=== Palpatine ===
Palpatine stood at the forward viewport, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked at the battlefield below as he was barely able to control the Force that had exploded only moments before. The flickering crimson of the explosions painted his face in ghostly hues as he trembled slightly until finally, he was able to get himself under control. His eyes watched as the last of the daemon were torn apart under the relentless alliance between Republic and Imperium forces. The end of the battle was near.
Around him, the bridge crew worked feverishly. Clones and officers moved around, calling out orders, adjusting firing patterns, tracking survivors. And in the center of it all stood Tarkin. He was every bit the commander Palpatine had hoped he would be.
"Commander Voss reports the surface battle is ending, sir," Tarkin said, turning sharply. "Our… allies… have cleansed the field. The last of the abominations are being killed."
Palpatine inclined his head, the faintest of smiles touching his lips.
"Excellent, Admiral Tarkin. You have served the Republic well this day."
Tarkin straightened even further, pride gleaming faintly in his eyes.
"Thank you, Chancellor. The men fought bravely. The clones—"
"—fought as they were designed to," Palpatine interrupted softly, his voice slick as oil. "But you, my dear Tarkin… you led them. You commanded them. That is something that cannot be taught. You have a natural talent for this."
The words sank deep into the younger man's mind. Tarkin's jaw tightened with restrained satisfaction, and he bowed slightly.
"You honor me, sir."
Palpatine turned then, his gaze moving from the viewport to meet Tarkin's eyes directly. For an instant, just an instant, there was something behind the Chancellor's measured calm, something ancient and unfathomably dark.
"I see a bright future for you, Admiral. A future of… order. Of stability. One the galaxy will soon need."
He let the words linger, heavy with implication.
Then he turned back to the viewport, clasping his hands once more behind his back. "Continue the cleanup. Secure the orbit. See that the wounded are treated and the dead are honored."
"Yes, Chancellor."
Palpatine gave one last nod and strode from the bridge.
When the heavy doors of his private chamber sealed behind him, the mask fell.
He exhaled slowly, lowering himself into the high, throne-like chair at the room's center. His posture relaxed, and the shadows seemed to bend toward him, drawn as if by gravity. His fingers came together, steepled before his face, and for the first time since the battle had begun, he allowed the grin that had been clawing at the edges of his restraint to spread across his lips.
He could still feel it, the violent ripple in the Force that had cascaded across the galaxy minutes ago. The brilliant light that was Yoda… extinguished.
Palpatine closed his eyes, drinking in the sensation.
The Jedi Grand Master was gone. The Balance had shifted.
In the echoing silence of the Force, he could feel the galaxy reorienting itself again, the countless threads of destiny twisting toward him like rivers feeding into an ocean. Abeloth banished, the warp closed, the Chaos incursion repelled… and yet the greatest victory this day was not the Republic's.
It was his.
A low, satisfied chuckle escaped his throat as he leaned back, letting the dark side pulse gently through his veins, as natural and familiar as his own heartbeat.
His reflection stared back at him on the polished surface of the table, a face calm, dignified, and utterly in control.
"The Republic will burn," he said softly, almost tenderly. "And from its ashes… an Empire shall rise."
He activated the holoprojector before him, and a massive figure flickered into view, a giant of a man resting upon a stone slab.
Vulkan lay in what he believed was eternal stillness, his titanic form motionless, bathed in the dim light of Tython's ancient temple. Even in death, the Primarch radiated strength, a sleeping god forged of flesh and fire.
Palpatine's smile deepened, cold and serpentine.
His agents would recover the body soon enough. From there, it would be moved to a secure location, somewhere far from prying eyes, where his true work could begin.
He folded his hands beneath his chin, the light of the hologram casting long shadows across his face.
He smiled evilly at what he was about to do.
Then a sharp tone broke the stillness.
He turned slightly, and a red glyph flashed upon one of the holoscreens. A coded transmission.
Only his agents knew this channel.
Palpatine waved a hand, and the screen flared to life, a hooded figure appeared, kneeling. The hologram flickered in deep crimson.
"Report," Palpatine said softly, his voice smooth and even.
The hooded agent bowed lower. "My lord," came the distorted reply. "The operation was successful. Sifo-Dyas and Yaddle have been captured. Both are in containment, alive, as ordered."
Palpatine's smile deepened, his yellow eyes glinting faintly in the holographic light. "Excellent," he murmured. "Were there… complications?"
"None, my lord."
He leaned back, exhaling a quiet, satisfied breath. "Good. Very good."
For a long moment, he said nothing. Only the hum of the ship and the faint flicker of the hologram filled the room.
"Prepare them," he said softly.
