"Report! A psychic awakening detected in the security district!"
Leia Organa's hands were tightly bound behind her back. Her feet were shackled with iron chains. Around her neck, a suppression collar that inhibited supernatural energy had sealed away her Force powers.
Yet the fully armed Imperial Guard soldiers escorting the petite woman who called herself a princess still treated her like a dangerous enemy, tense and vigilant.
Perhaps, to those auxiliary soldiers and servitors of the Sacred Selene Empire who were not native to the A–13 Grand Sector (Warhammer 40K), their behavior seemed excessive.
After all, she was just a delicate young girl, barely one and a half meters tall. Harmless in appearance. The faint energy ripple from her Force awakening could hardly compare to an explosive round.
But the veterans of the Astra Militarum—former Imperial Guardsmen of the old Imperium who had yet to be fully assimilated into the new order—disagreed.
Their mindset could not change overnight.
In the Sacred Selene Empire, training to awaken and control Honkai Energy or psychic power was considered admirable, even exciting—it meant strength, promotion, and wealth.
However, for those who had spent most of their lives in the grim old Imperium, a newly awakened psyker was an omen of disaster. It meant the arrival of the Inquisition's Black Ships, the intervention of the Adeptus Arbites, and the Commissariat's summary executions.
Handled poorly, such incidents could result in catastrophe—akin to a Chaos incursion. Even when the psyker was captured, it was common for witnesses to be mind-wiped or executed.
The Force, they thought? Who knew whether this so-called Force was just another form of psychic energy? Who could say what dangers it carried?
To those battle-hardened veterans, it was safest to assume the worst.
When Leia deliberately slowed her steps to observe her surroundings, one of the armored soldiers—clearly not the gentle type—shoved her roughly between the shoulders, nearly knocking her over.
"Move!"
"Soldier, is this how you treat a princess—"
Leia turned and glared sharply at him. But before she could finish her words, the Krieg Guardsman raised the butt of his lasgun in silent warning. Leia immediately realized it would be foolish to argue with this 'clone-like' soldier about the humane treatment of prisoners.
Her little test had yielded results: these troops had no concept of the Alderaan system's royalty or the Rebel Alliance. From the uncovered faces of the Cadian troops, Leia saw open hostility—and something even darker: indulgence.
Yes, they wanted her to resist, so they could have an excuse to kill her.
Leia had no doubt about that.
In contrast, the officers and elite soldiers—whose uniforms were more ornate and precise—were indifferent. They simply regarded her as a captured individual who might know something useful.
Soon, she was led into a massive, high-ceilinged command center hastily constructed from modular structures. Passing through several layers of security doors, Leia used the corner of her eye to analyze the building's structure and defenses. Then, as she turned a corner, a looming shadow fell upon her.
A statue.
A colossal figure, towering over a hundred meters high.
Even Leia, known for her composure, was momentarily stunned.
She could not understand why such a massive and impractical sculpture had been placed in this temporary command center—but the platforms and personnel operating beneath it made its significance clear.
It was a monument, a symbol of devotion.
Even if the rest of the command hub was spartan, the majestic arches and lavish pillars surrounding the statue created an awe-inspiring, almost sacred atmosphere.
Sacred Selene Empire—the word "sacred" itself… Was this statue the object of their faith and allegiance?
Leia could not help but compare it to the Emperor of the Galactic Empire, Palpatine.
If Emperor Palpatine was a withered old man—pale-skinned, with sickly yellow eyes and a perpetual scowl beneath a heavy black cloak—then this statue of white marble radiated overwhelming grandeur, exultant pride, and absolute dominance.
...
The radiant halo like a great sun and the silken ribbons flowing from the goddess's waist shimmered beneath the crystal chandeliers, as though alive. Their folds and textures gleamed as if dusted with gold, glowing resplendently. From this divine statue emanated an aura of vitality and light.
But why?
Why would an army that worshiped such a radiant deity act with such savagery and cruelty? They were no different from Palpatine's stormtroopers—perhaps even worse in some respects.
"So, you're the one who wanted to see me?"
Frowning, the auxiliary army colonel—who had just received the report of a Force-sensitive's capture—temporarily set aside his tactical coordination of the planetary subcity purge. Wearing a real-time translation earpiece, his robust frame loomed before Leia. His pale blue eyes were cold as ice, reflecting a sharp, threatening glint.
