In the realm of forgotten memories, the air felt heavy with unspoken truths. Zilla had been toiling at the grease-stained diner for days, her eyes constantly scanning for the promised reward: Ventress and the lightsaber.

The bell above the door chimed. Lars and Ahsla entered, their presence cutting through the mundane chatter of the guests. They settled at a table, snapping open their menus. Zilla watched them like a hawk, her movements clinical as she wiped down nearby tables, masking her scrutiny behind a veil of service.

When they finally closed the menus, Zilla pounced. She approached with a notepad and pen, her voice a practiced customer-service lilt.

“Hi. Can I take your order, please?”

Lars looked up, his brow furrowing into a deep scowl. “You again?” He crossed his arms, leaning back. “Don’t you have anything better to do than barge into people’s lives?”

“Lars!” Ahsla snapped, her eyes wide with embarrassment. “You’re being rude on purpose!”

“Maybe,” Lars muttered, his gaze hardening. “But she needs to hear it.”

Zilla felt a surge of frustration. “I’m just trying to be nice. Now, are you going to order or not?”

With a heavy sigh, Lars gave in. “Two burgers. Please.”

“Noted,” Zilla clipped. She turned on her heel and strode to the kitchen. “Two burgers for table nine!” she shouted to the chef.

She spent the next few minutes prepping vegetables, her mind racing. Suddenly, the chef’s bell rang. “Order up! Table nine!”

Zilla grabbed the plates, the heat of the ceramic burning through her gloves. She set them down before Lars with a sharp clatter. “Here you go.”

Lars narrowed his eyes. “I hope you’re enjoying your day,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t realize you worked here now.”

Zilla straightened her back, her chin high. “I do. But you should be careful how you talk to a waitress. You might find your food is… extra hot today.”

“What?”

“Enjoy. Goodbye.” She left him gaping and retreated to the kitchen.

As the shift ended and the light began to fail, the door opened again. It wasn’t a customer. Asajj Ventress stood in the center of the diner, her presence commanding and cold.

Zilla’s heart hammered. She’s looking for me.

Ventress smiled, a thin, dangerous line. “Job done. Here is the lightsaber.”

Zilla took the hilt, its cold metal heavy in her hand. She mumbled a thank you and slid it up her sleeve.

“You can go home now,” Ventress said, her voice silk. “If you even have a home?”

“Of course I do,” Zilla lied, pride stinging. “Under the toll-bridge by the station.”

“Adieu, Zilla,” Ventress whispered. “Until we meet again.”

Night had fallen, and a biting frost gripped the air. Zilla hurried through the dark streets toward the house she had been watching. She clutched the lightsaber hilt, her knuckles white. Time to get your memory back, Skyguy.

She reached the door and pressed the bell. It rang with a haunting, melodic chime. The door swung open, and Lars stood there, silhouetted against the warm light of a life he didn’t belong to.

“What do you want?” he barked.

“I came to give you this,” Zilla said, her voice trembling. She held out the hilt. “It’s yours. It will help you remember.”

“Remember what?” He snatched the metal tube from her, his movements aggressive. “What, Zilla? What?”

Zilla watched his eyes, searching for a spark, a flicker of recognition. Nothing. Just the dull confusion of a man named Lars.

“I… I don’t understand,” she whispered, tears of frustration blurring her vision. “It was supposed to work.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ventress… she tricked me…”

“What does the Mayor have to do with any of this?”

“I’m sorry,” Zilla sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Anakin…”

“That’s not my name, kid!”

Ahsla appeared in the doorway, her face pale. “What’s going on? Sister!”

“She was just leaving,” Lars growled, stepping forward. “I’m warning you: don’t come back here.”

“But Anakin, please! You have to remember!”

“That’s enough!” Lars shoved the lightsaber back into her chest. “This? This is just a piece of junk!”

“It is your life!” Zilla screamed.

“Stop!” Ahsla cried out, running toward them. “Zilla, stop. Please. Just leave us alone.”

Lars turned his back on her. “Come on, Ahsla. Let’s go.”

But halfway to the door, Lars stopped dead. His body seized. He collapsed to his knees, his head snapping back. His eyes rolled into his head until only the terrifying, stark white of the sclera remained.

“Lars!” Ahsla screamed. She spun on Zilla, her face twisted in a mask of fury. “What did you do to him?”

Terrified, Zilla backed away into the shadows. She turned and bolted into the night, the sound of Ahsla’s screams echoing behind her. “I promise you, Zilla! You will pay for this!”

On the porch, Ahsla grabbed her brother’s shoulders, shaking him. “Look at me, Lars! Please!”

Lars exhaled a long, shuddering breath. Slowly, his eyes rolled back down. They were no longer dull. A sharp, piercing blue light seemed to burn within them—a gaze that had seen a thousand wars.

He tilted his head, looking at the girl in front of him with a haunting familiarity.

“Ahsoka?” he whispered.

Ahsla’s breath hitched, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What?”