(A/N: sorry about the late chapter, i was playing DND)
=== Obi-Wan ===
Vulkan slept soundly, his chest rising and falling in slow, rhythmic breaths. He looked almost peaceful… it was strange, for a creature forged in fire and blood. His massive warhammer rested beside the stone slab that cradled his form. Not far from it lay the brass sword Obi-Wan had wielded across a decade of nightmares.
Obi-Wan approached the blade, his footsteps echoing quietly in the chamber. He crouched beside it, his hand hovering above the hilt for a moment before he finally grasped it. The familiar weight settled into his palm like an old companion. He closed his eyes, breathing in, savoring the connection. The blade had saved him more times than he could count.
He straightened slowly and turned to face the chamber's entrance as he sensed a presence behind him.
Yoda.
The Grand Master entered without a word, his gaze sweeping over Vulkan's sleeping form and then settling on Obi-Wan. There was something different in the Jedi Master's bearing. A heaviness, even for one who had always carried more than his share.
Yoda studied him a moment longer, then slowly walked to the center of the room, leaning on his gnarled cane. He sighed, the kind of sigh that came from seeing too much.
"Dark, the galaxy has become," he said at last, voice low. "The war… worse than ever."
Obi-Wan frowned. "You said the Imperium came. That they changed everything."
"Not changed. Overwhelmed." Yoda turned his eyes to the high windows, where sunlight filtered through in faint shafts. "Their armies… legions of metal and fire. Match them Republic forces cannot. Stand against them, Separatist droids cannot. In hours, planets fall. In bombardments, cities vanished."
"And the Jedi?" Obi-Wan asked, tension rising in his voice.
Yoda's ears drooped slightly. "Returned to Coruscant we have."
Obi-Wan looked down at the brass blade in his hand, then to Vulkan, sleeping so deeply, so still.
"I've seen what they can do," he murmured. "I thought perhaps… they could help us."
Yoda gave a grim nod. "Power, they have. Discipline. But mercy?" He shook his head. "Little of that. Absolute, their rule. Burn all, they cannot control."
The words lingered in the still air of the temple chamber, echoing faintly. Obi-Wan said nothing. He simply stood there, blade in hand, gaze lost in the flicker of light filtering through cracks in the ceiling. Outside, the sky of Tython remained still, serene.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Yoda's voice broke the silence once more, low and solemn. "Ready, the Imperium is. Their final assault… prepared, it is."
Obi-Wan turned to him, sensing the weight behind the words.
"Mandalore," Yoda said, confirming it. "Their target."
Obi-Wan stiffened. A name came unbidden to his mind. A face, a voice like a calm breeze amidst war.
"Satine," he whispered.
Yoda nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. "Know, I do, that close, you were. Her heart, heavy it has been. Tried, she has, to keep her world free. Of both sides."
"She would," Obi-Wan said, his voice a mix of pride and regret. "She always would. Even when everyone else chose sides… she chose peace."
"But peace," Yoda said gravely, "The Imperium does not bring."
Obi-Wan's jaw clenched. The thought of Imperial ships descending on the cities of Mandalore, of Satine standing alone against the might of the Imperium, made his chest tighten.
"If I leave now…" he began.
"Still time, there may be," Yoda said, nodding once. "But not much."
Obi-Wan looked once more toward the stone slab, where Vulkan's mighty form lay motionless. His massive frame rose and fell with each slow, heavy breath, his warhammer resting like a relic of ancient gods at his side.
"I can't leave him," Obi-Wan said. "Not here. Not unguarded."
"Alone, he will not be," Yoda replied gently. "Watch over him, I shall. Promise you this, I do. Safe, he will remain."
Obi-Wan looked down at the brass blade in his hand. The weapon felt heavier now, as if burdened with the weight of choice.
"He saved me," he said softly. "More times than I can count. Carried me through the Warp when I was broken. Walked beside me for ten long years. I owe him everything."
Yoda stepped forward and placed a hand, small and wrinkled on Obi-Wan's arm.
"More than most, you have seen," he said. "And stronger, you have become. But burden alone, you must not carry. Trust, we must. In each other. In the Force."
With a final glance toward the sleeping giant, Obi-Wan set the blade beside the hammer and turned toward the temple's outer corridor.
"Then I'll go," he said. "To Mandalore."
Yoda nodded once more. "Find her, you must. Save her, if you can. But remember, Obi-Wan, not just her, this is about. A symbol she is, to many. Hope, she represents. If Mandalore falls… more than a world we lose."
