The forest was a cathedral of rotting wood and shifting shadows. As the sun bled out, leaving the world in a bruised, violet twilight, Zilla moved through the undergrowth with a rhythmic, unsettling twitch in her step. Her mind was a fractured mirror, reflecting images of a past that hadn’t quite happened and a future that tasted like copper.

Then, she saw her.

Under the skeletal branches of a dying tree lay a figure, broken and still. Ahsoka.

“Ahsoka?” Zilla’s voice was a jagged rasp of pure, manic joy. She gripped the unconscious girl’s arm, her fingers digging into the skin with a strength that was far from healthy. “Ahsoka! Oh, finally! I found you!”

Zilla sat beside her twin, a wide, vacant smile plastered on her face. She didn’t notice the way Ahsoka’s breath hitched in terror even in sleep, or the scars that lined her sister’s arms—reminders of a “training” that felt more like a slaughter. As Zilla sat there, rocking back and forth, she eventually drifted into a shallow, feverish sleep.

When the gray morning light filtered through the canopy, Zilla woke to an empty patch of dirt. The panic hit her like a physical blow. She clawed at the earth, her eyes wide and bloodshot, her pupils blown wide with half-mad desperation.

“Ahsoka…?” she whispered, rubbing her eyes as the crushing weight of disappointment settled in. “Ahsoka!”

She didn’t stand up. She collapsed into herself, wrapping her arms around her knees, weeping with a sound that was more like a wounded animal than a girl. “Sister? Why did you leave when I just found you? Why?”

“But I didn’t leave, dearie.”

The voice came from the dark hollow of a nearby tree. A hooded figure stood there, arms crossed, looking more like a wraith than a woman. When the hood fell back, it revealed Ahsoka. But this wasn’t the sister Zilla remembered. Her eyes were sunken, darting around with the frenetic anxiety of a cornered prey.

“Sister!” Zilla scrambled to her feet, stumbling toward her. “We’re reunited! Aren’t you happy?”

Ahsoka stiffened, her body cold as stone. She pried Zilla’s grasping hands off her. “I’m glad, Zilla. But unlike you… I have learned to control my feelings. Or what’s left of them.”

“Just wait until Anakin sees you!” Zilla burst out, her voice rising to a shrill, hysterical pitch. “He will be so glad! Everything will be like it was before. Perfect.”

Ahsoka’s face went pale. The mention of the name seemed to dim the very sunlight around them. Anakin—the man who didn’t take no for an answer. The man who loved power more than people.

“I’m not going back to him,” Ahsoka said, her voice trembling with a deep-seated dread.

“What?” Zilla’s face twisted, her sanity fraying. “But you’re his Padawan! You belong at his side!”

“No.” Ahsoka turned away, her hand reaching for the braid between her horns. With a sharp, violent tug, she ripped the padawan-braid free. The sound of the hair snapping echoed like a bone breaking in the silent woods. She turned back, holding the braid out like a cursed object. “Will you hold onto this? I am done.”

“But the King! He’ll want to see you!” Zilla stared at the braid in her palm as if it were a severed finger.

“He must not know I’m here,” Ahsoka whispered, her voice thick with horror. “Go back, Zilla. Let me follow my own path. Please. Before he senses us.”

Zilla stepped closer, her eyes glittering with an unhealthy, obsessive light. “Why are you doing this, sis? Anakin has changed. He’s… evolved, as he calls it.”

“He’s a powersick manipulator,” Ahsoka spat, her hand drifting to the hilt of her lightsaber. “He doesn’t evolve, Zilla. He consumes. He’s toying with you. I need to protect my heart before I end up like him—cold and hollow.”

“But one last chance!” Zilla pleaded, thrusting the braid back toward her sister. “We’ll be Padawans together! He’ll train us both!”

“GO BACK!” Ahsoka’s scream shattered the morning quiet. “I don’t want to meet him! If you follow me, he’ll send his hunters. They’ll find me, and I’ll never be free again!”

Zilla looked down at her hands, her mind finally snapping. “Wherever you go, I’ll always be at your side,” she whispered, her voice devoid of emotion.

“No! Just go back! Go back to Anakin!”

As Ahsoka turned to run, a cold wind swept through the trees. The forest went deathly silent. They both felt it—the oppressive, heavy presence of a man who hates to lose. Somewhere in the distance, the shadows seemed to stretch toward them, as if the forest itself was working for the Master they both feared.