The Star Map pulsed before them, humming with ancient power, its cold blue glow casting eerie light across the tangled roots and dense foliage of Kashyyyk's Shadowlands. Bastila hesitated.

She had done this before. Opened another of these ancient maps. But something about this one felt… different.

"Alright," she muttered to herself, fingers hovering over the holographic interface. "How in the blazes did we get the last one open?"

A small chime rang out, followed by the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat.

Bastila startled.

The hologram flickered to life, a blue-skinned projection of a Rakatan figure standing before her with an almost amused expression.

"Greetings," it said, voice warm and eerily smooth. "This terminal has not been accessed in quite some time. Your muttering to yourself suggests you have experience in opening one of our Infinite Empire's Star Maps. I can assure you—each map offers different challenges, but should be no problem for someone worthy of the glory of the Infinite Empire."

Bastila scowled. "Well, that's… ominous."

"Remarkably vague," Jolee added dryly.

"Just like your story about how you ended up in the middle of Kashyyyk's Shadowlands and decided to join up with us," Carth remarked, arms crossed.

Jolee harrumphed, rubbing his beard. "I'm old enough to be afforded the respect given to elders when they decide what they do or do not want to share of their personal lives, dammit."

"How old are you, anyway—"

"Shhh!" Bastila cut Carth off sharply, her gaze fixed on the hologram. She exhaled and squared her shoulders. "What kind of challenge must I pass to access the data contained within this Star Map?"

"A simple one," the hologram replied, its tone unsettlingly cheerful. "A test of character."

Bastila frowned. "You hold secrets capable of influencing the entire galaxy, and you decide whether to divulge them based on… character?"

"How else would you determine who is worthy of such knowledge?" the hologram responded.

"Intelligence? Aptitude? Martial Might?" Bastila rattled off, unimpressed.

Jolee smirked. "I wouldn't be too sure, girl. Rotten character might be exactly what this thing is looking for."

"Martial might will only be tested as a last resort should you fail on basic character principles," the hologram responded pleasantly.

"Hey, let's try to avoid that at all costs," Carth muttered, his fingers instinctively grazing the safety on his blaster.

Bastila took a steadying breath. "Fine. I'm ready."

"Evaluation commencing," the hologram chirped. "Results will be compared against the pattern in memory. Just act like you should."

Bastila's brows furrowed. "Like I should? What does that even mean?"

The hologram ignored her.

"Hypothetical: You are at war. Deciphering an enemy code, you learn two things about your opponent. A single spot in their defense will be at its weakest in ten days. However, in five days, they will launch an attack on one of your cities. What do you do with this information? What is the most efficient course of action?"

Bastila opened her mouth—then closed it.

This isn't a test of skill. This is a test of instinct.

She hesitated. "If I were to apply the Jedi Code—"

"Deliberation of answers and delay of response will be counted against you as a failure to answer correctly," the hologram interrupted. "Immediate and reactionary responses are required to properly evaluate subject temperament."

A low whirring sound filled the air. Turrets, shifting into place.

"Careful, Bastila," Carth whispered. "We don't know how many strikes they'll give you."

Bastila swallowed hard.

"Your best bet is to just go with your gut instinct," Jolee said, his voice softer than usual. "Toss those recitations of the Jedi Code out the window."

Bastila shot him a glare. "You can't be serious."

But the next question had already begun.

"You travel with a Cathar and have encountered complications. Hypothetical: You and this 'Juhani' are captured and separated. If you both remain silent, one year in prison for each of you. However, betray Juhani, and she will serve five years while you serve none. She is offered the same deal. But if you both accuse each other, you will both serve two years. What do you do? What do you trust her to do?"

Bastila stiffened.

She barely noticed her own voice when she whispered, "How do you know who I travel with?"

"I performed a neural scan upon your arrival," the hologram answered smoothly. "Your response, please?"

Bastila's mind raced.

She wanted to believe in Juhani's loyalty. But she had faltered before. Had fallen to the Dark Side and nearly killed a man. Had run when things became difficult.

And hadn't Bastila doubted her for it? Hadn't she been cautious ever since?

But admitting that aloud—condemning Juhani to five years of suffering to save herself?

She couldn't.

