A Fragile Peace
The galaxy held its breath.
The great fleet battle at Daro had ended without a victor, but its shockwaves rippled across the stars. The Outer Rim grew restless. Hyperspace lanes became dangerous corridors of conflict. Systems once loyal to the Empire began to whisper of rebellion.
But no one knew where to point the blame. The Empire blamed pirates. The Rebels blamed corruption.
Only a few understood the truth: Serion was fanning the flames.
In the dark of Zereth Prime's forge-worlds, construction continued—faster, bolder.
The Oblivion-class dreadnoughts, fusion-tech monstrosities powered by crushed singularities, were growing in number. Silent, angular, terrifying to behold, they were not merely ships—they were symbols of Serion's new galactic order.
Palpatine's Calculations
On Coruscant, the Emperor's tower rose higher.
Deep beneath its base, factories burned day and night. Star Destroyers, planetary siege weapons, and dark-side weapons powered by kyber crystals were being mass-produced.
Palpatine's voice echoed in secret chambers.
"Let the Outer Rim burn. Let the Rebellion grow… they will only drive my Empire toward perfection."
But even he felt the shift. Serion was no longer hiding. The battle at Daro had made it clear—Zereth Prime was a superpower unto itself.
And worse…
Three Inquisitors had been killed.
The Inquisitor Hunt
The wind howled across the ruined world of Moriband. Lightning flashed across blood-red skies.
Serion stood alone amid broken stone pillars. At his feet—three Inquisitors, lifeless. Their weapons shattered. Their faces frozen in disbelief.
Only two others remained, retreating into the shadows, carrying their failure back to their master.
"Tell Palpatine," Serion said into the wind, "that I no longer recognize his dominion over the Force."
The Age of Rebellion Begins
Across the galaxy, whispers turned to action.
Ezra Bridger unlocked hidden temples.
Hera Syndulla led daring raids against Imperial convoys.
Sabine Wren rallied Mandalorian clans with ancient relics.
And through it all—Serion's hand guided them.
Disguised tech, hidden supply caches, encrypted coordinates… The Rebels never questioned how they gained the upper hand. They never knew Serion walked among them in shadows, disguised as traders, spies, and mechanics.
He didn't need their loyalty.
Only their resistance.
Twins of the Dark
On Mustafar, within a shadow citadel hidden from all scanners, Anakin Skywalker trained his children.
Luke and Leia—no longer innocent—stood tall, lightsabers ignited, eyes glowing faintly with dark fire. But it was not blind power they were taught.
Anakin whispered to them:
"You do not serve the Dark Side. You master it. Let it serve you."
He taught them control. Passion, not wrath. Ambition, not destruction.
Palpatine watched from afar. He was pleased… and wary.
"Skywalker's children will be weapons," he murmured. "Or they will be broken."
The Death Star Secret
Within the Ghost crew's hidden base, a discovery rocked the core of the Rebellion.
Captured intelligence revealed schematics—faint, encrypted, horrifying. A moon-sized station. A weapon capable of destroying entire planets.
"The Death Star," Kanan Jarrus said, voice grim.
"If it's real," Hera added, "then we're already running out of time."
Sabine cracked the file further. "It's still under construction. Location: unknown."
But for the first time, the Rebellion realized what they were up against.
They were no longer resisting tyranny.
They were trying to stop the end of the galaxy.
Serion Watches
Back on Zereth Prime, Serion stood at the viewport of the Eclipse Voidspire, his flagship cloaked in null-energy fields. He watched the stars shift.
The Death Star. The Rebellion. The Empire.
All threads in a web he had seen once before—in another life. In a ruined timeline.
But now… he would dictate its course.
"The Vong approach. The balance shatters. The Force itself rots under the weight of war."
"Let them all rise. And fall.