"You encountered Gethzerion." Mother Talzin's statement wasn't a question. She stood in her private chambers, fingers steepled before her face, eyes burning with intensity. "Tell me everything."
"She appeared at the training site," Wanda said, choosing her words carefully. "Demonstrated power that made both of us look like children. And she carried an artifact—something from Zalem that amplifies abilities similar to what Asajj now possesses."
"Similar," Asajj murmured, staring at her hands. Blue-white energy flickered briefly between her fingers before she consciously suppressed it. "But not identical. Her power felt... corrupted. Twisted."
Mother Talzin's expression darkened. She began pacing, arms crossed, one finger tapping against her lips in a gesture Wanda had learned meant the ancient Nightsister was calculating, planning, preparing for a dozen contingencies simultaneously.
"I've just consolidated the alliance," Talzin said finally. "United the clans against Gethzerion's return. And now our enemy possesses a weapon we don't understand."
"I'll inform the other clan leaders immediately," Wanda offered. "Ros Lai needs to know. They all do."
Talzin nodded approval. "Go. Spread the word. They must prepare—though for what, I cannot yet say."
Wanda turned to leave. Asajj hesitated, then moved to follow.
"Asajj. Stay a moment."
The Nightsister leader's voice stopped Asajj mid-step. She turned back, finding Talzin watching her with an expression that mixed pride, concern, and something else—something that looked almost like regret.
Talzin withdrew her hands from her sleeves. An orange crystal sphere materialized between her palms, rotating slowly, its depths filled with swirling light.
"You've awakened the power that has eluded you for years," Talzin said softly. "I felt it ripple across this entire world. Every Nightsister on Dathomir sensed your transformation."
Asajj's chest tightened. She didn't trust herself to speak.
"But this power is raw," Talzin continued. "Unrefined. Untested. You wielded it once in desperation, but controlling it—mastering it—will require knowledge this world cannot provide."
The words settled over Asajj like a shroud. "You're saying I can't stay."
"I'm saying Dathomir cannot teach you what you need to learn." Talzin's voice carried gentle finality. "To truly harness your gift, to become what you're meant to be—you must seek knowledge elsewhere. For our sisters. For our clan. For our war against both Sidious and Gethzerion."
Asajj wanted to argue, to find some way around this pronouncement. But she recognized wisdom when she heard it. She'd known, deep down, since the moment that cosmic power flooded her system.
This was bigger than Dathomir. Bigger than her vendetta against Dooku. Maybe even bigger than the Clone Wars.
"Where do I go?" she asked quietly. "Who else in this galaxy understands power like mine? Who could possibly teach me?"
The orange sphere in Talzin's hands brightened, projecting holographic images—star systems, planets, coordinates that meant nothing to Asajj yet.
"Your power is not unique," Talzin said, and those words struck like lightning. "Somewhere in this galaxy, there are others who share your gift. Family, Asajj. Blood family who carry the same cosmic heritage."
Asajj felt the ground tilt beneath her. "What? I have—"
"Yes." Talzin's smile was sad, knowing. "You are not alone in this. There are others with your blood, your power, your potential. You must find them. Learn from them. Only then will you truly understand what you've become."
"But the alliance—" Asajj started.
"Will endure," Talzin interrupted. "Speak with Count Dooku before you leave. Tell him what you've discovered, what you plan. The Count is many things, but he understands the necessity of power. He may even help guide your search."
Asajj bit her lower lip, conflict warring across her pale features. She'd only just found her place here. Just been accepted as a true Nightsister. And now...
"You will always have a home here," Talzin said, reading her thoughts as clearly as if Asajj had spoken them aloud. "This is your clan. Your family. No matter how far you travel, no matter how long you're gone—Dathomir will be waiting for you." She placed a hand on Asajj's shoulder, the touch gentle despite the ancient power in those fingers. "Your journey may be longer than either of us expects. But you will return to us, my child. I have foreseen it."
Something in Asajj's chest cracked open—some wall she'd maintained for so long she'd forgotten it was there. "I won't let you down, Mother."
"I know." Talzin's smile widened slightly. "Now go. Prepare. And remember—the Force may guide you, but you must choose your own path."
The next few hours passed in a blur of activity.
Asajj gathered supplies, packed what little she owned, said awkward farewells to Nightsisters who were still getting used to calling her sister. She contacted Count Dooku via encrypted channel, explained what she'd discovered, and—to her surprise—received his blessing to pursue this new knowledge.