Obi-Wan paused at the threshold. He turned to Yoda one last time.
"May the Force be with you, Master."
Yoda smiled, faint but warm. "And with you."
With that, Obi-Wan strode into the corridor, his robes trailing behind him, the fire of resolve lighting his path.
=== Duchess Satine ===
The wind swept across the high spires of the capital, stirring the silken folds of Duchess Satine Kryze's robe as she stood alone on the grand balcony. The view before her, once the pride of her people, now twisted her stomach into knots.
High above Mandalore's atmosphere, three colossal ships hung in the sky like harbingers of doom, slate gray behemoths that blotted out the stars. Their forms were unlike anything Satine had seen in all her years of diplomacy and rule. Gothic in design, crowned with spires and covered in golden iconography.
She had heard whispers, reports from far systems, intercepted communications, desperate pleas from outer colonies before they went silent. The Republic had struggled to understand them, to negotiate. The Separatists had tried to crush them. Both had failed.
Now they had come for Mandalore.
Her reflection shimmered in the polished glass pane of the balcony doors. Lines of weariness marked her noble face. Her blue eyes, once filled with idealistic fire, were dulled now by the weight of years and too many compromises. Her hands gripped the balcony railing, knuckles pale with tension.
How many more must die? she wondered.
The people below bustled in panic. Even in the protected domes of Sundari, citizens could see the ships in the sky. Parents ushered children inside. Shops were closed. Emergency sirens howled, though no alarms could drown out the silence from the stars, the kind that comes before destruction.
She had seen what the Imperium did to worlds that resisted like Nevarro.
Entire cities burned. Populations cleansed for "heresy." Cultures deemed unworthy, ground beneath the heels of armored giants who marched in the name of their Emperor. Satine had watched the footage, broken transmissions from worlds that fought back, the incineration of neutral systems, the executions of leaders who refused to submit.
No mercy.
No compromise.
They want obedience. Or extinction.
And yet…
If she surrendered, if she gave herself over willingly, perhaps they would spare her people. Perhaps Mandalore could live under the yoke. It was a painful thought. Her people were proud, fierce, and free. But they were not ready for this. No army, no fleet, could stand against what loomed in orbit.
Would they accept her sacrifice? Would they curse her for bowing?
She pressed a hand to her chest, breathing slowly, trying to still the tremor in her heart.
Footsteps echoed behind her. She didn't need to turn to know who it was, her steward, her advisor, her oldest remaining friend.
"They're deploying landing craft," he said quietly, stepping beside her. "It won't be long now."
Satine nodded slowly. Her voice was calm, though it felt like her throat was filled with ash.
"Have the people been moved into shelters?"
"Yes, Duchess. We've done what we can."
She looked to the sky once more. Among the black hulls, she saw the drop pods, tiny specks now, but soon they would become storms of fire and steel. The descent had begun.
"I have led this world through politics, famine, and betrayal," she whispered. "But I have never stood before something like this. Something that wants everything, or nothing."
Her advisor looked at her, a question unspoken in his eyes.
She answered it before he could voice it. "Send a transmission. Offer a parley. I will speak with their commander directly."
"Are you sure?"
"No," she admitted, "but if Mandalore is to burn, I will not let it happen without trying everything."
He gave a stiff nod and left her alone once more.
As the last light of the setting sun cast golden hues across the balcony, Satine stood tall, hands at her sides, chin raised. She was afraid, more than she had ever been, but she would face them not as a ruler groveling in fear, but as a woman unwilling to abandon her people to annihilation without trying to save them.
Whatever came next… she would meet it with dignity.
=== Bo-Katan ===
The hum of the comms station filled the command post with a soft, pulsing rhythm. Bo-Katan stood alone beside the central console, her gauntlet resting lightly on the holographic interface.
Yet she was still. Motionless, as the console blinked with an incoming transmission from the royal palace. Coordinates: Sundari. Source: Duchess Satine Kryze.
A second passed. Then two.
With a gloved hand, she accepted the call.
The green light shimmered to life, forming the delicate image of her sister. Satine looked tired, no, not just tired. Worn. Her royal robes were immaculate as always, but her eyes… her eyes had seen too much. Bo-Katan recognized the expression. She had seen it too often on the faces of soldiers who'd survived battles they wished they hadn't.
