Aurex burned, but it did not break.
The moment Vader advanced on Toren, the civic vault detonated its escape protocol—a series of collapsible tunnels rerouted Mira, Tarn, and hundreds of civilians into deep underground chambers, shielded from even the most sophisticated scans.
Toren's body was dragged from the Temple of Corelight by Tarn's evac unit in a blur of smoke, sabotage, and misdirection. Vader's saber never touched him again.
Because he was already gone.
And Aurex… was empty.
For now.
Mira, leading the survivors through tunnels that stretched toward the mountain roots, never stopped moving.
She gave orders. Distributed rations. Kept spirits up.
But never once did she speak Toren's name.
Not until Tarn pulled her aside, breathless, hand bloodied.
"He's alive. But… fading."
Mira didn't cry.
She knelt beside Toren's unconscious form—scars burned, aura flickering.
"Don't go," she whispered.
And as if the Force heard her, his fingers twitched.
She stood.
To the others, she shouted:
"We're not done."
Across the Rim, Aurex's signal reached worlds no one expected.
In a cantina on Sullust, a slicer wept when she saw the footage.
On Mon Cala, an admiral watched the signal loop ten times, then ordered silent mobilization.
And on Alderaan—
Bail Organa stood in his war room.
He turned to Mon Mothma and said:
"Aurex made them bleed. We must protect them."
The Rebellion began to tilt.
Because Aurex had proven it could be done.
Toren awoke three days later, in a chamber beneath the southern glacial shelf.
He couldn't speak yet.
But Mira was there.
She held his hand.
And when his eyes met hers—
She said only:
"They haven't won."