The slums of Kal’Sarha were a far cry from the gleaming spires and opulent estates perched high above in the capital. Down here, the air was thick with grime and desperation. The streets were narrow, littered with scraps of metal, broken droids, and refuse from the higher levels. Rusted pipes ran overhead, dripping stagnant water into muddy puddles that never seemed to dry. In the distance, the low hum of the city’s industrial heart provided a constant backdrop of noise, punctuated occasionally by the harsh cough of a distant engine or the shout of a merchant hawking his wares.

  The people here moved like shadows—faces hidden beneath ragged hoods, eyes darting suspiciously, bodies hunched and hurried. No one lingered in the open for long. In these streets, trust was a luxury no one could afford.

  Through this labyrinth of dirt and decay, a group of six figures made their way toward an unassuming warehouse tucked between two collapsing buildings. The door to the warehouse was marked with graffiti, but behind it, the true heart of the Rebellion beat in secret.

  Inside, the atmosphere was tense. Six rebels were gathered around a makeshift table constructed from stacked crates. Maps, data slates, and stolen Imperial blueprints were spread out in front of them. A single dim light flickered above, casting long shadows that danced on the walls like specters of what was to come.

  But it wasn’t just rebels who were gathered here tonight. Among them stood three Jedi.

  One was a young human boy, tall and gangly, with a mop of messy brown hair that flopped over his eyes. He was constantly fidgeting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as though he couldn’t keep still, though a lightsaber hung confidently at his side.

  The second Jedi was a girl, shorter than the boy, with sandy blonde hair that was braided and wrapped into a bun. Her robes were frayed at the edges, and her wide, blue eyes had an air of absent-mindedness about them. She toyed with the edge of her sleeve, seemingly unaware of the tension that gripped the others in the room.

  But it was the third Jedi who commanded the most attention.

  Adri’anna.

  She stood slightly apart from the others, her presence both serene and powerful, like the calm before a storm. Her hair, long and pure white, cascaded down her back like a waterfall of silk. It caught the dim light in the room, giving her an ethereal glow, as if she were something more than human, something born of the Force itself. Her skin was a rich, deep brown, a contrast that made the white of her hair and her eyes even more striking.

  And those eyes. They were completely white, devoid of color, yet filled with a depth and intensity that seemed to pierce through the very air. They glowed softly in the dim light, giving her an otherworldly aura that made even the most hardened rebel pause in her presence.

  Her Jedi robes were tattered, torn in places from countless battles fought against the Empire. The fabric clung to her slender arms, her narrow shoulders, but flared slightly around her hips, hinting at the strength of her form. Her lower body was fuller, more curvaceous than one might expect from a warrior, the fabric of her robes hugging her large figure with a graceful ease that belied the power she carried within her.

  She was beautiful, yes, but there was a hardness to her beauty—an edge that spoke of battles fought and lives lost. Her lips, full and soft, were pressed into a tight line, betraying the weight of the mission they were about to undertake.

  Adri’anna’s hand rested lightly on the hilt of her lightsaber, her thumb absently tracing the smooth metal as she listened intently to the conversation unfolding around the table. Her expression was calm, but there was a fire behind her white eyes—a fire that had been ignited long ago when the Empire first began its purge of the Jedi.

  "We’ve scouted the perimeter of the senator’s villa," one of the rebels said, his voice low and grim. "It’s heavily guarded, as expected. We’ll need to take out the guards stationed at the north gate before we can move on to the villa itself."

  The young Jedi boy, still fidgeting, spoke up. "We should disable the security systems first. If we don’t, the moment we step foot on the property, we’ll be blasted to pieces before we even reach the gate."

  The rebel nodded in agreement, tapping on one of the datapads to bring up the schematics of the villa. "There’s a power conduit running along the east wall. If we can sever the connection, it should take the security systems offline long enough for us to get through. We’ll need someone fast to handle that."

  The boy grinned, flashing a cocky smile. "Leave it to me. I’ll be in and out before they even know what hit them."

