Seth exhaled sharply, gripping his deactivated lightsaber as he nudged a smoldering kinrath carcass with his boot. The nightmare creature twitched one last time, its gangly legs curled in on themselves, and he fought the urge to shudder.

This planet was alive in a way no place he'd ever been was alive. Not in the bustling, artificial heartbeat of Coruscant, or the rust-choked streets of Taris, or even the endless ocean of Manaan. Kashyyyk breathed. The thick, ancient jungle pulsed with movement—predators lurking unseen, waiting.

And they hadn't even reached the forest floor yet.

"This place is a damn death trap," Carth muttered, shaking kinrath slime from his boot. "I've been in warzones with fewer ambushes."

"Your Republic warzones don't breed real warriors," Canderous scoffed. He tapped his repeater against his shoulder, smirking. "You get soft behind your blaster turrets and your shields. Maybe you need a real fight to keep you sharp."

Carth huffed, leveling him with a glare. "You Mandos think 'real fights' mean getting your face beaten into the dirt."

Canderous grinned. "Exactly."

Mission snorted, barely suppressing a laugh as she holstered her blaster. "I swear, you two should get married already."

Carth gave her a flat look, and Canderous laughed outright. "Kid, I'd sooner kiss a kath hound."

"Kriff, please don't," Seth deadpanned. "I'd like to keep my breakfast down."

Mission giggled, clearly enjoying herself despite the tension. If a couple of terrifying jungle spiders didn't ruin her sense of humor, nothing would.

But not everyone was amused.

Zaalbar had been silent the entire walk.

He'd pulled ahead of the group after the kinrath attack, his broad shoulders tense, claws flexing at his sides. He barely even reacted to the banter, which wasn't like him.

Seth glanced at Bastila, who'd also noticed. She frowned slightly before speaking up. "Zaalbar, if something is troubling you, we can—"

"[We are close to the village]" Zaalbar interrupted, his deep growl final, clipped. He didn't look back.

Bastila hesitated, then nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Seth felt the tension thickening between them, the unspoken weight of whatever was waiting for Zaalbar ahead. He cast a sidelong glance at Bastila, catching the quiet understanding in her expression.

Whatever this was, it wasn't small.

Bastila met his gaze, as if acknowledging the thought.

Seth sighed. "This whole 'ancient jungle full of monsters and deeply personal Wookiee turmoil' thing is shaping up to be a real fun time."

Bastila sighed as well. "I'm sure your levity will serve us all well in these dire circumstances."

"Hey, gotta keep things light. Otherwise, we'll just be stressed and miserable all the time. And I'd hate for your face to get stuck like that."

Bastila rolled her eyes. "You are insufferable."

"You love me."

She actually hesitated, the briefest flicker of something guarded in her eyes before she exhaled sharply. "There is no love. There is only the Force."

Seth smirked, crossing his arms. "Nice deflection."

Bastila scowled, but he caught the barest hint of amusement as she looked away.

"Regardless," she continued, recovering her composure, "we should all be mindful. The Wookiees are not as welcoming as some might assume."

Seth gave her a sideways glance. "Bastila, when have we ever assumed people would be welcoming?"

She actually considered that for a moment before sighing. "Point taken."

They pressed on, following Zaalbar's lead.

Seth rolled his shoulders, casting one last glance up at the impossibly tall trees stretching into the sky.

Kashyyyk felt old. Older than Coruscant, older than the Republic itself. The trees whispered, the wind shifting through them like voices in the dark.

And for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that this planet had its own plans for them.

The moment they entered the village, Seth felt it.

Not outright hostility. But something close.

Everywhere, Wookiees turned to watch. Their massive forms were silent, their eyes sharp. Low, guttural growls rumbled from the crowd—not loud enough to challenge, but unmistakable.

Mission shifted uneasily, sticking close to Zaalbar's side. "Uh, Big Z? Why do I feel like everyone here wants to skin us?"