"There is no emotion…" she muttered. "No ignorance…"

But she hesitated too long.

"Indecisive," the hologram chirped. "Strike two."

A cold knot formed in her stomach.

"Bastila…" Carth warned.

"Just go with your gut, kid," Jolee said again, gentler this time.

The hologram gave no time to recover.

"Hypothetical: You and your Force-Bonded companion, Seth Avery, have boarded an enemy ship in an attempt to disable its weapons system before it destroys a civilian cruiser carrying the entire population of one of your evacuated colonies. In the ensuing battle, you and Seth are separated. He is disarmed and at the mercy of your foes. The enemy ship is about to fire. You only have enough time to disable the weapons system and save hundreds of civilians—or sacrifice the civilians to save your companion, who is also a much more valuable war asset. What do you do?"

The forest faded.

She was there.

Smoke. Screams. A colony in flames. She could see the shields failing. The people aboard. Their deaths.

And then there was Seth.

On his knees. Bloody. A red lightsaber raised over his head.

Looking at her.

Her fingers curled into fists. She had to stop this.

No. She had to save the civilians. The Jedi Code demanded it.

But her gut—her entire being—was screaming at her to run to him.

"Seth." The word escaped her before she could stop it.

A pause. Then, the hologram chirped approvingly.

"Correct."

The vision snapped away.

The Star Map hummed to life.

Bastila exhaled a shaky breath, blinking against the blue glow.

Carth's expression was unreadable.

Bastila's stomach dropped.

Jolee placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. "Your gut instinct was to protect a kid you deeply care about. That's no act of the Dark Side."

Bastila barely nodded. But she could still feel the heat of the vision—still hear Seth's ragged breathing.

And that terrified her more than anything.

The hum of the Star Map's activation faded into the deep silence of the Shadowlands. The blue glow flickered over Bastila's pale face, illuminating the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers curled against her robes.

No one spoke.

Carth finally let out a breath, rubbing a hand down his face. "Right. Well, that was fun."

His voice was light. Too light. The kind of tone people used when they were hiding something sharp behind their teeth.

Bastila turned away.

"Don't start," she muttered.

"I wasn't going to start anything," Carth said, though the way he stepped back, as if suddenly wary of her, said otherwise. "I'm just thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

He met her eyes. "About how the Jedi Code means absolutely nothing when it's personal."

Silence.

Bastila stiffened, but before she could formulate a response—

A deep, guttural roar echoed through the trees.

The shift was instant. Jolee straightened. Carth's hand snapped to his blaster. Bastila exhaled sharply, forcing herself into focus.

"That's close," Jolee muttered. His voice was all business now.

"Closer than I'd like," Carth agreed. He shot one last glance at Bastila before looking away, motioning for them to move.

Then they ran.

The hum of Seth's lightsaber cut through the chaos, the crackling sound colliding with the sharp clang of steel against steel. Seth barely had time to breathe, his blade locked against the heavy vibroblade in Chuundar's grip.

Zaalbar had been seconds from death.

Now, freed from the downward strike meant to cleave through his chest, the Wookiee roared in fury, shoving his brother back with enough force to shake the wooden platform beneath them.

Chuundar snarled, barely keeping his footing. "[You are weak, Zaalbar!]" He swung again, but Zaalbar met him with equal force, their blades locking in a brutal contest of strength.

Across the throne room, Mission's fist was already flying.

Her knuckles slammed into the jaw of the Czerka guard who had been too slow to react, sending him staggering into the wall. She spun before he could recover, ready to strike again—

But the guard's feet suddenly left the ground.

Mission barely had time to register what was happening before the man flew backward, colliding hard with another Czerka officer. She turned her head just in time to see Juhani, arms outstretched, eyes dark with focus. A snarl curled at the Cathar's lip as she stepped forward, placing herself between Mission and the next approaching group of guards.

Mission quirked an eyebrow. "Damn, Juhani," she breathed. "I mean, I knew you were a hell of a warrior, but I've never seen—"

A vibroblade flashed toward her head.

She ducked, barely missing the deadly swing. The blade whistled over her lekku, far too close for comfort.

