They were tucked away in a corner of a dim, humid forest-bar in Mystery—a place that smelled of damp moss and cheap synthetic ale, serving more as a grim cafeteria for weary travelers than a place of joy.

The holoscreen above the bar-desk crackled. The image of King Anakin Skywalker filled the frame, but the hero they once knew was gone. Shadows clung to the hollows of his face, and his eyes burned with a cold, predatory light.

“I have brought peace, justice, and security to my new kingdom!” his voice boomed through the rusted speakers, distorted and heavy. “When the galaxy hears my new name, they will fall and worship, for I am the Chosen One!”

Hagar and Isha exchanged a look of pure dread. Hagar’s skin crawled; the ghost of the slave chains she had once worn seemed to tighten around her wrists. She had promised to protect Isha from ever knowing that life, but the darkness on the screen felt like a net closing in.

“This is serious,” Isha murmured, her face pale. “That… that isn’t the Anakin who saved us from the pirates. That’s a monster.”

“Maybe we should go to him?” Hagar suggested, though her heart hammered against her ribs. “See if the man we knew is still in there? If he remembers us, maybe we’re safe.”

“Safe?” Isha whispered. “Hagar, look at his eyes. Is anyone safe from a god who demands worship?”

Before they could decide, the heavy thud of boots and a boisterous, drunken laugh echoed through the room. Hondo Ohnaka sauntered toward them, his tattered coat billowing. In his arms, he balanced little Abid, their three-year-old brother.

“Ah! My favorite customers!” Hondo bellowed, his golden tooth glinting in the low light. He flopped into a chair beside them with a theatrical sigh, slamming a flask of foul-smelling rum onto the table. “Nothing—and I mean nothing—can separate a pirate from his drink! It is a biological necessity!”

Isha quickly reached out and scooped Abid into her arms, clutching him tight. “We’re so sorry for leaving Abid with you, Hondo. We hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

Hondo threw his head back and roared with laughter, a sound that was a bit too loud, a bit too sharp. “Trouble? This boy is a natural! I’ve been teaching him the fine art of the ‘tactical acquisition’!”

“Arrgh!” Abid squealed, waving a tiny fist. “I’m a pirate! Hondo is the best!”

Hagar sighed, rubbing her temples. “He’s back with his sisters now, Hondo. We’ll take the weight off your shoulders. You don’t have to play babysitter anymore.”

Hondo’s laughter died down, but the grin remained—a wide, static thing that didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned back, kicking his boots up onto the table, right next to Hagar’s hand.

“Don’t bother yourselves, girls,” he said, his voice dropping into a silky, dangerous purr. “The lad is wonderfully fine with me. In fact… I think we’re all going to be spending a lot more time together.”

He took a slow, deliberate swig from his flask, watching them over the rim. The humor was still there, the jokes still ready on his tongue, but for the first time, Hagar noticed the way his crew was quietly moving to block the exits. The forest-bar suddenly felt very small, and the “Chosen One” on the screen wasn’t the only monster in the room.