Zaalbar didn't answer.

His footsteps slowed. His posture stiffened.

And then Seth saw why.

At the center of the village—seated on an elevated throne of carved wood and reinforced metal—was another Wookiee.

Dark-furred. Broad-shouldered. Eyes full of cold amusement.

Chuundar.

Zaalbar froze. His breathing turned shallow, uneven.

"[Well, well, well]" Chuundar drawled, resting an elbow on the arm of his throne. "[Look what's crawled back from exile.]"

Seth felt the shift.

Zaalbar was trembling.

Not with fear.

With rage.

"[You dare sit in our father's place?]"

Chuundar just smirked, lazy and unbothered. "[He left it open for me. Not that he had a choice.]"

Zaalbar's hands clenched around his bowcaster. "[What happened to him?]"

For the first time, Chuundar's smirk widened.

He leaned forward, eyes glinting.

"[He's dead.]"

Mission sucked in a breath.

Zaalbar didn't move.

"[He wasted away]" Chuundar continued, tone mocking. "[Heartbroken over his failure of a son.]"

That did it.

Zaalbar lunged.

Seth barely had time to react before Mission was already moving—a small hand gripping Zaalbar's forearm.

She didn't say a word.

Just held him steady.

His breathing was ragged. His hands shook. But slowly… he stopped.

Chuundar watched the moment with clear amusement. "[So, you haven't completely lost control. A pity. I was hoping I'd get to put you down.]"

Seth narrowed his eyes. "You call this leadership? Selling out your own people?"

Chuundar laughed. "[Selling them out? No, no, no. You're thinking small, outsider. I call this… the future. Wookiees were meant to serve. I just happen to be the first one smart enough to profit from it.]"

Mission's grip tightened.

Seth could feel the anger radiating off her—barely restrained.

Chuundar just tilted his head. "[But I assume you didn't come here just to exchange pleasantries.]"

Seth kept his expression neutral. "We need access to the Shadowlands."

Chuundar exhaled dramatically, leaning back. "[Ah, so you do have a purpose. Good.]"

He waved a lazy hand. "[Fine. You can go. But first, I need a favor.]"

Bastila's brow furrowed. "What kind of favor?"

Chuundar's smirk returned.

"[There's a Wookiee in the Shadowlands. An exile.]" His tone dripped with amusement. "[He's been spreading lies about me. Agitating my people. I want him gone.]"

Seth stiffened.

"Define 'gone.'"

Chuundar shrugged. "[Dead works.]"

Mission snapped. "You want us to assassinate some guy just because he doesn't like you?!"

"[I want peace in my village]" Chuundar corrected, oh-so-casually. "[How you achieve that peace is up to you.]"

Seth felt his jaw clench.

And then Chuundar smiled.

"[Oh, and one more thing.]"

He raised a clawed hand—and the guards surrounding the throne stepped forward.

"[If you refuse]" Chuundar said smoothly, "[your Mad-Claw stays here. Consider him my guest.]"

Zaalbar went rigid.

Mission's outrage was immediate. She surged forward, trying to step between them—but Seth caught her around the waist, pulling her back.

"Not now," he murmured.

She struggled for a second, before hissing through her teeth, "You better have a plan."

Seth forced himself to breathe. "Fine."

Chuundar's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

"But," Seth continued smoothly, his voice hardening, "We don't leave people behind alone. You want Zaalbar to stay? One of us stays, too."

Chuundar arched a brow ridge.

"[You think you can negotiate?]"

Seth held his ground. "I think you want this done quickly. And if we're worried about what's happening to our friend while we're gone, we'll take our time. You let one of us stay? We move faster."

Chuundar was quiet for a long moment.

Then—he chuckled. "[Fine. But choose wisely.]"

Zaalbar's head lowered in shame.

The weight in the room was crushing. The air thick with tension.

And then—Mission stepped forward.