The agent bowed. "Yes, my lord." The transmission cut off.
The room fell silent once more.
Palpatine reclined in his chair, a faint smirk curling his lips. The pieces were moving exactly as he intended.
"Everything… is proceeding as I have foreseen."
=== Obi-Wan ===
Obi-Wan exhaled shakily, drawing his brass blade from the chest of a daemon that still twitched on the ground. Its blood, if it could even be called that, hissed against the metal, steaming and smoking as it ate through the soil. The battle was over, though the land still trembled with echoes of carnage. The sky, once torn apart by rifts and storms of warp-fire, now hung dim and fractured, streaked with fading crimson light.
Anakin stood beside him, chest heaving, his armor scorched and torn. He turned to his friend as Obi-Wan lowered the blood-slick brass sword, the unnatural weapon catching the dying light of Mortis' burning sky.
"Why that blade?" Anakin asked, his voice low. "You've carried it since the mid-battle."
Obi-Wan glanced down at the jagged weapon, running a thumb along the rough edge. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "It just… felt right."
He frowned, feeling a faint pounding in his head. For a heartbeat, he saw flashes of memories. A battlefield. A giant. A figure clad in green armor smiling at him across a fire.
Then it was gone.
He pressed a hand to his temple and forced a small, tired smile. "Perhaps I've just seen too much blood today."
Anakin gave him a look, half concern, half disbelief, but said nothing. He only nodded, gazing out across the ruined battlefield. The plains were littered with corpses. Daemon, Clone, Mandalorian, Astartes, Jedi. Columns of smoke drifted from the wrecks of tanks and dropships. The once-unending tide of monsters had fallen still.
A shadow passed over them.
Maximus descended first, his armor cracked and scorched, Thunderhammer in hand, blue energy still humming faintly from its head. Behind him came Sebastian, his massive form radiant in blackened, newly reforged Terminator plate, the Darksaber clipped to his hip. The four Grey Knights followed, silver-armored giants of psychic fury, their halberds darkened by daemon blood.
The ground seemed to shake as the Space Marines approached.
"You fought well, Jedi," Maximus said, his voice carrying like thunder even through his damaged helm. His tone was calm, respectful even, but heavy.
Anakin turned, his eyes narrowing slightly at the towering figures before him. "I saw her kill him," he said, pointing toward Sebastian. "That… thing. She ran you through. You were dead."
The Black Templar slammed his armored fist against his breastplate, the sound echoing like thunder.
"I was dead," he said simply. His vox-grill distorted the words into a growl of iron and fury. "But The Emperor of Mankind saw fit to return me to the living. To fight once more in His name."
His tone was calm and reverent, but beneath it lay a terrible conviction, the kind of faith that could move worlds… or burn them.
Obi-Wan's eyes flicked to Anakin, whose jaw tightened. The boy's temper was rising again.
"Your God Emperor," Anakin muttered under his breath. "You speak as if He were some—"
"Careful, boy." Sebastian's head turned sharply, the red lenses of his helmet locking on Anakin. "You stand before a servant of the Master of Mankind. Choose your next words wisely."
Maximus raised a gauntlet, silently cautioning his brother, but Sebastian's tone only deepened.
"The green creature, your 'Grandmaster', gave his life for a noble cause," Sebastian said with a dismissive tilt of his helm. "A worthy death for one so small. The little goblin has earned his place in whatever afterlife he believed in."
Anakin's teeth clenched. His hands curled into fists. "You watch your tongue."
Sebastian tilted his head, almost amused. "Do you intend to make me?"
Anakin's hand moved to his lightsaber hilt, the hum of restrained fury rising off him like heat.
Obi-Wan's arm shot out, catching him across the chest. "Anakin, don't."
But Sebastian was already stepping forward, the ground cracking under his armored boots. His right hand dropped, hovering above the Darksaber.
"Draw it," he said slowly, his vox-grill warping the words into a challenge that felt more like a growl. "I am tired of your insolence, whelp. Do it, and I'll teach you what discipline truly means."
The air grew heavy with tension at that moment.
The clones nearby hesitated in their movements, watching from a distance as the Jedi and the resurrected Black Templar squared off.
Anakin's breathing was sharp, his fury barely held in check. Obi-Wan placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a faint shake of his head.
"Let it go, Anakin," he murmured softly. "We've all lost much today. Don't make us lose more."
Maximus turned his gaze toward them, his eyes unreadable behind his helm. "Your Grandmaster's sacrifice closed the breach," he said. "Honor him. Tend to your wounded. We will see to the rest."
Sebastian gave a final glance toward Anakin, the faintest hint of a smirk in his tone as he muttered, "Train your temper, Jedi. It'll be the death of you."
