The shuttle glided down from the sky, its engines humming as it descended toward the planetary capital. The world of Kal'Sarha, though not widely known in the greater galaxy, gleamed under the midday sun—a mix of towering city spires and weathered industrial zones. The capital itself was sprawling, the upper levels gleaming with prosperity while the lower regions spoke of unrest, a tension that crackled in the air even as Cassandra stepped off the shuttle.

  The clink of armored boots echoed behind her as her small detachment of stormtroopers disembarked. Na’la followed closely, datapad clutched to her chest, her face betraying nothing but focus. Cassandra had ordered precision, and Na'la would ensure nothing less. Yet, beneath her calm exterior, she couldn’t shake the sense that something was wrong here, that the senator’s plea for help was more than it appeared to be.

  Waiting for them at the end of the platform was Senator Yama'ii.

  Yama'ii stood tall, her figure draped in flowing, opulent fabrics that shimmered under the sunlight—soft violet hues blending with deep gold. She was from an alien species native to Kal'Sarha, a race known for their striking, voluptuous features, which only seemed to exaggerate her presence. Large, slanted eyes of a deep maroon stared out beneath long, dark lashes, and her skin had a pearlescent sheen that caught the light as she moved. Her lips, full and painted a deep red, curled into an exaggerated smile that, to Cassandra, felt hollow and forced.

  The sight of her made Cassandra’s lip curl slightly in disgust. There was something about Yama'ii’s mannerisms—her extravagant dress, her soft and overly delicate way of moving—that infuriated Cassandra. It felt… childish, unnecessary in a galaxy where power and control were all that mattered. But what stirred her irritation most was the knowledge of Yama'ii’s secret, something the senator thought hidden behind a mask of diplomacy.

  Cassandra knew better.

  Yama'ii was more than a senator. She was a lover, and more privately, a concubine to the Emperor. The thought grated against Cassandra’s every nerve, a constant reminder of the twisted complexities of the Imperial hierarchy. While she clawed and killed for her place at the Emperor's side, beings like Yama'ii earned favor through decadence and pleasure. It was pathetic.

  As Yama'ii approached, her delicate hand extended in a show of formality. "Lady Cassandra," she purred, her voice syrupy and too soft, "I am so grateful the Emperor has sent you. We are in desperate need."

  Cassandra didn’t take her hand. Instead, she gave a curt nod, her voice cold and to the point. "The Emperor deemed it necessary."

  Yama'ii’s smile faltered, but she quickly regained her composure, withdrawing her hand gracefully. "Yes, well, we must discuss the... delicate situation." She gestured for them to follow, her robes flowing elegantly behind her as she led them down a walkway toward the senator's private lands.

  As they walked, Cassandra turned her head slightly toward Na’la, her voice a low murmur. "She’s pathetic, isn’t she? A fool who believes her value lies in her indulgence."

  Na’la raised an eyebrow, glancing at Cassandra with a flicker of amusement she didn’t dare let fully form. "A concubine to the Emperor… it’s amusing in its own way, my Lady."

  Cassandra’s lips twisted into a faint smirk, the first hint of humor cracking through her usual icy demeanor. It was rare for her to show any kind of lightness, but in these brief moments with Na’la, there was a flicker of something softer. Something only Na’la had ever glimpsed, though it never lasted long. "Amusing is a generous word."

  Their conversation was brief, the city’s towering structures drawing closer as they made their way through the streets. The air was thick with tension, and Cassandra could sense the fear beneath the surface. She didn’t need to hear whispers or rumors—she could feel it. The city was crumbling, and Rebellion festered in the shadows.

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  As they approached the senator's private villa, Na'la took in the surroundings. The people—most of them common citizens—watched the Imperial procession with wide, wary eyes. It was clear that unrest was brewing. Small crowds gathered at street corners, and in the distance, she noticed what looked like hastily constructed barricades along certain streets. The lower levels of the city were in disrepair, grime and graffiti marking the structures, a far cry from the polished spires above.

  Inside the villa, the contrast was stark. The entrance hall was lavish, decorated in opulent shades of gold and ivory. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting soft light over polished marble floors. Servants—mostly droids and a few sentient beings—moved swiftly, keeping to the edges of the room as the senator led them deeper into the estate.

  "We have done all we can to keep things under control," Yama'ii said, her tone growing more anxious as they entered a private chamber lined with tall windows overlooking the city. "But the insurgents… they’ve been organizing. We believe they’ve received support from outside the planet. Possibly… the Rebellion."

  Cassandra narrowed her eyes, stepping closer to one of the windows, her gaze sweeping across the skyline. Her mind raced. The Rebellion was everywhere these days, spreading like a plague, emboldened by Jedi whispers and lies.

  "We will handle it," Cassandra said, her voice cold and final. "Have no doubt of that."

  Yama'ii nodded, though Cassandra barely noticed her. Her thoughts were already far from the senator. The threat of Rebellion was not what weighed on her mind. It was the lingering sense of unease, the disturbance in the Force that had been gnawing at her since they landed. Something was wrong on this planet—something far deeper than a simple uprising.

  As the senator continued to talk, Cassandra closed her eyes, taking a steady breath. She needed clarity, needed to center herself in the Dark Side, to let its power flow through her. Without another word, she turned away from Yama'ii and gestured for Na’la to follow her into an adjacent room.

  "Stay outside," Cassandra commanded the stormtroopers who had accompanied them. "I have an urgent matter to attend to."

  Na’la gave the troopers a nod and followed Cassandra into the private room. It was smaller, quieter, the walls lined with intricate designs and dim lights. A single cushion sat in the center of the room, a space clearly reserved for moments of meditation or solitude.

  Cassandra lowered herself to the cushion, crossing her legs beneath her as she placed her hands on her knees, palms open. Na'la watched from the doorway, her fingers tightening around her datapad. She had seen Cassandra meditate before, but there was something different this time—something darker and more desperate.

  Closing her eyes, Cassandra breathed in deeply, letting the cold, familiar tendrils of the Dark Side wrap around her like a shroud. But as she sank into the depths of her power, something stirred. The vision came, unbidden and unwelcome.

  A girl, standing in the midst of a storm. Her hair was white as snow, her eyes just as pale, glowing faintly against the backdrop of swirling mist. The vision was blurred, unfocused, but the girl’s presence was undeniable—her very existence seemed to pulse with energy that Cassandra couldn’t ignore.

  Cassandra’s brow furrowed, her breathing uneven as she struggled to see the girl clearly. There was something about her that called to Cassandra, a strange pull that she couldn’t understand, but couldn’t deny.

  Suddenly, the vision shifted—the girl’s image flickered and distorted, as if torn away by some unseen force. Cassandra gasped, her eyes snapping open as she was thrust back into the dimly lit room.

  Na’la, who had been quietly observing, stepped forward. "My Lady? Are you alright?"

  Cassandra’s jaw tightened, and she stood quickly, brushing off the vision as though it were nothing. "It was…nothing," she said, her voice clipped. But even as the words left her mouth, she knew it wasn’t true. The vision had unsettled her, shaken her focus in a way that nothing had in years.

  She couldn’t let it show. Not to Na’la. Not to anyone.

  "Prepare the troops," Cassandra commanded, her voice returning to its usual sharpness. "We move on the insurgents at dawn. This Rebellion will end by my hand."

  Na’la gave a small nod, though her eyes lingered on Cassandra with a hint of concern. She turned and left the room, leaving Cassandra alone once more.

  As the door slid shut, Cassandra clenched her fists, her mind racing with thoughts of the vision. The girl—whoever she was—had stirred something within her. And that, more than anything else, terrified her.