. Not an accusation, either. More like a fact he couldn’t quite believe.

Mei blinked, confused. “No, sir,” she answered cautiously. “Should I have?”

He turned toward her then, his gaze sharp, searching her face as if it held some hidden code.

‘Yeah, but… Why? Why wouldn’t she?’

“You could have,” he said at last, his voice low but heavy with meaning. “You could’ve told him I nearly beat her to death. Laid it all at my feet and walked away clean.”

Mei gave a faint, uncertain smile. “I only did what I thought was right,” she said softly. “And I think we both know the truth is the last thing the Grand Admiral wants to hear.”

The Inquisitor stared at her in silence. That wasn’t the answer he’d expected. He’d expected fear, excuses… anything but quiet complicity. His head lifted slightly, his gaze intense.

“Truth is just another fucking weapon,” he muttered. “And you left it in the holster. In front of Thrawn. That’s a bold move.” His words carried no threat, just a blunt acknowledgment of the risk she’d taken.

“I know,” Mei admitted, drawing in a deep breath. “But I don’t think the Grand Admiral has any reason to doubt us.”

That word. Us. A ghost of a grin tugged at his mouth. Better than he’d hoped.

“Us?” he echoed quietly, watching the color rise in her cheeks.

“Our loyalty to the Empire, sir,” she corrected quickly, eyes dropping.

‘No, you didn’t mean the Empire,’ he thought. But what he said was something else entirely. Stepping closer, his voice dropped to something almost conspiratorial.

“Loyalty to the Empire? That’s just bullshit they feed the recruits. The Empire takes what it wants from you and tosses you aside. Commanders change with the weather. The only thing that really matters is who’s standing next to you when it all goes to a shithole.” His gaze bore into hers. “And today, you stood next to me.”

He paused, the words hanging heavy between them. A low hum filled the air, and the lights above them buzzed, flickering erratically in the sudden silence. He then added almost under his breath, as if the thought surprised even him: “I just still don’t know why the fuck you did.”

Before Mei could answer, any trace of that strange vulnerability vanished. His expression went cold and hard. “Get your shit together,” he ordered sharply, his voice once again dismissive. “Hangar. By the Reaper. Move.”

The doors closed behind the Inquisitor and Lieutenant Quinn. Silence settled over the room—heavy and cold. Kallus felt as though even the art pieces on the walls were watching him with their lifeless eyes. He remained by the wall, hands clasped neatly behind his back, forcing his breathing to stay calm even as his heart pounded against his ribs.

‘He saw it. He knew. So why didn’t he say anything?’

“You know, Agent Kallus,” Thrawn finally spoke, and the sound nearly made Kallus flinch. “I don’t believe the Inquisitor told us the whole truth.”

Kallus kept his voice even. “Yes, Grand Admiral. I had the same impression.”

‘Careful, Alexsandr. Every word could be a trap.’

Thrawn turned, his crimson eyes pinning him. “It’s clear something has escaped us. Which is why I have a particular task for you.”

For an instant, Kallus’s heart stopped. “What task, sir?”

“The Twelfth Brother can be… unpredictable. I want you to observe him closely,” Thrawn said. “Discreetly. Any findings, you report to me at once.”

Kallus felt the noose tighten around his neck. The Inquisitor had covered for him, and now Thrawn wanted him to betray that very man. He was caught in a vice. “Yes, Grand Admiral,” he replied, because no other answer existed.

Thrawn turned back to the holoprojections. “Lieutenant Quinn is a key factor. Do not interfere with her actions unless it becomes absolutely necessary.”

Then those eyes flicked back to him once more, studying him like a dejarik piece before its next move. “Governor Pryce is aware of your capabilities… and your history on Lothal, Agent. Once she learns of the Inquisitor’s assignment, I expect she will request your assistance. Do not refuse. It will be… the perfect opportunity for your task.”

‘Maybe he already knows,’ the thought stabbed through Kallus with icy dread. ‘Knows about me… or at least suspects. And now he’s using me as a pawn against the Inquisitor.’

As he left the chamber, one thought weighed heavily in his mind: this wasn’t about the Rebels anymore. It wasn’t even about the Empire. It was about which of them would betray the other first—him or the Inquisitor. And Thrawn would simply watch and wait.

‘Or…’ a third, reckless thought sparked in his mind. The idea was dangerous, so dangerous he pushed it aside at once. But the seed of doubt—and defiance—had already been planted.

Ezra jerked awake, his heart lurching as he realized he’d drifted off. His eyes flew open, and the first thing he saw was Nix’s pale face.

‘I fell asleep? How long? What if—’

“Easy,” came Lokin’s quiet, weary voice. “You looked like you were about to collapse any second, so I let you rest.”

Ezra ignored the ache of his own exhaustion. “How is she?”

Lokin’s expression was grave. “Still right on the edge. No change.”