Then the Astartes turned, their massive forms striding through the wreckage, smoke curling around their feet.
Anakin watched them go, his fists still clenched, his knuckles white before releasing them.
"I can't stand them." He said, turning back to Obi-Wan.
The older Jedi didn't answer, but began to look around. "Where's Ahsoka?"
=== Nira ===
Soft light filtered through the haze of the med-bay, sterile and muted, a far cry from the apocalyptic fury of the battlefield she remembered last. The rhythmic hum of the ship's reactors pulsed faintly beneath her. For a moment, Nira lay still, her mind adrift in a fog between dreams and memory. Then came the deep ache, soul-weary, as though every nerve had been wrung dry of strength.
Her eyes fluttered open.
The room around her was vast, medical purity wrapped in gothic metal. Incense burners smoldered faintly on altars set into the walls, their smoke curling in thin silver wisps. The scent was comforting, a mark of the Imperium's reverence even for recovery.
A towering figure stood motionless at her bedside, encased in Terminator armor bearing the Ultramarine's sigil. His helm turned slightly as her eyes opened.
"Lady Regent," the deep, mechanical voice resonated from within the helm. "You are awake."
Nira drew a slow breath, pushing herself gingerly upright, wincing as her arms trembled under her own weight. Even that small effort sent a wave of exhaustion through her limbs. She blinked, steadying herself on the edge of the medical slab.
"What… happened?" Her voice was faint, hoarse, as though she hadn't spoken in days.
The guard inclined his head slightly. "The battle is over," he said. "The Archenemy has been driven back into the Warp. The rifts have been sealed. The Imperium stands victorious."
For a long moment, Nira simply stared at the ceiling, her mind struggling to process the enormity of those words. The Warp… sealed. After all the death, all the sacrifice, they had done it. She let out a quiet exhale, relief washing through her body like cool water.
"...I see," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "It's finally over."
"Not over, Lady Regent," the Terminator corrected softly. "Merely survived. But for now, there is peace."
Nira gave a faint nod and sank back against the slab, closing her eyes.
She spoke inwardly, her thoughts reaching out across the faint tether she could still feel.
"Sanguinius…"
A soft warmth answered her.
"I am here, little one."
Her lips parted as the voice of the angel filled her mind, radiant yet weary.
"What happened… after?" she asked quietly. "After I passed out?"
There was a pause. Then his voice came.
"You overreached, Nira. The power you invoked, the harmony between the Warp and the Force, it is not meant for mortal souls to bear. The strain upon you was… immense. You were fortunate not to have been consumed. I'm sorry I pushed you so much."
She swallowed, the words sinking deep. "I didn't realize… how much it would take," she murmured. "It felt as if everything was slipping through my fingers. I just—"
"—sought to do your part. I know." His tone softened, tinged with pride and sorrow in equal measure. "But hear me now, Nira. You must never attempt that again. The toll it takes upon your soul is too great."
Her throat tightened, guilt pressing at her chest. "So I nearly died."
He paused. "Yes."
The word cut her deeply. Nira's gaze fell to her trembling hands, pale, almost luminous under the med-bay's light. She could still feel it, faintly, the residue of that impossible moment when the Force and Warp had fused within her, singing like twin stars about to collapse.
She gave a small nod, forcing a weak smile. "I understand."
"Good." Sanguinius' tone eased again, the sharpness fading. "Now rest. You have done enough. There are others who will carry your burdens for a time."
Nira exhaled slowly, nodding once more before whispering aloud, "Where are the others? Maximus, Sebastian, Raxor… and the Jedi? What happened to Anakin and Ahsoka?"
The warmth of Sanguinius' presence pulsed faintly as his answer came.
"After the rifts closed, they led the charge to purge what remained of the daemons. They are alive, all of them. The one named Ahsoka was wounded, a daemon's blade caught her in the side, but she was retrieved from the field. She will recover."
Nira sighed deeply, eyes fluttering shut. "Good… good."
The fatigue rolled over her again, heavier this time, like a tide pulling her under. Her voice was little more than a whisper when she spoke next. "I think… I just want to sleep for a while. Then I'll return to my duties as Grand Regent."
There was a low, melodic chuckle in her mind, soft as a father's.
"Always so dutiful. Even now. Rest, Nira. You have earned it."
Her lips curved in a faint smile. "Yeah, I think I have."
She shifted slightly, curling onto her side, the sterile lights dimming as the med-bay sensors registered her slipping into rest. The Terminator guard at her bedside remained motionless, a silent sentinel, his red eye lenses burning faintly.
As Nira's breathing slowed and steadied, the faint shimmer of the Force pulsed around her once more.
===
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