  The others in the room exchanged grim looks, the gravity of the situation sinking in. This was a life-or-death mission, and they all knew it. But before the tension could thicken any further, the boy piped up again.

  "Come on," he said, nudging the blonde Jedi girl beside him. "What’s a little risk? We’ve survived worse. Remember that time on Telok? When you got us stuck in the cargo hold with those angry Vratix traders? They were ready to gut us until—"

  Adri’anna’s voice cut through the room, soft but firm. "This isn’t the time for jokes, Harro."

  The boy—Harro—fell silent immediately, though the grin didn’t entirely fade from his face.

  Adri’anna stepped closer to the table, her white eyes scanning the maps with calm precision. "This is life or death," she continued, her voice carrying a quiet authority. "The Empire won’t give us a second chance if we fail. The Emperors’ Hand is on this planet—actively searching for us. We’re up against one of the Empire’s most dangerous agents, and we don’t know who she is or where she’ll strike next."

  The blonde Jedi girl, still toying with the sleeve of her robe, looked up. "You’re talking about... the Emperor’s Hand? Do you think... she knows we’re here?"

  Adri’anna’s gaze shifted toward her, and though her expression remained calm, there was a glimmer of concern in her eyes. "We don’t know. But if she’s as powerful as the stories say, she will. Soon."

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  The room fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of Adri’anna’s words settling over them like a shroud. Even Harro, usually the joker, seemed to lose some of his playfulness.

  One of the rebels, a grizzled man with a thick beard, slammed his fist on the table, shattering the tension. "Then we don’t have time to waste! We need to move now."

  Another rebel, a younger woman, nodded in agreement. "We’re ready. We’ve prepared for this."

  Adri’anna’s expression softened, her serious demeanor giving way to a brief flicker of compassion. "We’ll get through this," she said, her voice gentler now. "But we need to be smart. We’re not just fighting for ourselves. We’re fighting for everyone suffering under the Empire’s rule."

  The group exchanged nods, their resolve hardening. Harro, despite his earlier levity, leaned forward, his expression more serious now. "Alright then. Let’s go over it one more time."

  The next half hour was spent meticulously reviewing their strategy. Every detail was examined—every entry point, every patrol route, every possible contingency. There was no room for error.

  When they finished, Harro leaned back, a grin spreading across his face once again. "We’ve got this," he said, his confidence returning. "I mean, if we can survive Telok, we can survive this, right?"

  The others laughed softly, the tension easing ever so slightly. But Adri’anna didn’t smile. She stared at the map, her mind focused on the mission ahead.

  "We have no choice but to succeed," she said quietly. "There’s too much at stake."

  As the group stood, readying themselves for the task ahead, Adri’anna placed a hand on Harro’s shoulder. "Just... be careful, alright?"

  Harro gave her a crooked smile. "Always."

  Night had fallen, and the forest surrounding the senator’s villa was cloaked in darkness. The thick trees loomed overhead, their branches twisting like skeletal fingers reaching for the sky. The air was cool, filled with the sounds of distant animals and the rustle of leaves in the wind.

  Adri’anna led the group through the dense underbrush, her senses alert, her white eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. They moved in silence, the rebels fanning out behind her, each one focused on the mission at hand.

  The villa loomed in the distance, its walls high and imposing, the faint glow of lights visible through the thick trees. They were close now.

  As they neared the edge of the forest, Adri’anna suddenly stopped, her hand flying to her head as a sharp pain shot through her mind. She winced, her vision blurring for a moment, the world around her tilting slightly.

  "Adri’anna?" Harro’s voice was quiet, concerned. "Are you alright?"

  She took a deep breath, shaking her head as the pain subsided. "I’m fine," she said quickly, though her voice wavered slightly. "Let’s keep moving."

  The others exchanged worried glances, but they didn’t press her. They all knew what was at stake, and there was no time for hesitation.

  As they approached the villa’s perimeter, the group split off into two teams. The rebels would handle the guards and the main gate, while the Jedi would lure the Emperor’s Hand away from the villa, drawing her attention long enough for the rebels to carry out their true objective.