"Fine." Her voice was sharp. Certain. "Then I stay."

Seth wasn't surprised.

Chuundar's amusement didn't waver. "[Touching. But one guest was enough. I don't have the hospitality for two.]"

Mission's fists clenched. "I'm not a guest. I'm his friend. You're not keeping him alone."

Seth exhaled through his nose. "She's right. She stays."

Mission didn't look at him. She kept her eyes locked on Chuundar—shoulders squared, chin high. But he saw the way her knuckles loosened slightly. The way her breath steadied.

Zaalbar let out a low, conflicted growl. "[Mission, you don't have to—]"

She shot him a look.

Zaalbar closed his mouth.

Seth glanced at T3. "He stays, too. You lay a hand on either of them, and you're getting a bolt to the knee."

The little astromech let out a defiant bleep.

"[Charming]" Chuundar said dryly. "[But a Jedi stays as well.]"

Bastila folded her arms. "Why?"

"[Because if you step out of line, someone needs to answer for it. If I execute one of you in response, I want it to matter.]"

A cold fury coiled in Seth's gut. "Then I'll stay."

Mission's head whipped toward him. "Seth, no!"

Bastila cut in before Mission could continue. "You can't. You and I are the only ones who have seen the Star Map in our visions. We need to be the ones searching for it."

Seth felt his stomach turn. He hated that she was right.

Juhani stepped forward. "I will stay in his place."

She gave Seth the tiniest, imperceptible nod as he locked eyes with her. He nodded back, a whispered "thanks" on his lips.

The others had already moved ahead. The conversation about who stayed, who went had ended. The decision was made.

But Mission wasn't moving. Seth turned back to see her standing rigid in place, arms wrapped tight around herself like she was holding something back.

He sighed softly, stepping toward her. "Mish—"

She shook her head.

And then she was on him. Her arms locked around him, pressing herself against his chest as though if she held on tight enough, long enough, he wouldn't be able to leave. Not romantic. Not gentle. Just fierce. Protective. Grounding.

Seth didn't hesitate. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close—his hand running gently up and down her back.

She was shaking.

And then, so softly, he barely heard it:

"Why do you keep putting me in positions where I feel like I'm saying goodbye for the last time?"

Seth's throat tightened.

He rested his chin against the top of her head, closing his eyes.

"I'm coming back, Mish. That's a promise."

She gave a small, shaky laugh, her fingers tightening in the fabric of his jacket. "Damn right you are," she whispered. "You owe me a rematch in Pazaak."

Seth grinned, but it wasn't cocky. It wasn't teasing. His hands still lingered on her waist—like he didn't want to pull away.

Mission pulled back just slightly, peering up at him with those deep, unreadable hazel eyes.

And then—just a breath of movement, she rose on her toes and brushed her lips against his jawline.

Not a kiss. Just a ghost of a touch.

She smirked—her way of masking everything else. "Get going, Hotshot."

Seth exhaled sharply.

Then he turned. Zaalbar hadn't spoken since Chuundar took him. He stood stiff, squared shoulders holding too much weight.

He looked smaller somehow. Less like the unstoppable Wookiee warrior Seth had fought beside, and more like someone trapped.

Seth stepped toward him, placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Zaalbar bowed his head, his breath coming in slow, measured rumbles. And then, in a whisper so quiet, it barely carried over the wind—

"[If I had another life to swear, it would be to you.]"

Seth swallowed hard, nodding. His voice was low, just between them. "You swore your life to her first. And I trust you'll honor it."

Zaalbar's chest rumbled with emotion.

"But if I don't make it back… promise me you won't let her carry that weight alone."

The Wookiee closed his massive, clawed hands into fists. Then, slowly, he nodded. No dramatic oath. No drawn-out words.

Just a vow. A truth.

They clasped forearms, Seth's smaller hand gripping the furred strength of the Wookiee's.

A silent promise.

And then Seth was gone.

Into the Shadowlands.