The sky over the Realm of the Storm didn’t just rain; it bled shadows. The ozone-heavy air hummed with the aftershocks of a battle that had defied the laws of their own universe.

Zilla’s knees hit the jagged stone as she watched the Mayor and the Witch recoil. The betrayal was absolute, but the cost was higher.

«Ventress!» Zilla’s scream was torn away by a sudden, violent gust of wind. She scrambled across the slick ground, reaching for the fallen assassin.

Nearby, the hiss of a lightsaber died out. Anakin Skywalker stood like a statue amidst the swirling mist, the blue glow fading as his hilt clicked onto his belt. He didn’t look back at the carnage.

«That’s what she gets,» he mumbled, his voice cold, a sharp contrast to the thunder rolling above. «For threatening my sister.»

Ahsoka—young, disoriented, and swaying on her feet—stumbled toward him. The haze of the Witch’s spell was still clearing from her mind.

«Skyguy?» she whispered, pressing a hand to her temple. «I’m… I’m awake now, too.»

Anakin’s expression softened for a fleeting second as he looked at her. «Good. It’s time for us to return to our own realm.»

«How?» Ahsoka asked, glancing at the darkening horizon where the storm seemed to be folding in on itself.

«It was all part of her plan.» Anakin lifted his gaze toward the wounded Ventress, a grim smirk touching his lips. «She knew all along how to get back. We just have to be ourselves. No more roles, no more spells. Just us.»

At the edge of the clearing, Zilla finally reached Ventress. As she extended a trembling hand, the assassin’s eyes snapped open, burning with yellow malice and redirected pain.

«Get lost!» Ventress snarled, her voice a jagged blade. She shoved Zilla back with a weak surge of the Force. «Don’t trick me into thinking you care!»

«But I do care!» Zilla shouted over a roar of thunder. She didn’t flinch. «I believe in you, Asajj. I know there’s still some good in your heart, even here in the dark.»

Ventress’s lip curled, but for the first time, her gaze wavered.

Anakin didn’t wait to see the outcome. He stepped to Ahsoka’s side, firmly placing an arm around his Padawan’s shoulder, anchoring her to the reality they belonged to.

«Let’s go,» he commanded.

The air began to shimmer—a rift of pure, white light cracking through the purple storm clouds. As they were pulled toward the breach, Ahsoka looked back one last time at the two figures huddled on the ground—the girl who refused to give up and the monster who didn’t know how to be saved.

«Will they be fine?» Ahsoka asked, her voice small.

Anakin watched the rift swallow the horizon, his eyes distant.

«Yes.»

With a deafening crack of lightning, the Realm of the Storm vanished, leaving nothing behind but the echo of a scream and the scent of ozone.