The night was alive with the sharp staccato of blaster fire, echoing through the dense forest like angry thunder. Heat from distant explosions mingled with the cool night air, carrying the scent of scorched foliage and ozone. Dom and Trax moved in seamless coordination, sweat and grime streaking their faces, every muscle taut with determination.
Suddenly, Dom froze mid-stride. A flicker at the edge of his vision—a dark figure, watching from the treeline. His breath hitched. There. A shadow against the pale moonlight, draped in black, the cracked obsidian mask reflecting shards of starlight. The Pale Father. "Trax... behind you!" Dom barked, heart pounding.
Trax whirled just as a searing bolt slammed into his energy shield, a shower of sparks bursting in the sudden silence around them. The Pale Father stepped forward, the forest seeming to grow colder with every step he took. His presence was like a suffocating weight pressing against the chest, the very shadows twisting unnaturally around him. "You meddle in forces beyond your understanding," the Pale Father's voice echoed—icy, resonant, bone-deep. "This rebellion will burn."
Dom ignited his lightsaber, the blue glow cutting through the night like a beacon of defiance. "We fight for freedom," he said, voice steady despite the rising dread. "You will never snuff it out." The Pale Father's crimson blade flared, a jagged wound in the darkness. "This ends now."
Their blades met with a crackle of energy, sparks raining down like fiery embers. Dom's mind sharpened into a razor's edge—every strike a desperate plea for survival, every block a test of his resolve. The Pale Father's attacks were precise, surgical, each movement dripping with cruel intent. Around them, the forest seemed to recoil—the trees whispering ancient warnings as the duel unfolded. The scent of damp earth mingled with the metallic tang of blood. Suddenly, a searing pain exploded in Dom's forearm. He gasped, eyes wide as crimson spilled down his sleeve. His grip faltered. The Pale Father's blade had found flesh."No… not like this…" Dom ground out through clenched teeth, staggering backward. The pain was blinding, but his mind screamed to hold fast. "Dom, hold your ground!" Trax's voice crackled through the comm, urgency sharp as a vibroblade. "We can't hold long, but reinforcements are inbound. Stay alive."
Dom swallowed the burning sting, eyes darting to Trax. The sound of engines pierced the night—a deep, mechanical growl growing louder by the second. "Reinforcements?" Dom breathed, hope flickering like a fragile flame. From the treeline, Rebel fighters and Mandalorian warriors erupted like ghosts of war, blaster bolts ripping through the air in deadly arcs. The Pale Father snarled, forced to retreat, his shadow bleeding into the darkness.
Trax was beside Dom in an instant, steadying him. "We've got you," he said, voice low but fierce. "You're coming with us." Dom's vision swam. The pain was a roaring beast behind his eyes, but he nodded weakly. As hands lifted him toward the transport, the last thing he saw was the Pale Father's silhouette against the burning horizon—a dark promise of battles yet to come. "This isn't over," Dom whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
Dom's breathing is ragged. The medical droid works swiftly, sealing the wound where his arm was severed. Trax stands nearby, silent, fists clenched in frustration. We weren't ready for this. Not for him. Not for the Pale Father. Dom forces his eyes open. His face is pale, drained. Dom (low, pained) Did… did we lose anyone? Trax Too many. We barely got you out alive. The Mandos are holding the line… but they won't hold forever. The ship shudders as it escapes the atmosphere, streaking toward the stars.
The Pale Father returns, his crimson saber extinguished. Before him kneels his dark council faceless inquisitors, assassins, and corrupted generals. A hologram flickers to life Lorenzo, younger, sharp-eyed, dressed in Rebel insignia. His face twists in fear as he watches the Pale Father from afar via a stolen feed. Pale father (cold, commanding) They think reinforcements saved them. No. This was always part of the plan. An inquisitor steps forward. What of the Jedi, Dom? Should we pursue it? The Pale Father turns, his cracked mask gleaming. No… Let him run. Let him suffer. Pain… breeds loyalty in time.
Dom sits in recovery, staring at the prosthetic stump where his arm used to be. A REBEL COMMANDER enters battle-worn, scarred: General Juno. You faced something none of us understood… and lived. That's something. Dom (sarcastic, bitter) Lived. Right. I've lost my arm. Half my squad. My faith…? That's fading too. Juno kneels, leveling her gaze with his.General jodo Then finds something new to fight for. Because the Pale Father isn't done with you. And neither is this war.
Trax meets in secret with Mandalorian leaders. Plans are exchanged. Maps illuminated. They speak of forging a new alliance. Not just survival vengeance. They speak of rebuilding. Of preparing for the long war ahead.
Lorenzo watches old holograms: he and Dom as brothers, laughing, young, untouched by war. His hand trembles. Behind him… an IMPERIAL AGENT speaks. Imperial agents
When the time comes… will you stand with blood? Or with victory? Lorenzo's answer doesn't come easily. His loyalty will shape the future.