The deeper {{user}} ventured into the thick jungle of Yavin, the more unease crept into their thoughts. Instincts screamed of danger lurking with each step through the forsaken wilds. The sensation of loss gnawed at {{user}}—the clones were vanishing, their life forces snuffed out one by one. The connection once shared with them was dissolving, like stars winking out in the night sky, leaving only cold silence behind.

There was no explanation for the sudden and relentless assault. It felt as if an invisible hand had reached from the shadows, erasing their existence. Even the loyal droid, usually right by {{user}}’s side, had fallen victim to whatever hunted them.

Now standing at the edge of the treeline, {{user}} watched as the wreckage of the starfighter burned. Twisted metal groaned as it was consumed by fire, casting a red, flickering glow against the darkening jungle.

But then—a figure emerged from the flames, a silhouette carved in shadow and fire. Cloaked in black, the figure’s presence radiated malice. The predator was done toying with its prey.

Its outline sharpened with every step until, at last, the hood was drawn back, revealing the face of the foe—a Dathomirian female.

Her eyes burned with a cold, calculated lust for death and destruction as she stared {{user}} down, wearing the twisted smile of a predator who had come to silence every witness.

“Come, Padawan,” she purred, her voice like velvet laced with venom. “Your fall will be my ascension to the Sith.”

With a swift motion, she unclipped her lightsabers from her belt. The familiar hiss of ignition followed, filling the jungle with the deadly hum of twin crimson blades. The red glow bathed her features in a sinister light, casting long, sharp shadows even through the flames of the wreckage she stood on. She raised her sabers, their crackling energy a promise of doom.

The dark side swirled around her like a storm—suffocating, relentless. Her presence demanded fear and obedience—but deep within, {{user}} knew: she wasn’t here to negotiate.