“You have changed. Have you not?” Zilla asked, her voice trembling as she looked up at King Anakin. He stood before her in all his terrifying majesty—a figure of blinding light that felt far too perfect to be true.

“No, I have evolved,” he proclaimed. His voice was like crushed velvet as he draped a heavy arm around Queen Padmé.

“Evolved?”

“Yes. I am a father now.” He looked down at his children, Luke and Leia, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I see things more clearly. The world is simple when you know exactly what must be protected… and what must be destroyed.”

Zilla felt a sudden chill. Despite the King’s warm words, his fingers tightened around Padmé’s shoulder—a grip that looked less like affection and more like possession. Behind his back, his other hand clenched into a fist, as if he were already imagining how easily he could crush the life out of anyone who threatened his “perfect” family.

Deep beneath the earth, in the suffocating silence of the underground kingdom, Amanda sat sobbing. The darkness of the chamber was absolute, broken only by the rhythmic scraping of steel.

Queen Ventress, the wicked witch, was admiring her dagger. She ran her pale fingers over the engraving of her own name on the blade, her face twisted into a mask of false maternal love.

“My poor, sweet Amanda,” Ventress cooed, her voice dripping with sickly-sweet poison. “Why do you resist? I only want what is best for you. Together, we would be unstoppable. Two darkened souls with enchanted steel.”

At Amanda’s feet lay her heavy axe, the blade shimmering with a dark, cursed energy. It bore her name, a constant reminder of the violence she wanted to leave behind.

“I am done serving you!” Amanda cried out, her voice echoing off the cold stone walls. She looked at the axe, then back at the Queen. “This tool has no power over me! And neither do you!”

Ventress let out a low, wicked chuckle. she stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with a sick psychological hunger. “How well spoken. But we both know the truth, dearie. The only one who can free you is yourself—but you are far too weak to turn that key. That is why you will always be my prisoner.”

High in the mountain pass, Ahsoka fought for every breath. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird; every shadow was a threat, every gust of wind a scream. She was a warrior, but her spirit was jagged with anxiety and unhealed wounds.

“I need to get back to Mystery,” she told the man in the suit who had found her on the trail.

“Mystery?” he repeated, smoothing his lapels. “But why didn’t you say so? It’s right on the other side of the mountain!”

Ahsoka gripped the hilt of her weapon, her knuckles white. “Can you get me there? Safely?”

The man gave her a crooked, unsettling smile. “I could always try, dearie. But be warned… in Mystery, the brightest lights cast the deadliest shadows.”

Ahsoka looked toward the peak. She didn’t know which was worse: the honest evil of Ventress’s dungeons, or the beautiful lies waiting for her at King Anakin’s court.