Naga Sadow vanished in a flash of black light, his silhouette shooting into the towering maze of Coruscant's skyline—gone before any Jedi could follow. The courtyard fell into stillness. The Jedi stood in the aftermath of their greatest failure, the bitter realization settling like dust across shattered stone. They had faced the ancient, and the ancient had escaped. Hands clenched. Breathing trembled. Not one saber ignited. Grief replaced battle.
Yoda stood at the center, his small frame still, his cane supporting more weight than ever before. His eyes were lowered—not in defeat, but in mourning. His former student had been taken. devoured by an ancient will older than the Republic itself.
He exhaled once, long and steady, then spoke.
"Jedi… those who still stand… tend to the wounded, you must. Take every solemn moment you require. A great loss we have suffered. Our comrade… our brother… our friend, Dooku, is gone."
Silence followed. No one contradicted him. There was nothing left to say.
Near the fractured stone steps, Qui-Gon Jinn sat, shoulders lowered, gaze empty. His saber was extinguished, resting across his knees. The grief did not come in tears, but in the hollow stillness of a man who had lost more than a master—he had lost the one person who shaped his path.
Obi-Wan approached quietly. He did not speak at first. He simply placed a hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder—firm, steady, present.
Qui-Gon did not look up. His voice was low, roughened. "He was my teacher. And now… his body carries an evil older than any lesson he gave."
Obi-Wan's grip tightened just slightly. "Take your time, Master. As long as you need. I'm here."
The words were simple, and real.
Qui-Gon finally nodded once, slow, controlled. "Thank you… my young Padawan."
The Jedi began to move—slowly—gathering the wounded, supporting one another, standing in the shadow of a wound carved into the very heart of the Order.
Meanwhile, on Zeta Halo. The grasslands rolled under artificial sunlight, the blue sky arching calm and endless. Morgan le Fay sat beside Jin-Woo, her cloak draped over her legs. The two watched a projected hologram hovering above the field—Offensive Bias relaying the live feed from Coruscant. The image flickered: the ruined courtyard, the collapsing stone, the Jedi kneeling in exhaustion.
Rey, Talon, Padmé, and Elena played a short distance away—Padmé spinning with laughter as Talon guided her by the wrist across the grass. Elena, her sister, followed with a bundle of flowers, adjusting them in Padmé's hair.
Padmé looked up at the sky-ring curving overhead. "This place is enormous… it feels bigger than any world I've seen. The ring just keeps going."
Rey lay back in the grass, arms crossed behind her head. "I still don't like it," she muttered. "Despondent Pyre keeps feeding me those pink blobbies and nutrient cubes all the time—and the other monitors, just like him, are always watching me whether I'm eating or not."
Talon snorted. "They're harmless. They just hover."
"That makes it worse," Rey shot back, though there was no real anger in it.
Elena laughed quietly, fixing the flowers in Padmé's hair. The moment was peaceful.
But not where Jin-Woo and Morgan sat.
Morgan's eyes narrowed as she watched Sadow escape into the Coruscant skyline. Her voice held restrained irritation, the kind that could cut mountains clean in half.
"Jin-Woo," she said, tone level, "this is your fault. You should have warned them. There was a Sith throne beneath the Jedi Temple. There were signs. You knew the architecture wasn't theirs."
Jin-Woo did not look away from the projection. His expression remained calm.
"I expected artifacts," he answered. "Old runes. Maybe a dormant echo. I did not expect an ancient Sith lord to still be alive in spiritual form."
Morgan's fingers tightened slightly on the grass. "Naga Sadow is not a trivial name. He is the kind of threat you do not gamble with."
Jin-Woo didn't answer at once. The hologram flickered again—Jedi moving to contain the courtyard, healers rushing in, wounded being lifted from shattered stone. At the center, Yoda stood unmoving. He looked smaller now, not by size, but by weight.
Offensive Bias shifted its focus. The red ocular lens angled toward Jin-Woo, voice steady and precise.
"Queen Morgan. Supreme Executor. The Shrine of the Depths was visited once before—during your early activities on Coruscant."