  Adri’anna watched the rebels move into position, her heart pounding in her chest. The pain in her head lingered, dull but persistent, as though something—or someone—was pressing against the edges of her mind.

  Stay focused, she told herself. You have a job to do.

  Inside the senator’s villa, the air was warm and humid, the sound of trickling water filling the space. The bathing chambers were dimly lit, steam rising from the surface of the water and curling into the air like tendrils of mist.

  Cassandra sat in the bath, her body submerged in the warm water, her short black hair damp and clinging to her head. Her skin, pale and smooth, glistened under the soft light, the water rippling gently around her as she leaned back against the edge of the bath, her eyes half-closed in quiet contemplation.

  Na’la knelt nearby, her hands trembling slightly as she dipped a cloth into the water, squeezing it gently before running it over Cassandra’s shoulders and back. The silence between them was heavy, filled only by the soft splash of water and the faint hum of distant thoughts.

  Na’la’s eyes lingered on her boss’s body—on the scars that marked her skin, faint but visible against the pale canvas of her flesh. There was a long scar running down her side, a reminder of a battle fought long ago. Another scar, jagged and rough, crossed her lower back. Each mark told a story, and Na’la found herself entranced by them, by the way her mistress's body, despite its beauty, bore the weight of so much violence.

  How can someone so young be so ruthless? Na’la wondered, her heart fluttering as her gaze moved to Cassandra’s face. She was still so young—a woman who had seen and done things that would haunt most people for a lifetime. And yet here she was, calm, controlled, as if none of it touched her.

  Na’la’s cheeks flushed slightly as she continued to wash Cassandra’s back, her eyes drawn to the curve of her mistress's waist, the smooth lines of her body that gave way to the strength hidden beneath. There was something about Cassandra—something that drew Na’la in, even as she feared her.

  Cassandra’s voice broke the silence, soft but commanding. "You’re staring, Na’la."

  Na’la jolted, her cheeks burning as she quickly averted her gaze. "I-I’m sorry, my Lady," she stammered, her hands trembling slightly as she wrung the cloth in her hands. "I didn’t mean to—"

  "Relax," Cassandra said, her tone almost amused, though there was a sharpness to it that reminded Na’la of her place. "You’ve been with me long enough to know I don’t tolerate fear."

  Na’la swallowed hard, nodding quickly. "Yes, my Lady. Of course."

  Cassandra turned her head slightly, her reddish orange eyes locking onto Na’la’s, pinning her in place. "You’ve been quiet lately," she said, her voice low, almost thoughtful. "Is something troubling you?"

  Na’la hesitated, her hands still submerged in the water. She could feel the weight of Cassandra’s gaze, the intensity of her presence, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure how to answer. But then she shook her head, forcing herself to speak. "No, my Lady. I’m fine. I just..."

  She trailed off, uncertain how to put her feelings into words. How could she explain the way her heart raced whenever she was near Cassandra? How could she admit that her admiration for her mistress's had grown into something deeper, something more dangerous?

  Cassandra’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if sensing Na’la’s hesitation. But before she could speak, the air in the room shifted.

  Cassandra’s body tensed, her eyes snapping toward the door as she felt a disturbance ripple through the Force.

  "Someone’s here," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

  Na’la blinked, startled by the sudden shift in Cassandra’s demeanor. "My Lady?"

  Cassandra stood up abruptly, water cascading down her body as she moved with swift, fluid grace. Na’la quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks burning once again as she fumbled with the towel, trying not to look as her mistress's stepped out of the bath.

  "Get dressed," Cassandra ordered, her voice cold and sharp. "The fight is here."

  Na’la scrambled to obey, her heart pounding in her chest as she grabbed her robes. The warmth of the bathing chambers was quickly replaced by a growing sense of dread. Whoever had come for them were no mere rebels.

  As Cassandra dressed, her mind was already racing, her senses heightened. She could feel it now—the presence of the Jedi. They were close.

  Very close.