Ezra opened his mouth, but before he could form a response, the whole ship jolted hard, pulling them out of hyperspace.

‘I guess we’re here.’

The minutes that followed, while Hera guided the Ghost into landing, felt like an eternity. Every flicker of a console light, every status update from the cockpit set his nerves on fire. Then, finally, he felt the ship settle with a soft thud.

The door opened almost immediately, and Sabine hurried inside, a little out of breath. “We’re down,” she reported. “Hera’s already in contact with Sato. There’s a doctor waiting at the ramp—Andria. She’ll take care of her. As for Doctor Lokin…” She gave him an apologetic glance. “For now, he stays. Sato wants to question him.”

Lokin nodded calmly. “I expected as much.”

A hiss of hydraulics announced the ramp lowering, and in strode Commander Sato alongside a tall Mirialan woman whose composed, professional bearing left no doubt she was in charge.

‘That must be Doctor Andria.’

Her sharp eyes swept the scene, and her voice cut through the tension with calm authority. “We need to move her immediately.”

Ezra started to protest, but something in her look stopped him cold. Before he could speak, Andria and a medical droid were already lifting Nix onto a stretcher. Moments later, she was out of sight. He was left standing in the silence until a quiet voice broke it.

“You did everything you could for her, kid,” Doctor Lokin said. He stood a short distance away, flanked by Hera and Sato. He didn’t wait for a response, just gave Ezra a brief, almost imperceptible nod of respect before allowing them to lead him away.

Ezra remained, standing alone in the silence of the empty cargo bay.

“Ezra,” Sabine said gently, her voice drawing him back. “Come on. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

He nodded wordlessly and followed her down the ramp. The dry soil of the base crunched under his boots. Zeb was waiting at the bottom, arms folded across his chest.

“Hey, kid,” Zeb rumbled, quieter than usual. “You look like you’re about to keel over.”

“I’m fine,” Ezra answered, though his voice sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Together they walked through the scattered structures of the base, silent, until they reached a squat building lit by a red emblem over the door. The infirmary.

‘She’s in there because of me. Hooked up to machines because I left her behind. If I hadn’t—’

They stopped in front of the entrance, the weight of the moment pressing down. It was Kanan who finally broke the silence, his calm voice cutting right through Ezra’s thoughts. “It isn’t your fault, Ezra. You did exactly what she asked you to. And then you went back for her. That’s all that matters.”

Ezra flinched, startled—he hadn’t even noticed when Kanan had joined them. His gaze flicked between Kanan and Sabine. “But what if that’s not enough?” he whispered, his voice carrying the full weight of the last few days.

“Then you tell her what she means to you,” Sabine said firmly. “Because I think she deserves to know.”

Ezra looked at her in surprise, then dropped his eyes. ‘I don’t know if I can.’

Before anyone could speak again, the stillness shattered. A piercing alarm wailed from inside the infirmary, long and unbroken. Ezra’s heart slammed against his ribs as he leapt to his feet.

The doors burst open, and Doctor Andria rushed out, her professional composure gone, replaced by panic and fury. She ignored Ezra and the others, tapping furiously at the comm on her wrist.

“Sato, where is he?!” she snapped into it without preamble. “I told you I needed him NOW! The girl is dying in here!” Her eyes scanned the base frantically. “I don’t care what he is, just get that Imperial to me immediately!”

A sharp wail from the medical alarm inside made her curse in frustration. She shot a desperate glance at Ezra’s group before spinning around and running back into the infirmary without another word. The door slammed shut behind her.

Ezra, Kanan, and Sabine stood frozen, the silence deafening, broken only by the muffled beeping from behind the door. The few seconds it took for Hera and Sato to appear at the end of the path, hurrying doctor Lokin between them, felt like an eternity.

“In here,” Hera said, pointing at the door just as it flew open again. Andria didn’t waste a second.

“What did you give her?! She’s not responding to standard stimulants!” she snapped at Lokin as she dragged him inside.

“Don’t administer more stimulants, it will worsen the intracranial pressure!” Lokin shouted back, already halfway through the door. “Her neurological response is atypical! I need her exact readings, now!”

“What’s happening?!” Ezra gasped, taking a step toward the door.

Hera placed a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. “Steady, Ezra. Andria is the best doctor we have. And now she has him to assist,” she said, nodding toward the door, her tone practical. “We’ve given her the best chance we can. There’s nothing more to do right now.” Her calm voice grounded him in that hard reality. Then she turned to Sato. “Commander?”

Sato’s nod was short, his eyes fixed on the closed doors. “Protocol can wait. Let them save the girl first.” With that, he pivoted sharply and strode away, leaving the others in tense silence.

Time felt like it had frozen in place. Every minute dragged unbearably, the tense silence almost painful to endure.

At last, the doors slid open with a hiss, and Doctor Lokin emerged first. He looked utterly drained, leaning against the doorframe for support and breathing heavily. His eyes found Ezra in the small, waiting group.

