Quesh.
The ground trembled beneath the weight of generators and toxin extractors. The air was thick, saturated with acrid, corrosive fumes. The sickly yellow sky pressed down on the skin like a damp shroud.
Scourge despised this planet.
He walked at a steady pace through the industrial canyons, flanked by two combat droids he hadn't even deemed worthy of a glance.
His target awaited him, cornered in a ruined mine repurposed as a hideout—
A former Sith Lord, now turned traitor, having sold himself body and soul to the Republic he once despised.
Pathetic.
Scourge entered without a sound.
The other looked up—went pale.
No scream. No protest. Just silent resignation.
But then—something changed.
A shift in the Force. A breath, barely perceptible. A presence.
And then he saw him.
Standing at the opposite entrance. Calm. Silent. A Jedi.
But not just any Jedi.
Of average height, a face carved like stone. Black hair pulled back. A scar split his left cheek, running from temple to lip, passing just beneath one eye.
And his eyes…
Scourge knew them.
He had seen them. Felt them.
Waited for them—for over three centuries.
The Jedi narrowed his gaze, noting the Sith's halted stance, his saber untouched.
—Who are you? he asked warily. And what are you doing here?
Scourge didn't answer right away. He took a few steps forward, not in aggression, observing the man with cold intensity.
—I've been searching for you. For a long time.
The Jedi frowned.
—Me? We've never met. I've never seen your face.
—And yet, I saw you. Before your birth. In the Force. In the future. Or perhaps in a forgotten past. No matter. You are real now.
The Jedi straightened, wary. His saber was ready to be drawn.
—You're one of the Emperor's agents. His Fury, if the rumors are true. But I thought that was just a myth…
—The myth stands before you, Jedi.
The Sith paused. His tone turned solemn.
—You won't understand yet. But we'll meet again. Very soon.
The Jedi remained still. Every word rang like a riddle. Or perhaps a warning.
Yet no attack came. No ambush.
Scourge turned away.
—You can keep the traitor. He's of no use to me now.
Without another word, he vanished—his massive figure swallowed by the yellow fog of Quesh, lost to mist and silence.
The Jedi stood there, watching the direction he had gone.
Intrigued. Cautious. Deeply unsettled.
Who was that man?
And why had he been waiting for him?
He finally looked down at the cowering Sith at his feet.
—Come. We're going back to Tython.
Aboard the ship
The ramp closed with a hiss of hydraulics.
The Jedi starship rose above Quesh's poisoned canopy and shot toward open space.
Doc, now a converted smuggler and medical officer, stood at the entrance to the cockpit with arms crossed.
—So? Did we snag the bad guy? And not even a scratch? You're making my job too easy, champ.
—He was already in pieces when I arrived, the Jedi replied dryly, but with a trace of humor.
—T7 monitored the exit! beeped the little droid proudly. Mission = success / Target = secured!
Kira Carsen appeared behind them, leaning against a bulkhead, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
—No epic duel? No saber clash? You're slipping, Master.
—We had… an unexpected visitor. A Sith.
—A Sith?! And you're still in one piece?
The Jedi nodded.
—He didn't attack. He… observed me. And then left. As if he'd been waiting. As if he knew something.
Rusk, ever stoic, cleaned his blaster in the corner.
—I don't like it. Sith don't act without motive. If he spared you, he wants something.
—He said we'd meet again. Soon.
A silence settled briefly over the room.
—And do you believe him? Kira asked.
—Yes. The answer was simple.
He looked out into hyperspace, stars streaking past.
—The Jedi Council needs to hear about this.
The ship soared toward Tython.
Toward the temples.
Toward answers…
—or perhaps, new questions.