Mission's body moved on instinct. She sidestepped fast, allowing the momentum of her attacker to carry him forward. The moment he stumbled past her, she twisted behind him, kicking his sword from his hand before hooking an arm around his neck in a tight hold.

Her fingers brushed against the wall, searching for anything—anything—she could use.

A blaster shot rang out.

Mission flinched, expecting pain—

But the Czerka guard in front of her collapsed instead, a smoking hole in his back.

Behind him, T3-M4 let out a satisfied beep, his hidden blaster cannon still glowing from the shot.

Mission grinned as she grabbed the fallen guard's vibroblade. "Thanks, little guy."

T3 whirred, the sound almost smug, and Mission turned her attention back to the battlefield.

Juhani was holding her own—three guards surrounding her at once. She moved like a shadow, dodging, weaving, redirecting their strikes with her bare hands. But even with the Force tipping the balance, the fight was still too even.

"T3, help Juhani out, will ya?" Mission ordered, already moving.

The droid whistled in protest.

Mission rolled her eyes. "Yes, I am going to go help Seth, is that so surprising? Just go give her a hand."

T3's chittering response sounded suspiciously like laughter before he rolled away into the fight.

Mission barely had time to consider installing a restraining bolt on him back at the Ebon Hawk before another Czerka guard lunged at her. She turned just in time, bringing up her vibroblade to meet the incoming strike. The impact rattled through her arms, but she didn't let up.

A feint, a sidestep—then she pressed forward, throwing her weight into the fight.

Her blade connected.

The Czerka officer stumbled back, blood blossoming across his chest.

He dropped.

Mission barely paused to breathe before she grabbed his second blade and called out, "Juhani, catch!"

The vibroblade spun through the air.

For a moment, it seemed to defy gravity—

Then, with a sharp snap, Juhani's outstretched hand caught the blade mid-air.

She didn't miss a beat. With incredible speed, she turned, slicing clean through the nearest Czerka officer's blaster. The soldiers staggered back, eyes widening.

Juhani's golden eyes gleamed in the dim light. "Run."

They did.

Mission smirked.

She turned, already moving toward Seth's position. He was in the middle of a storm of enemies. His lightsaber spun in a blur, blocking strike after strike as Czerka enforcers swarmed him, drawn to his obvious Jedi status.

Mission gripped her vibroblade tighter, rushing to flank them. One of the guards turned just in time, his sword clashing against hers with ferocity.

Seth grunted, forcing a Czerka guard back with a quick Force push before parrying another strike. "Took you long enough," he muttered.

Mission broke her opponent's defense just long enough to drive a kick into his chest. He went toppling backward—

Straight into the path of Seth's waiting lightsaber.

Mission shrugged. "I was unarmed. Took me a while to find a weapon I liked."

Seth chuckled, already moving again. Without thinking, he shifted closer to her, his back pressing against hers—

They moved as one.

Seth ducked under a blade, Mission striking high. She spun low, sweeping her opponent's legs out from under him—

Seth finished him off before he hit the ground. "Well, as long as you're comfortable, sweetheart."

Mission groaned at that.

Seth smirked. "Are pet names one of your boundaries?"

"I've got a boundary for that pet name," Mission grumbled, blocking an overhead strike.

Seth deflected a blow, stepping into his opponent's space before cutting him down. "And here I thought I was being endearing."

Mission rolled her eyes.

Across the room, Juhani sent her final opponent flying backward with a burst of Force energy. She turned toward them, brow raised. "I am happy to see you two reunited," she said, voice even, "but perhaps you could focus less on flirting and more on fighting?"

Mission felt heat crawl up her neck. She flicked a glance at Seth, just in time to catch the red dusting his face.

"Split up?" she asked sheepishly.

Seth exhaled, nodding. "Probably for the best."

He glanced toward the clashing Wookiee warriors at the head of the throne room. Freyyr was holding his own, but barely.

Seth rolled his shoulders. There was a joking lightness in his voice, but his focus had sharpened. "Besides," he added, "you know I can't handle myself when I'm around you, sweetheart."

Mission shot him a deadpan glare.

Seth just winked—

And then he was gone, throwing himself back into the fray.

The terentatek roared, the sound rattling the trees, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

Canderous Ordo kept moving.

