Exegol
Lightning arced across the sulfur-choked skies of Exegol, casting jagged reflections on obsidian monoliths. Beneath the surface, in a cavernous vault lined with ancient Sith runes, Emperor Palpatine stood before an endless procession of black-armored warships.
Each of them bore the red insignia of the Final Order the hidden fleet that would outlive the Rebellion, the Jedi, and even the Empire itself.
"Accelerate production," he rasped to the robed Sith cultists at his feet. "Our enemies multiply in shadows, but their hope is an illusion."
Around him floated clone vats, dozens of them, each holding deformed bodies failed vessels, too weak to hold the fury of his spirit. One, more stable than the rest, drifted near the center. Twisted yet functional. A puppet with potential.
Snoke.
A creation of desperation and cunning. A mouthpiece for the First Order that would one day rise in the ashes of this age.
Behind Palpatine, a dark holoprojector ignited. A blue image appeared—regal, austere, cold-eyed.
Grand Admiral Thrawn.
"My Emperor," he said, bowing slightly. "The Rebellion strengthens on Lothal. I request authorization to end them… decisively."
Palpatine's withered face creased into a twisted smile. "You may proceed, Thrawn. Show them what art truly is."
Lothal: The Last Stand
In the Outer Rim, Lothal burned.
Thrawn's Seventh Fleet descended on the system with precision—ion bombardments, orbital strikes, planetary lockdowns. But the Rebels fought back harder than expected. A young Jedi—Ezra Bridger—led the resistance with cunning and unorthodox tactics.
Sabine Wren rallied the Mandalorians.
Zeb Orrelios and Kallus led raids behind enemy lines.
But Thrawn was relentless.
Until the unexpected happened.
The skies above Lothal shimmered. Massive, tentacled creatures—purrgil emerged from hyperspace. Creatures of myth, believed extinct.
Ezra stood aboard Thrawn's flagship, the Chimaera, his hands spread wide, controlling the Force with unnatural serenity.
"This ends with us, Grand Admiral," he said.
The purrgil latched onto the ship, coiling around its hull.
And then—flash.
In a single pulse of light, Ezra and Thrawn vanished into hyperspace, dragged into the Unknown Regions. The fleet gone. The battle ended.
Exegol: Rage and Calculations
The moment Thrawn disappeared, Palpatine sensed it.
Within the central chamber of Exegol, a blast of Force lightning reduced one of his acolytes to ash. The Emperor screamed, his fury shaking the stone.
"Bridger… you child…"
He paced the dark sanctum, face twisted with fury. First Maul had failed. Then the Jedi. Now Thrawn.
He turned toward the clone chamber. The newer subjects had stabilized. One in particular a younger clone, genetically enhanced could prove… promising.
He placed his hand upon the glass.
"I shall make my own Thrawn. My own Skywalker. And if I must, I will make my own gods."
Zereth Prime: Echoes of Madness
Far across the stars, Serion walked through the antimatter-lit halls of the Oblivion Citadel, deep in the core of Zereth Prime. His steps were heavy, his thoughts darker still.
Holoscreens flickered with data on Ezra's disappearance. Thrawn's loss. Imperial plans now thrown into chaos. Serion had seen the moment in fragments visions in the void.
He stood before the great table of the Seed's inner chamber.
For months, he had fought its will. The ancient cosmic entity that had guided his rebirth, empowered his ascent. But also… tried to control him.
Now he was no longer the Seed's puppet.
"I forge my path," Serion muttered, eyes burning. "Not as your champion, but as your judge."
He turned to the galaxy map. His eyes drifted to ancient coordinates. Ones that had no official records. Ones found only in Jedi legends and Sith tomes:
The Maw. The Maw Cluster. The Abyss.
At its center, sealed beyond thought, emotion, and time, lay something older than the Sith. Something the Jedi had buried in myth.
Abeloth.
The Search Begins
Aboard the Eclipse Voidspire, the crown jewel of the Oblivion fleet, Serion gathered his closest followers Spartan Commanders, Force adepts trained beyond Jedi and Sith, and AI hybrid intelligences drawn from every corner of the multiverse.
They would dive into the Maw.
He didn't seek to unleash Abeloth. No. He needed to understand her. To know how she had risen how a mortal had defied the Ones, become a being of cosmic scale and how she was sealed.
"If the Vong can kill the Force, she can teach me how to break it."
It was a plan only a madman would dare.
But Serion was not mad.
He was tired of being mortal.
Imperial Tensions and Rebellion
As the Rebellion celebrated Lothal's liberation, cracks in the Empire began to show.
Palpatine accelerated construction of the Death Star, fearing another loss.
He unleashed the remaining Inquisitors, now more ruthless than ever.
He began fortifying Exegol, using Sith cultists to mine kyber crystals from unknown systems, hiding entire fleets in nebulae cloaked by Sith alchemy.
But he could not stop the whispers.
"Where is Thrawn?"
"What happened to Lothal?"
"Who rules the Outer Rim now?"
The Force Shifts
On Mustafar, Anakin Skywalker meditated in silence, watching as his children Luke and Leia parred with twin crimson sabers.
They were strong now. Dangerous. But not broken.
Leia fought with grace and calculated aggression.
Luke was raw fury and instinct brilliant and unpredictable.
Anakin guided them, careful to steer them not toward corruption… but dominion.
"You will be what the Jedi feared. Not tools of the dark… but its masters."
But even he felt a change.
He turned his gaze to the stars.
Serion had moved.
And the galaxy would never be the same again.