"Power is power, my dear," Dooku had said, his holographic image flickering in the dim light. "Wherever it leads you, follow. And when you've mastered it..." His smile was cold, calculating. "Then we will discuss your place in the order of things."
The hardest farewell was Illyana.
Her cousin found her at the landing pad where a smuggler's ship waited—passage purchased with credits Mother Talzin had provided. The young Nightsister looked smaller than usual, her eyes red-rimmed.
"You're really leaving." Not a question. An accusation.
"I have to." Asajj knelt, bringing herself to Illyana's eye level. "To learn. To get stronger. To—"
"To leave me." Illyana's voice cracked. "Just like everyone else."
The words were a knife to the chest. Asajj had no defense against them, no argument that wouldn't sound like an excuse.
"I'll come back," she said instead. "I promise."
Illyana stared at her for a long moment. Then, without warning, she threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around Asajj in a fierce hug.
Asajj froze—then, slowly, awkwardly, returned the embrace. "I'm not good at this," she muttered.
"I know." Illyana's voice was muffled against Asajj's shoulder. "But you're trying. That's what matters."
When they finally separated, Merlin was there too, standing with arms crossed but eyes suspiciously bright. "Don't die out there."
"Wasn't planning on it," Asajj said dryly.
"Good." Merlin nodded once, sharp and decisive. "Because if you do, I'll find a way to bring you back just so I can kill you myself."
Despite everything, Asajj smiled. "Noted."
Wanda stood apart from the younger Nightsisters, maintaining her usual careful distance. When Asajj met her eyes, the Scarlet Witch's expression was unreadable.
"Try not to get yourself killed," Wanda said. "Illyana would never forgive me if I let that happen."
"Touching concern," Asajj shot back.
"I mean it." Wanda's eyes flashed briefly crimson. "You've got something important inside you now. Don't waste it."
It wasn't quite respect. Wasn't quite friendship. But it was something—an acknowledgment that they'd moved beyond simple enmity into more complicated territory.
"I'll do my best," Asajj said.
She climbed the boarding ramp of the smuggler's vessel—a beat-up freighter that had seen better decades. At the top, she paused, looking back at the assembled group.
Illyana waved frantically. Merlin raised one hand in stoic farewell. Mother Talzin stood in the background, her presence a pillar of ancient strength.
And Wanda... Wanda just nodded once.
The ramp closed. Engines roared to life. And Asajj Ventress left Dathomir behind, heading into the unknown.
Wanda watched the ship climb into Dathomir's cloudy sky until it was just a speck, then nothing.
"Did she really have to go?" Illyana's voice was small, wounded.
"Everyone has their own path to walk, little one." Wanda pulled the girl close, one arm around her shoulders. "But she'll find her way back. This is her home now. She won't forget that."
"How long will it take?" Merlin asked, ever practical.
Wanda smiled sadly. "As long as it takes. That's the thing about journeys—you don't always know the ending when you start."
Illyana's shoulders shook slightly. Wanda could feel her fighting tears, trying to be strong, trying to be brave.
A song drifted into Wanda's mind—something from Earth, from the war Pietro had loved learning about. Vera Lynn's voice, singing across decades about separation and hope.
Almost without thinking, Wanda began to hum. Then, softly, she sang:
"We'll meet again, Don't know where, don't know when, But I know we'll meet again some sunny day. Keep smiling through, Just like you always do, Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away..."
Illyana looked up, eyes wide. "That's beautiful."
"It's from my world," Wanda said. "A song people sang during a terrible war, when loved ones were separated and nobody knew if they'd see each other again."
"Did they?" Merlin asked. "See each other again?"
"Some did." Wanda's voice was gentle. "Some didn't. But the hope—that's what mattered. Believing in the possibility of reunion."
She sang it again, this time with both girls joining in, their voices harmonizing in the alien air. The melody was strange here, out of place on this crimson world of mist and magic. But somehow it fit—a promise carried across space and time.
When the song ended, Wanda squeezed both girls' shoulders. "Come on. Let's get some food. I don't know about you two, but I'm starving."
They started back toward the village, Illyana and Merlin chattering about what to eat, the immediate distraction of hunger overcoming the ache of separation.
Then the sky roared.
A ship descended through the clouds—massive, angular, nothing like the smuggler's freighter. This was a Republic vessel, its hull bearing the insignia of the Jedi Order.