“She’s stable,” he said, his voice quiet but clear. “We got her heart started again. But it was a matter of seconds.”

Only then did Hera step forward. “Doctor Lokin, please come with me,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Commander Sato is waiting for us.”

Lokin gave a weary nod and followed her without protest, disappearing deeper into the base. Ezra barely noticed them leave—his focus was locked on the half-open door, where he caught sight of Doctor Andria checking the monitors above Nix’s bed.

Hesitantly, he took a step forward. “Go to her,” Sabine whispered. “You wouldn’t last out here anyway.”

Ezra slowly crossed the threshold and peeked inside. Andria glanced up from the monitors. The stern edge in her face softened when she saw the worry etched across his features.

“She’s stable,” Andria said quietly. “We pulled her through the worst. Now she just needs rest.”

Ezra felt the crushing weight on his chest finally ease. “Can I… can I stay with her? Just for a while?” His voice was barely audible.

Andria studied him for a moment, then gave the faintest smile—the first hint of kindness he’d seen in her expression. “All right. But no disturbances.” She nodded toward a simple stool in the corner. “And you should rest, too.”

“Thank you,” Ezra breathed, stepping softly into the room. He sat beside her bed, gently took her hand in his, and whispered, “I’m glad you made it. I know it’s not over yet, but… we’re still here. Together.”

Fatigue pulled at him harder with every moment. At last, he let his head rest on the edge of her bed. The steady beat of her heart and the quiet rhythm of her breathing were like music, lulling him into a deep, dream-laden sleep.

Darkness stretched around him, endless and absolute. Only a shallow pool of black water beneath his feet broke the void. Its surface was cold and still, like glass. The air was heavy, lifeless, and the silence so complete he could hear nothing but the muffled pounding of his own heart. Ezra wasn’t sure if this was a dream—or something else. The strange, suffocating calm pressed in from all sides, yet he could feel he wasn’t alone.

Instinct made him stop, eyes straining through the void for the source of that presence. At first, there was nothing, only monotone emptiness. Then, further ahead, he spotted a figure sitting motionless at the water’s edge. Shoulders slumped in defeat, head bowed so low that long, snow-white hair veiled her face. Even at a distance, he knew her instantly. His heart leapt.

Nix.

He hurried toward her, each step faster than the last… until the air thickened with a suffocating presence of the dark side. It wasn’t like the Inquisitors or even Vader. This was older, deeper… so arrogant it made him nauseous.

He froze as a deep, commanding male voice cut through the void: “You’ve made your choice. Now you must accept its price.”

Ezra’s head snapped up. The voice came from Nix, yet it wasn’t hers. Another figure stood beside her—at first only a vague shadow, darker than the surrounding dark. As Ezra edged closer, the form sharpened.

A tall man in long, ornate robes. White with golden trim, glowing unnaturally in the void. And finally, his face: pale, with sharp, regal features, and eyes of cold, gleaming gold fixed on Nix with detached amusement. He carried himself like a sovereign, as though the entire abyss belonged to him.

The man didn’t look away from Nix, but a cruel smile tugged at his lips. “It seems you’ve brought company, little Sith,” he said, voice dripping with lazy amusement. “Or perhaps he found you.”

Only then did he turn his head. His golden eyes locked onto Ezra’s, and a chill ran the length of Ezra’s spine. That gaze was worse than any scream… pure, unchallenged power.

Nix jerked her head up, her face twisting with shock and fear. “What?” she breathed. “Ezra? How did you get here?”

Ezra started to answer, but Nix’s focus snapped back to the man beside her.

“How did you do that?!” she shouted. Ezra flinched as her golden eyes flared with unnatural light, crackling sparks of energy spitting from their corners, sizzling in the silence.

The man only watched with icy calm, the cruelty in his eyes shining brighter as if entertained by a child’s tantrum. “I did nothing at all.”

“Stay away from him!” Nix screamed, dark energy whipping around her. “He’s not part of the deal!”

Ezra’s voice finally broke free, raw with confusion. “Deal? Nix… what’s going on here?”

At the sound of him, the lightning in her eyes sputtered out. She rushed to him, gripping his shoulders. “You can’t be here, Ezra. Please, you have to go.”

He wanted to protest, but the desperation in her eyes—and the memory of that overwhelming energy—froze the words in his throat.

In the next instant, Ezra jolted awake, gasping. His heart hammered against his ribs. The room around him was calm, silent. Nix lay beside him, breathing evenly, as if nothing had happened.

Slowly, he leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling as the vision replayed over and over in his mind. That man. His arrogant calm, those golden eyes full of power. And Nix—her terrifying, uncontrolled strength, and the desperate way she’d tried to protect him.

‘That hadn’t been an ordinary dream,’ he realized with chilling certainty. Nix hadn’t told him nearly everything about her past. And the man in the white robes might be the key to all of it.