The mines never slept.
Grarrukk had learned that much in his short, brutal life beneath the surface of Kessel. The air was thick with dust and the scent of sweat and decay. The clinking of chains echoed endlessly, joined by the thunder of drills, the bark of guards, and the occasional scream that no one dared acknowledge.
He was still young — barely able to walk upright — but his body was growing fast, like all Wookiees. His parents, Thurraka and Broorrn, worked tirelessly to shield him from the worst of it. His mother would hum soft, broken growls into his fur while they huddled in the dark, and his father would steal scraps of food from the overseers, risking lashes just to keep his son strong.
They were prisoners. Slaves. But together, they had carved a small ember of peace in the belly of a world made of cruelty.
Until that night.
It began with the alarms.
The flashing red lights bathed the cell blocks in a bloody glow. Grarrukk woke to the sound of sirens and shouting. Stormtroopers stormed in — not for a routine check, but something different. Angry. Urgent.
A prisoner had tried to escape. An entire tunnel had collapsed. The guards wanted someone to blame.
They dragged Wookiees out of the holding pens, barking in Basic, guns raised, fists flying. No questions. No mercy. Just punishment.
Grarrukk clung to his mother's fur as she stood between him and the troopers. His father roared — a deep, defiant sound that made even the metal walls shake. But one of the guards responded with a blaster. A single bolt.
Broorrn dropped to his knees, smoke rising from his chest.
Grarrukk froze. The world stopped moving. His heart pounded louder than the alarms.
Thurraka screamed — not in fear, but fury. She lunged, clawed at the guard with wild strength. Another shot rang out.
She fell beside her mate, still reaching for her son.
Grarrukk's world unraveled in that moment — not in fire, but silence. The troopers moved on, dragging away others, leaving him kneeling in ash and blood. His small claws trembled against the cold floor.
He had lost everything. Again.
But this time… he remembered.
Not just the pain — but the pattern. The same pattern from before. On Earth. On the plantation. The cruelty, the control, the illusion of power.
Only now, the overseer was not holding the whip. He was beneath it.
As the bodies cooled and the red lights dimmed, Grarrukk sat alone in the dark, his growls silent. But inside him, something stirred — not hate. Not yet.
Conviction.
For the first time in either of his lives, he understood what it meant to lose something precious. And he would never let anyone take from him again.