SCENE unfolds with a quiet tension beneath its surface, a contrast to the chaos that had defined so much of the war. From my perspective, the stillness was deceptive. War never truly paused—it only shifted, repositioned, waited. After returning alongside Moff Trachta, I wasted no time ensuring Ahsoka and the others were sent away to rest. They needed it more than they realized. Their bodies, unlike mine, had not been tempered by layered lifetimes of training—monastic discipline, Resistance warfare against Skynet, and the thousand-year crucible of the Mind Prison granted by Darth Nox. That kind of conditioning came at a cost, one I bore alone. The Jedi Temple gardens, particularly the ice region, would serve them well. Controlled hardship, gradual adaptation. They would grow stronger there. They had to.
I, however, was given no such reprieve.
The Council's summons came swiftly, as expected. Naboo. The name alone carried weight—political, strategic, symbolic. A Republic jewel. And now, a problem. Contact had been lost with a Gungan colony on Ohma-D'un, one of Naboo's moons. The Republic had already dispatched a team: myself, Master Glaive, and Jedi Zule Xiss. A small unit, deliberately so. Yoda had emphasized secrecy. No fleets. No overwhelming presence. Just a surgical investigation.
I stood in the hangar bay, the hum of engines and distant chatter of clones blending into a familiar background noise. My armor—black, angular, and deliberately intimidating—felt like a second skin. It wasn't traditional Jedi attire, and that was the point. The emblem of the 13th Legion burned faintly across my chest plate, a fusion of Jedi and Sith symbolism that would have unsettled many within the Order if they truly understood it.
Footsteps approached.
I didn't turn immediately. I could feel them through the Force.
Master Glaive. Heavy presence. Direct. Blunt.
Zule Xiss. Sharp. Unstable. Curious.
"It's about time you arrived," I said without looking at them.
"General Dagon," Glaive replied, his tone carrying that same rough edge I remembered from Jablim. "You seem… different."
I turned then, letting my gaze settle on him. He did look like a warrior from some ancient northern world—broad, scarred, hardened. Not unlike the soldiers I had once commanded in another life.
"War changes people," I said simply. "You should know that."
Zule stepped forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied me. There was something else in her gaze—recognition, perhaps. Or suspicion.
"You're the one they call the 'Dark Warrior,'" she said. Not a question. A statement.
I held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary. "Names are irrelevant. Results are not."
Glaive crossed his arms. "We're not here to debate reputations. We're here because a colony vanished."
"Exactly," I replied. "And we have two hours before departure. So listen carefully."
The ramp to the Nu-class shuttle lowered behind me with a mechanical hiss. Inside, ten clone commandos were already preparing equipment. Among them stood Puck—Alpha-17. Reliable. Lethal. One of the few I trusted completely in frontline engagements.
"We go in quiet," I continued as we boarded. "No transmissions. No Republic signatures. If the CIS is involved, they won't know we're there until it's too late."
"And if it's not the CIS?" Zule asked.
"Then we adapt," I said. "We always adapt."
---
From Zule Xiss's perspective, the atmosphere inside the shuttle felt… wrong. Not hostile. Not exactly. But heavy. Like stepping into a storm that hadn't decided whether to break.
She had heard the stories. Everyone had. The "Dark Warrior." The Jedi who fought like something else entirely. She had dismissed most of it as exaggeration—soldiers and civilians needed legends, after all.
But standing here now, she wasn't so sure.
Dagon Marek didn't feel like the other Jedi. There was something beneath the surface. Something restrained.
Her master, Glaive, leaned slightly toward her, speaking in a low voice. "Watch him."
"I was planning to," she replied quietly.
Dagon didn't turn, but she could feel it—he had heard them.
"Good," he said calmly. "You should."
Zule frowned. "You always this… welcoming?"
"I prefer efficient," he answered. "We don't have the luxury of comfort in war."
She crossed her arms. "Funny. Most Jedi still believe in it."
"Most Jedi are losing this war," Dagon replied without hesitation.
The words hung in the air.
Glaive's expression hardened slightly. "Careful."
"I am," Dagon said. "That's why I'm still alive."
Zule felt something twist in her chest. Anger? Or agreement?
She wasn't sure.
---
The shuttle lifted smoothly from the hangar, merging into the endless traffic lanes of Coruscant before breaking free toward hyperspace. Inside, the hum of the engines became a steady rhythm, almost meditative.
From my perspective, the silence was welcome. It gave me time to think.
Naboo. Ohma-D'un.
Something wasn't right.
Disappearances like this rarely were.
I closed my eyes briefly, reaching into the Force. Not deeply—just enough to sense the currents ahead. There was disturbance. Faint, but present. Not chaotic like battle… more like something concealed.
Interesting.
Zule's voice broke the silence. "You've been there before?"
I opened my eyes. "Naboo? Yes. Ohma-D'un? No."
"What do you think we'll find?" she pressed.
"Survivors, if we're lucky," I said. "Clues, if we're not."
"And if we're unlucky?"
I met her gaze again. "Then we find what killed them."
She didn't look away this time.
"Good," she said. "I prefer honesty."
Glaive chuckled quietly. "You might regret that."
---
The shuttle dropped out of hyperspace near Naboo's orbit, its elegant blue-green sphere glowing softly in the distance. From there, we adjusted course toward Ohma-D'un.
The moon appeared quiet. Too quiet.
"No active transmissions," one of the commandos reported.
"Thermal scans?" I asked.
"Minimal. Almost no life signs."
That confirmed it.
Something had gone very wrong.
"Stay sharp," I said. "We land, we secure a perimeter, then we move."
Puck nodded. "Understood, sir."
Zule ignited her lightsaber briefly, the green blade casting a soft glow across her face before she deactivated it again.
Glaive rolled his shoulders, as if preparing for a fight he already expected.
As for me… I simply watched.
The Force was shifting.
And whatever waited below…
…it wasn't going to be simple.