=== Obi-Wan ===
The night was quiet, save for the low crackle of fires still smoldering across the battlefield. The ruins of the droid army lay in every direction, shattered hulls, scattered limbs, and blackened scorch marks carved into the ground like scars. Smoke curled upward in thin, ghostly wisps, and the faint metallic smell of ozone lingered over the plains.
Obi-Wan sat upon a stone near the edge of a fire, his cloak wrapped around his shoulders to ward off the cool night air. His gaze lingered on the horizon where the moon cast its pale light over the broken earth. Even with victory secured, the sheer devastation weighed heavily upon him. Hundreds of thousands of droids had fallen… but so had countless men, clones, and civilians. He rubbed his thumb absentmindedly across the hilt of his lightsaber, the familiar metal cool under his touch, and tried to steady the thoughts swirling in his mind.
Boots crunched softly on the rubble-strewn ground. Obi-Wan did not need the Force to know who approached. Bo-Katan lowered herself beside him. She sat with her legs crossed, her helmet tucked under her arm, and turned her one good arm toward the warmth of the flames. The metal of her left arm reflected the firelight, though Obi-Wan could sense the dull ache radiating from her through the Force.
For a long moment, neither spoke. They both stared into the fire, its embers glowing and dying like tiny stars.
At last, it was Bo-Katan who broke the silence. Her voice was quieter than he expected.
"Tell me, Kenobi… Is my sister safe?"
Obi-Wan blinked, caught off guard. He turned his head slowly, studying her expression. She wasn't looking at him; her eyes were fixed on the fire, its flickering glow painting her face with shifting shadows.
"Satine…" he said carefully.
Bo-Katan nodded once, jaw set. "Dont play dumb. I know it was you." Her eyes flicked to him now, sharp, searching. "I need to know if she's alive. If she's… safe."
The Jedi Master exhaled softly. He had not expected this, not tonight.
"She is safe," Obi-Wan said finally, his voice steady but tinged with something deeper, more personal. "She is far from Mandalore, but unharmed. I give you my word."
Bo-Katan's lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, she seemed to wrestle with something unspoken. Then she gave a small sigh. "That's more than I expected to hear. And… better than I hoped."
Obi-Wan hesitated, then lowered his eyes to her metal arm. Guilt pricked at him. "I am… sorry, Bo-Katan. For what happened. For your arm. I never wished—"
"Don't," she interrupted, holding up her hand. Her tone was firm, but not bitter. "Don't apologize."
Obi-Wan looked at her, surprised.
"To be honest," Bo-Katan continued, leaning back slightly, "if my sister had remained on Mandalore… she'd be rotting in some Imperial dungeon right now. Or worse. You cut off my arm, yes, but you also took her away from all this. From… us." She nodded faintly in the direction of the Imperial encampment. "If I have to choose between Satine chained to our war machine or hidden away with someone who… cares for her," she glanced sidelong at Obi-Wan, a knowing flicker in her eyes, "then I'll take the latter."
Her words struck him harder than he expected. Obi-Wan felt his chest tighten, but he masked it with the same practiced composure he always carried. Still, his voice was softer when he replied. "That sounds dangerously close to treason."
Bo-Katan smirked faintly and shrugged with one shoulder. "Maybe it is. But the Lords," her chin tilted toward the heart of the camp where the largest fire burned, "have far greater things to worry about than one missing duchess."
Obi-Wan followed her gaze. There, seated on the other side of the firelight, Maximus towered even without his armor fully donned. The Ultramarine had removed his helmet, setting it beside him on the stone he sat upon, and the pale, firelit features of his scarred face were visible in the glow. Across from him sat Governor Wilhuff Tarkin, lean and sharp-eyed as ever, his posture rigid even in the supposed relaxation of the night. Between them rested a flat stone slab, upon which small carved pieces were arranged, an intricate war game board, salvaged from the ruins of a noble's hall earlier that day.