Jin-Woo lifted a hand slightly. "I already know. I was there."
Offensive Bias continued without pause. "Records indicate the site was dormant then. Spirits inactive. Defensive systems present but degraded. You extracted artifacts and left minimal disturbance."
Jin-Woo let out a quiet breath. "Either Sadow was already there but in a dead-sleep state so deep not even the Force stirred him… or—there was a second variable. Something, or someone, placed him there later. A hand familiar with ancient power."
Morgan's eyes narrowed. "The Mortis lineage."
Jin-Woo didn't deny it.
Offensive Bias' projection shifted, pulling archival data, ancient starmaps, Sith historical decay timelines.
"Based on available historical and archeological records," Offensive Bias said, "the confirmed burial site of Naga Sadow is located on Korriban. Not Coruscant. The probability of his corpse being physically present beneath the Jedi Temple is 0.0031%. Therefore—"
Morgan's expression sharpened. "Therefore someone moved him."
Offensive Bias' red lens pulsed once. "Correction. Someone implanted him. Estimated probability of external interference: Seventy percent. The likely actors are the Mortis entities, or a Force manipulation event similar in scale."
Morgan exhaled through her nose, annoyed rather than surprised. "The Daughter is on Naboo now—hovering over Anakin like some protective guardian spirit. He's her counterbalance to you. Fitting, considering you've taken an interest in the boy's future." Her tone sharpened with dry humor. "What a delightful role—to be married to the Shadow Monarch and still deal with cosmic children fighting over the Chosen One."
Jin-Woo didn't deny it. His gaze stayed on the holographic feed of Coruscant. "Then I go to Korriban. I finish Sadow myself."
Morgan watched the image a moment longer—the courtyard, the silent Jedi, the grief that wasn't spoken but hung thick enough to touch. "No," she said. "I'll go."
Jin-Woo turned toward her.
Morgan met his look directly. "You should be on Coruscant when the Jedi break. They need to see you there. Otherwise they'll assume you caused this." Her voice stayed even. "And you did nudge Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon into entering that shrine. Whether you intended this outcome or not, the weight will fall on you. Better to face it than avoid it."
Jin-Woo tilted his head. "You're sure, Morgan? You were planning to go to Cato Neimoidia. To collapse the Trade Federation fleet. kill Plagueis. take his midichlorian manipulation for yourself."
Morgan gave a small, tired sigh. "That was the plan. But the situation changed the moment Sadow walked out of that Temple alive." Her eyes narrowed, steel under the surface.
"If Sadow is allowed to roam, he will tip the scale—not just for the Sith, but against the advantage you've built. I don't intend to let an ancient corpse wrapped in ego decide the future we intend to create."
She stood, cloak falling across her shoulders, wind catching the edges. "I'll hunt him on Korriban."
Her body shifted. Flesh, fabric, and light folded inward—then spread outward again. Bone-like mask sealing over her mouth. A black-violet cloak tore into long tattered banners that flowed behind her like smoke. Two metallic horn-spines pushed up from her back, humming with condensed sorcery. A pink sigil pulsed once across her torso .
( img of morgan )
Her eyes glowed in pale pink, steady and unblinking.
Morgan le Fay, Monarch of Transfiguration, stood in full form.
She smiled—sharp, amused, and faintly irritated. "I have to admit, husband… this disaster of yours is enough to agitate me. I haven't felt this restless in years." Her voice echoed slightly, layered with power.
"Until now, every opponent has been a disappointment. Weaklings, pretenders, children with sharp sticks. Except you." She tilted her head, mask shifting as if to reveal an unseen grin. "Because my monarch power is born from yours. So—thank you for finally giving me something worth tearing apart."
Jin-Woo exhaled in dry sarcasm. "Glad to be appreciated… Queen of Lostbelt Britain."
Morgan chuckled once, low.
A short distance away, Padmé paused mid-spin with Talon, stopping to stare. A chill crawled up her arms. "Who… is that woman? There's… so much aura around her. It's like the air itself is tinted pink."