"The so-called Princess?" he asked in Galactic Basic.
"Princess of Alderaan. Leia Organa," she corrected him without fear. "Colonel, I don't know where you're from, nor why you act with such arrogance and impunity—attacking every power across the galaxy without distinction. Light or dark, official or underground, it seems every notable faction in the Arkanis Sector and beyond has suffered heavy losses due to your invasions."
A polite way to put it.
Who gave you the courage to do this?
Leia wanted to spit those words into his face—to make clear her defiance—but restrained herself. She needed to understand what this Sacred Selene Empire truly was.
Whether or not she could get the message out, she had to try.
"You're not going to introduce yourself?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, raising her bound hands behind her back as if to make a point. "Or are you all—" She glanced around at the armored giants, the colorfully uniformed officers, and the fit, sharp-eyed female adjutants. "—afraid of an unarmed woman?"
"Hmph..." The colonel gave a short laugh. "A Jedi apprentice, using provocation as her weapon. Clever." His voice was low, but carried easily over her protest.
"Sacred Selene Empire, Inquisition, 23,625th Frontier War Zone, Provisional 12th Fleet, Planet Zak II Ground Security Command. Colonel of the Imperial Auxiliary Army—Derrick Barre."
He offered the introduction without hesitation; there was nothing to hide.
"Just a colonel?" Leia said, unimpressed. "I request to meet your superior—your fleet commander, your general—or your ruler."
"How bold," Barre sneered.
Laughter rippled among the gathered officers and soldiers. Meet the Empress? They themselves weren't qualified for that.
"So, my lady, your request—does it mean you intend to pledge loyalty to the Divine Empress? On behalf of your Alderaan system?" He lowered his head, narrowing his eyes. "Can you offer value to the Empire?"
Barre's threatening tone and menacing presence seemed to have no effect on Leia. "Value? The purpose of the Rebel Alliance—our pursuit of freedom—holds infinite worth."
"Oh, so you're trying to bargain with nothing in hand," Barre said coldly.
"Destruction or survival—choose." His face hardened, muscles tensing beneath his uniform. The sharp tone carried the weight of command.
From a colonial world to an auxiliary colonel—he had seen everything. The woman before him showed no intention to cooperate; she had come here prepared to die, or perhaps to gather intelligence. Either way, Barre lost interest in questioning her further.
"I need time—" Leia began.
"Guards! Take her away!" Barre barked, cutting her off.
Without hesitation, he glanced toward a nearby Krieg officer. "Interrogation—memory extraction. Easy on her; don't fry her brain. Take it slow. As a newly awakened Jedi apprentice, she might still be useful."
...
Oh my, this was a disaster.
Through the tendrils of the Honkai tide that had seeped into the Star Wars universe alongside the expeditionary fleet, Selene—using her own sacred statue as an anchor infused with faith, devotion, zeal, hatred, and despair—watched everything from the capital. Despite being separated by the infinite distance of the multiverse, the connection was clear, almost like perfect network signal.
From her throne within the Imperial City, she observed the entire melodrama unfold before her eyes—a tragic little soap opera titled "The Princess's Noble Sacrifice."
Selene's consciousness, faintly anchored to her sacred statue, watched without emotion as Darth Vader's daughter was forced to the ground by Krieg Death Korps grenadiers, her mouth sealed before she was dragged away.
Meet me?
No. Begone.
Do you think you can see me whenever you wish? Who do you think I am?
In this universe, there were few things that truly interested Selene. The omnipresent Force was one. The millennia of development behind the Galactic Republic and the Galactic Empire—their refined technology and vast industrial structure—was another. The countless diverse alien species and intelligent lifeforms might count as half of one.
And finally, Darth Vader—or rather, Anakin Skywalker—perhaps another half.
As the so-called Chosen One, Darth Vader was born from prophecy to bring balance to the Force. He had no father, conceived by the Force itself, his midichlorian count astonishing.
In a way, Vader's 'father' could be said to be the previous Sith Lord, Darth Plagueis—the master of Emperor Palpatine.