Bo-Katan watched too, her eyes narrowing faintly. "He asked Maximus if he'd test his mind against his own," she explained in a low voice.
Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow. "And Maximus accepted?"
"Of course he did," Bo-Katan replied. "They played. The Ultramarine lost the first round, still learning the rules, I think, but since then…" She let the thought trail off, watching as Tarkin leaned forward, lips tight in concentration, only for Maximus to move his massive gauntleted hand and shift three pieces in a devastating maneuver. Tarkin's eyes flicked, his face betraying only the faintest hint of irritation.
Obi-Wan allowed himself a small smile. "Since then, he's been winning."
"Every time," Bo-Katan said.
The fire popped, sending sparks spiraling into the air. Obi-Wan's gaze lingered on the game, then on Maximus himself. The man was a warrior beyond compare, an avatar of destruction on the battlefield, as Obi-Wan had seen firsthand. Yet here he was, sitting calmly, playing a game of strategy with a Republic governor. It was a strange sight… but perhaps a telling one.
Bo-Katan shifted beside him, her voice carrying a quiet, thoughtful edge. "That one fights like a beast, but his mind is sharp. It's an absolute pleasure being his second-in-command. If your Republic doesn't see that, it will be one of their greatest mistakes."
Obi-Wan said nothing, though he could not deny the truth in her words. The night stretched on, filled with the crackle of firewood, the occasional murmur of soldiers tending to the wounded, and the quiet click of carved pieces on stone as the game continued between the Ultramarine and the governor.
They sat quietly by the dwindling fire, its light painting faint shadows across their faces. He had meant only to rest his weary mind, but as the silence stretched, he found himself drifting into memory… or at least, he tried to.
The past rose before him in fragments, shards of images that slipped through his fingers like smoke. He recalled flashes of battles, the image of a massive giant's face, the sound of a voice he thought he should know. But the harder he tried to focus, the more those fragments frayed, dissolving into a fog that left his mind strangely empty.
A faint frown tugged at his lips. He was not a man prone to forgetfulness. His training, his discipline, his very sense of self had always been anchored in memory and duty. Yet now, as he searched the recesses of his mind, whole pieces seemed… missing. As though someone had gently, carefully pried them loose and left only the outline of what had once been.
He exhaled slowly, letting the strange unease fade with the crackle of the fire. Perhaps it was exhaustion, nothing more. Perhaps the weight of the war and loss had worn his mind thin. Whatever the truth, he told himself, it mattered little. Dwelling on shadows would not change what was to come.
Instead, he turned his gaze upward, toward the stars glittering against the blackened sky. The future stretched before him, uncertain but undeniable, and he chose to face it with the same resolve he had always carried. Whatever had been taken, or forgotten, could remain where it lay. The path ahead demanded his attention, and for that, he would be ready.
=== Sebastian ===
The landing ramp of the ship groaned as it descended onto the dusty surface of Zygerria's outlying moon. Black-armored figures marched down in perfect formation. At their head strode Sebastian, his storm shield attached to his left arm, his power sword sheathed inside its bulk.
The Republic forward base was nestled into the rocky basin of the moon, built from prefabricated durasteel walls and shield generators humming low in the air. Clone troopers stopped and straightened as the towering figure of the Black Templar passed. His presence was an iron weight pressing down on the camp, one that made even hardened veterans avert their gaze.
He didn't slow as the clones saluted or called out reports. The massive ceramite boots of his warplate struck the deck plates like the toll of a hammer, echoing ahead of him as he entered the central command bunker.
Inside, the air was thick with debate. A holomap flickered in the center of the chamber, showing Zygerria's cities and defense networks. Anakin Skywalker stood at one side, gesturing sharply as he spoke with Captain Rex. Ahsoka Tano stood nearby, her arms crossed, her expression a mixture of thought and frustration.
"I think we need to cut out the heart," Anakin said firmly, stabbing a finger into the map at the central spire of the capital. "If we take the leadership quickly, the rest of the Separatist garrison will crumble."
