The warning came too late.
No scout. No flare.
Just absence.
Entire Aurex satellites—just… blinked out. No debris. No signal.
Toren stood in the uplink room when Kora said two words:
Dark entry.
Mira's face tightened.
Tarn's jaw locked.
They knew what that meant.
Vader-class assault was coming.
These weren't soldiers.
These were wraiths.
The sky didn't light up this time.
It went dark.
EMP charges detonated high above orbit—shutting down most Aurex systems for thirty seconds.
Thirty seconds.
That was enough.
Shadows moved through corridors.
Black armor. No insignia. No orders shouted—just silent, surgical killing.
Mira held the command floor with four others.
Toren went to the civic tower.
Tarn disappeared into smoke—leading a counter-assault squad through the underground passages.
This wasn't a war.
It was a cleansing.
And they refused.
He arrived during the worst hour.
His shuttle landed without resistance.
Because resistance was already dying.
Vader stepped through fire like it didn't touch him.
He didn't run.
Didn't even raise a weapon at first.
He just walked—
Until he found Toren at the Temple of Corelight.
The two stared at each other.
Toren didn't speak.
Vader tilted his head.
"You do not fear death."
Toren answered:
"I've already built something that outlives me."
A long pause.
Then Vader ignited his saber.
They fought.
Not like duelists.
Like opposites.
Toren used speed, wit, the Force's subtle bend.
Vader used gravity.
But Toren wasn't trying to win.
He was stalling.
Outside, the systems rebooted.
Kora re-initialized.
Halo satellites sparked back online.
Tarn's squad triggered the fallback ambush.
And Mira…
She found the main control feed—and sent the rebel signal wider than ever before.
Aurex was bleeding.
But it was broadcasting.
When Toren finally fell to one knee, chest heaving, Vader raised his saber.
And Toren whispered:
"Now… they know."