As a Dark Lord of the Sith, Plagueis had been both powerful and wise. It was he who first sought to manipulate the Force to influence the midichlorians, allowing life to be conceived without fertilization.
The Dark Side of the Force was not inherently evil; it was simply a power most considered unnatural.
As for why Vader fell from the Light to the Dark Side, the roots lay in the corruption of the Old Republic Senate, the rise of separatism across the galaxy, and the rigidity of the Jedi Order itself.
All three together forged his downfall.
During the Clone Wars, Anakin had witnessed corruption among senators, the impotence of the Galactic Senate, and the chaos caused by the separatists. Then tragedy struck—his mother was killed during a raid by Tatooine slavers.
Driven by grief and rage, the Dark Side awakened within him. Consumed by vengeance, Anakin slaughtered every last raider. Then, guided by his fury, he hunted down their families—their children, their elders—and wiped them all out.
Such actions clearly violated Jedi tenets.
Condemned and mistrusted by the Jedi Council, Anakin's faith in the Order crumbled. In the turmoil that followed, he lost everything—his forbidden wife, his Padawan, even Captain Rex, his most loyal clone officer during the Clone Wars.
He lost his mother, wife, children, apprentice, and closest friend. And the Jedi Council—the institution to which he had devoted half his life—rejected him utterly.
Truly, fate had dealt him every pain imaginable, each one after the other, in cruel succession.
Anyone else would have gone mad.
Even so, Anakin clung to a final hope—to find within the Jedi Archives the knowledge to save Padmé. Yet much of it was restricted to Jedi Masters only.
And the Council refused to grant him that title.
Add to this the constant whispers of Palpatine—the Sith Lord who fanned his doubts and fears—and his fall was inevitable.
Selene admitted that she could hardly blame him. In his place, she might have lost her mind even sooner.
That same pain, that same desperation for control and justice, was why Vader sought to forge a fair and orderly Empire. The chaos of the Republic had scarred him deeply.
Selene almost pitied the poor man.
Almost.
Of course, pity never outweighed practicality. She would use him as long as he was useful—and if not, she would discard or destroy him without hesitation. She felt no remorse for such things.
"Regicide is practically a Sith tradition," she mused. "If Darth Vader kills Emperor Palpatine and folds part of the Galactic Empire into my domain, that would make for a fine little maneuver."
If he failed, so be it.
It would simply mean that the Galactic Empire, the Rebel Alliance, and those so-called Jedi successors would all become fresh material—raw recruits for her expanding legions.
Selene had no intention of changing her imperial directive of 'reorganize while conquering.'
"It seems to be working well," she murmured.
From her vantage within the hundred-meter-tall statue, she gazed down at the great hall, watching as former Astra Militarum officers and commissars—under the guidance of Imperial Auxiliary tech-officers—quickly adapted to standard-issue armaments, tactical terminals, AI-assisted systems, and servitor command protocols.
Technicians hurried between consoles, and newly uniformed officers calibrated their command hubs. Then, suddenly, a communications operator stood up sharply, eyes fixed on his monitor.
"Report! The orbital fleet has detected a Galactic Imperial Navy formation at the edge of the Zak system! Based on official database readings, it's the Death Squadron commanded by Darth Vader—the Dark Lord himself. Flagship: Executor!"
"They're transmitting a request for communication. Identification codes confirm highest priority clearance under Imperial War Zone authorization!"
"Frontline command has already acknowledged—"
The noise of the hall reached Selene's distant awareness. She watched silently.
So, he's come. Good. As for Leia… she could leave her to her father.
To be perfectly honest, whether Leia lived or died didn't matter to her in the slightest. Either way, the girl was merely a small adjustment—a pawn in a larger game.
Beep, beep.
The great doors to the hall slid open with a hiss. Marching in perfect step came a gold-armored guardsman and a Sister of Silence. Their crimson plumes fluttered as they halted, boots striking in unison.
"Leia Organa," the guardsman announced. "Your father has come to fetch you."
"My father?"
At the words, Leia—pale and restrained between two Krieg soldiers—went blank, her expression stunned.
...
Meanwhile, in the Endor System—
Within the control chamber of the Death Star II, beneath the heavy, shadowed cloak, the aged Emperor slowly opened his yellowing eyes.
—
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