"With respect, General," Rex countered, shaking his helmeted head, "their anti-air defenses are too heavy. We'll lose half the gunships before we ever make it close. We should—"
The blast doors hissed open. The conversation died mid-sentence.
Sebastian strode into the room as if he owned it, as if this hidden moon base were a fortress built by his hand and the Jedi and clones were trespassers within it. Each step forward announcing that whatever had been said before was now irrelevant.
"You're wasting your breath," he rumbled, his voice carrying the gravel of thunder. He didn't look at the map, or at the debate frozen before him. He looked only at Anakin. "You sound like children arguing over scraps."
Anakin's jaw tightened, blue eyes narrowing in pure hatred. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." Sebastian's words were a blade, cold, deliberate and cutting. He moved to the holomap table, his massive shield scraping the floor as he unhooked it and set it down. The clang it made was like the closing of a tomb. "This operation is no longer yours to command. I am here now, and I will not squander time with half-measures and whining."
Ahsoka blinked, taken aback by the bluntness. Rex glanced between them, visibly uneasy.
Anakin bristled, taking a step forward. "You don't get to walk in here and—"
"Silence." The word cracked like a gunshot. Sebastian's helm tilted slightly, the red glow of his eyes locking onto Anakin. "Do not mistake my tolerance for indulgence, Jedi. I will not debate with children. You will listen, you will step aside, or you will die."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Even Anakin, hot-headed as he was, hesitated under the weight of Sebastian's sheer will.
Satisfied by the silence, the Black Templar continued. "We are not surgeons," he said, gesturing to the hologram with a gauntleted hand. "We are not here to pick and prod. My brother Maximus may be the scalpel, Raxor the flame, but I am the hammer. The hammer does not cut. It does not burn. It crushes."
He pointed to the heavy fortifications surrounding Zygerria's capital city. "We begin with orbital bombardments. Every gun, every battery, every fortified nest of vermin, they will be reduced to rubble before we ever set foot on the soil. When their walls burn and their morale breaks, we descend. We slaughter every Separatist and slaver who tries to shield themselves with innocents. Mercy has no place here for the wicked."
Anakin's hands balled into fists. "That's not how we fight wars. You'd kill thousands—"
"Enough!" Sebastian thundered, the very air shaking with his voice. "Do not prattle to me about restraint. Restraint is why you bleed. Restraint is why this war festers. Every moment you hesitate, the galaxy rots further. I will not let the cancer spread because a boy cannot harden his heart."
Ahsoka flinched at the word boy. Rex shifted his weight, uneasy, but said nothing.
Sebastian turned, raising a hand. "Jarek."
From the shadows at the doorway, Commander Jarek stepped forward. He carried a reinforced case, which he set with a heavy thunk onto the command table.
The latches clicked open. Inside, was a vial the size of a man's torso. Its contents shimmered with a sickly green luminescence, swirling like liquid poison. The room seemed to dim around it, as though the light recoiled from its presence.
Ahsoka's eyes widened. Rex leaned closer, his voice low with alarm. "What in blazes is that?"
Sebastian's gaze never left Anakin's face. "A weapon the Imperium has spent weeks preparing. A virus bomb. A single detonation can scour a hive city of every living creature in hours. No walls, no shields, few armies can withstand it."
Anakin's face paled. "You can't be serious."
"I am always serious," Sebastian growled. "This is the choice before you, Jedi. Either we unleash this bomb, or we commit to my assault. There is no third option. You will decide whether your conscience prefers a swift death, or fire and blood."
The room fell silent, the hum of the holo-projector the only sound. Anakin's fury burned in his eyes, but even he seemed at a loss for words. Ahsoka shifted uneasily, torn between fear and disbelief. Rex looked to his general for orders, but Anakin gave none.
Sebastian leaned forward, his shadow swallowing the holomap whole. "Now, boy," he said, each word a blade of iron, "what will it be?"
===
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