The battle for Yavin began without them.
But they arrived before it ended.
The Crownbreaker emerged from hyperspace behind a shattered Rebel flank—engaging Imperial pursuers with cloak-ripped plasma bursts that fried sensors and fractured formations.
Mira led the fleet.
Toren was with the sabotage team inside the Death Star's outer ring.
And for the first time…
The Empire saw their ghosts in the light.
In the trench, Luke flew alone.
Toren watched from a breached conduit above the exhaust port.
He didn't shout.
Didn't interfere.
He simply willed the Force to guide the boy.
And when the blast struck true—
Toren closed his eyes and whispered:
"Legacy chosen right."
They barely escaped.
Cindar lost thirty-three in the Death Star assault.
Mira bore scars from a near-miss corridor collapse.
Toren's hands still shook.
But they had lived.
And so had the Rebellion.
The Empire had cracked.
Not shattered.
But no longer invincible.
In the ashes of orbit, Mira and Toren stood on the Crownbreaker's deck.
She looked at him.
"It's not over."
"No," he said. "But we turned the tide."
She placed her hand on his chest.
"You ever think we'd make it?"
He leaned his forehead to hers.
"No. But I hoped you would."