"Bo," Satine said softly, her voice only barely touched with the formality expected of her station. "I wasn't sure if this would reach you."
Bo-Katan stared at the projection. "I'm not hard to find these days."
A faint smile ghosted over Satine's lips, but faded quickly.
"I won't waste your time," Satine said. "I've seen what they do, Bo. What the Imperium brings. I watched them glass an entire outpost because the locals refused to kneel. And now they orbit my planet like wolves circling dying prey. If surrendering myself can spare the people of Mandalore, then that's what I'll do."
Bo-Katan's fingers curled into a fist at her side.
"You'd give yourself up?" Bo-Katan asked, voice low.
"If it keeps Mandalore from burning… yes."
A heavy silence stretched between them. For all their differences — pacifist and warrior, idealist and realist — they were still sisters. Satine had always tried to shield Bo-Katan from the boredom of diplomacy, and Bo-Katan had always believed herself strong enough to shield Satine from war. They had both failed.
"Even if you surrender, they might still kill you for your defiance from before."
"I know," Satine said. "But I have to try. I can't just stand by and watch it all vanish."
Bo-Katan took a long breath. "I'll speak to Maximus."
Satine's eyes softened. "Thank you."
Bo-Katan didn't reply at first. The words felt heavy in her chest. Finally, she looked back up at her sister's image. "You were always the brave one, you know that? Always willing to stand for what you believe."
Satine gave a soft laugh. "You're the only one who's ever said that to me."
"Yeah, well. Maybe I'm getting sentimental."
They shared a quiet moment, one rare and fragile.
"Be safe, Bo," Satine said.
Bo-Katan gave a curt nod. "You too."
Then the transmission ended, the projection fading into static.
Bo-Katan stared at the console for a long while after, her expression unreadable. Then she placed her helmet back over her head, the hiss of sealing armor snapping her back to the present.
And with that, she turned from the outpost's shattered wall, heading back toward the heart of the Imperium war machine.
===
The command deck was alive with motion, servitors clattering over cogitators, officers murmuring reports into vox-links, pict-feeds flickering across walls showing the surface of Mandalore, and beyond it, the looming orbital blockade.
At the center of it all stood multiple giants.
Bo-Katan stepped forward and dropped to one knee before them. Her voice was sharp, controlled.
"My lords. I bring a transmission from Duchess Satine of Sundari."
Maximus turned slowly, studying her with the silent intensity of a predator at rest. For a long moment, none of the Astartes said a word.
The silence stretched.
Then, Maximus spoke.
"She wishes to surrender," he said. It wasn't a question.
Bo-Katan nodded. "Yes, my lord. In exchange for mercy upon the Mandalorian people."
Sebastian let out a low grunt. While Raxor simply folded his arms.
The Ultramarine stepped forward, towering over her even from a distance. "We have already discussed what shall be done," he said. "With Mandalore. With her people."
He turned toward the center of the bridge and tapped a control rune, and the hololithic map shimmered, expanding to show key cities, resistance pockets, Republic remnants… and Satine's palace glowing in pale blue.
Maximus glanced to his brothers. Raxor gave a single, approving nod. Sebastian remained silent, but that was agreement enough.
"You, Bo-Katan Kryze. Alongside Jarek of the Obsidian Crusaders and Korrin of the Pyro Drakes, shall lead the conquest of Mandalore."
Bo-Katan blinked.
"The three legions are to take the planet. The fleets will remain in orbit. Scout detachments are already planet-side and await your orders. You three are to secure compliance… however you see fit."
His eyes narrowed slightly, the glint of his optics both commanding and deliberate.
"This is your reward. For your loyalty. For your unwavering service. For the blood you've spilled in the Imperium's name. Mandalore… is yours."
Raxor finally spoke. "Pacify the world in fire or reason. But pacify it. Bring it under the Imperium's shadow."
Sebastian chuckled. "And if it won't kneel, break its back."
Bo-Katan stood, the magnitude of their words sinking into her bones. She had dreamed of this. Of reclaiming her home. Of seeing it free of Republic decay and Separatist rot. But now, freedom came with chains of a different kind. The Imperium's chains.
Maximus stepped closer. "You are Mandalorian. And you are Imperium. You are both. This is your moment, Bo-Katan Kryze. Prove that your people are worthy. Or prove that they are not."
Bo-Katan straightened, fist over her chestplate.
"I will not fail you, my lords."
Maximus gave a single nod.
"Go. Make Mandalore burn or rise."
===
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