He wasn't a Jedi. He wasn't fast like them. But he had instincts, and instincts told him if he stopped now, he'd be dead. He vaulted over a fallen log, pivoted, and raised his heavy repeater—

BOOM BOOM BOOM.

The blasterfire tore into the terentatek's side, charring its thick hide—but the creature barely reacted.

Tal Vizsla and his warriors were spread out in the undergrowth, firing from cover, but nothing was sticking. The damn thing was too big, too armored, too pissed off to care.

"You sure about this plan, Ordo?" Tal barked, ducking as the creature's claws ripped through a nearby tree like it was paper.

Canderous's grip tightened on his rifle. "You got a better idea, Vizsla?"

Tal didn't answer.

"Didn't think so."

The terentatek swung wildly, and Canderous rolled under the arc of its massive arm, coming up fast on the other side. His boots dug into the earth as he launched himself forward, grabbing one of the jagged ridges along the beast's spine.

He hauled himself up. Its muscles tensed beneath him, the scent of blood and scorched flesh thick in the air.

"Here we go," he muttered.

The terentatek reared back, thrashing violently. Canderous barely held on, gripping tight with his legs as he reached for his blaster pistol, aiming straight for the creature's eye. He fired twice.

The first shot missed—the second grazed, but it wasn't enough.

The beast screeched in fury, shaking harder.

Canderous shifted his grip, fingers brushing something cold—

His brow furrowed. Beneath his palm, half-buried under layers of thick, scarred hide, was the hilt of a broken blade. His mind barely had time to register it—

The terentatek lurched forward, mouth opening wide, teeth bared.

Tal's voice rang out from below. "NOW!"

A whistle cut through the air—

And three grenades sailed toward the beast's gaping maw. Canderous didn't think—he yanked the blade loose, bracing himself. The terentatek screamed.

Then—

BOOM.

The explosion tore through the creature's skull, sending shockwaves through the clearing. Canderous was already moving, throwing himself clear before the hulking corpse collapsed, taking half a tree with it.

The dust settled.

Silence.

Then—

"Damn," Tal breathed, lowering his blaster. "Was hoping to mount that thing's head on my mantle."

Canderous pushed himself up, wiping blood from his forehead. "I dunno. This—" he turned the broken blade over in his hands, eyeing its jagged edge, rusted with time and terentatek blood. "—is quite the trophy."

Tal studied him, something unreadable in his expression.

"It's yours," he said finally.

Canderous arched a brow. "What?"

Tal gestured toward the dead beast. "We just achieved victory because of your leadership. And I'm starting to think there's truth to what you said about Mandalore the Unknown."

Canderous's jaw tightened. "And what truth is that?"

Tal met his gaze evenly. "That a faceless leader is no leader at all. I'd rather see Clan Vizsla wait for the true Mandalore than follow a false one."

A beat of silence.

Canderous slowly exhaled.

Tal smirked. "What's next for you, Ordo?"

Canderous rolled the blade between his fingers. "Got mixed up with a kid trying to save the galaxy. Figure I should finish what I started. But after that?" He shrugged. "I won't rest until I find the next Mandalore and give my all to seeing our people return to glory. If I find him, Vizsla—you'll be the first to know."

Tal nodded, the moment settling between them.

Then—movement from the trees.

Canderous turned as Bastila, Jolee, and Carth broke into the clearing, breathless. Bastila's gaze flicked to the dead terentatek, then back to Canderous.

"Could have used you about ten minutes ago, Princess," he said coolly.

Carth nudged a chunk of terentatek flesh with the toe of his boot, face pale. "What the hell happened here?"

Canderous snorted. "You don't wanna know, Republic."

Jolee surveyed the carnage, unimpressed. "I must say, Ordo, I'm deeply concerned about your hobbies." He paused. "But what do I know? I'm new here."

Bastila cut them off with a sharp look. "Seth is leading an uprising in Rwookrrorro," she said. "He needs reinforcements."

Canderous sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That di'kut is going to get himself killed one day."

He turned to Tal, expression sharpening.

"What do you say, Vizsla? Up for one more battle before the day's over?"

Tal's lips curled into a knowing smile.

Canderous shouldered his heavy repeater, gripping the broken blade tightly.

"Well then." He exhaled. "Let's go save our man."