Rey lay back in the grass without lifting her head. "That's Morgan."
Padmé blinked. "Morgan… that Morgan? The one who keeps teaching me to drink tea and stand straighter?"
Rey flicked a hand. "Yes. The three-thousand-year-old, terrifyingly affectionate, occasionally homicidal one."
Padmé's voice dipped. "…Is she angry?"
Rey shrugged. "Not angry. Just showing off. Her monarch power comes from Jin-Woo anyway. She likes reminding everyone."
Padmé watched Morgan take one step toward the gate forming before her—a ring of spinning violet light—and felt her lungs tighten.
Talon only smirked faintly, watching the cloak ripple like living shadow. "That's just Morgan being Morgan."
Morgan stepped toward the forming portal—transfiguration magic warping space into a spiraling, violet gate. Her feet no longer touched the ground; her monarch form floated effortlessly, cloak trailing like a comet tail.
She glanced back. "Then I'm off, my husband. I hope this opponent is at least comparable to that Jacen Solo fragment you brought me once."
Jin-Woo didn't look away from the projection. "Jacen Solo was only a fragment of Darth Caedus. Strong, but still incomplete. You handled him well ."
Morgan rolled her wrist, violet flame curling around her hand. "Then this shouldn't take long."
Jin-Woo finally turned his head toward her. "Morgan—don't kill XoXaan. Or the others. They recognized me as their Sith'ari. I want them intact. Remind them who the master is—but don't erase them."
Morgan paused mid-hover, mask tilting, tone dry. "My husband… you already command millions. You have Zakuul Knights, Shadow Legions, dragons, giants, eldritch horrors,—your army list is getting ridiculous. Do you really need more?"
"Yes," Jin-Woo said, without blinking. "I don't feel like using my shadows every time I fight. And I want options."
Morgan snorted softly, amused. "Only you would call entire armies 'options.'"
Jin-woo continued. "And Morgan—just because you've perfected Yogumunt's power doesn't mean you're untouchable. You're strong. But you're also getting… a little arrogant. Don't get caught off guard—even if you are immortal now."
Morgan floated fully into the portal's light. Pink sigils pulsed once across her mask. "You worry too much," she said. "I'll be fine."
Morgan vanished. The portal sealed with a brief shimmer, and Zeta Halo returned to its quiet wind and wide artificial sky.
Jin-Woo remained still a moment, watching the air settle.
It isn't death I worry about. It's what she might bring back.
Mana, ki—currencies from outside this galaxy. The Force was fragile. Introduce a new law into the equation, and balance could break.
As jin woo deeply thought : This place runs on the Force.Introduce a different currency, and everything changes.
I won't let those I didn't choose touch that threshold.
Rey stepped beside him, hands on her hips. "When do I get a promotion like that? I've been with you longer. I should be next."
Padmé, Talon, and Elena turned at the same time.
"Wait, we can all become monarchs?, ", "Is that… actually an option?"
Rey pointed at where Morgan had vanished. "She gets the transformation. The aura. The golden mask. I get stuck as—what? Backup?"
Jin-Woo exhaled through his nose and placed a hand on Rey's head, pressing her hair just slightly out of place.
"First," he said, calm as an iron gate, "there are not many vacant seats for Monarchs. That's not how this works."
Rey puffed her cheeks, indignant.
"And second," he continued, tapping her forehead once, "you're already my Wrath Knight. The one who walks like Talion in the old rings—my Nazgûl. That level of power isn't 'second-hand.' It means when I need executor , I call you."
Rey hesitated. The irritation didn't leave her face, but it shifted. "…So I'm the one you send when something needs ended?"
"Yes," Jin-Woo said.
She tried to hold the pout another second, then failed. "…Fine. That's actually good."
Padmé leaned toward Talon, voice low. "She's going to challenge Morgan the moment she returns."
Talon didn't look surprised. "Of course she is."
Rey crossed her arms again, but there was a spark in her eyes now. "I'll prove I deserve a form too. When Morgan gets back, she's sparring me."