The screaming wind tore at his heavy dark cloak as Maul stood motionless atop the roof of the speeding transit train. The metal beneath his cybernetic boots vibrated violently, a frantic rhythm that matched the desperate hunt unfolding just below him. ​ He had been tracking the distinctive Imperial signature of the Inquisitor, Marrok, curious as to what had drawn one of Palpatine’s hounds so deep into this outer sector. Peering down through the shattered glass of a skylight, Maul found his answer. ​You. ​ You were backed into the far corner of the train car, cornered like a wounded animal. Maul’s golden-yellow eyes narrowed as he observed the scene. You were breathing heavily, hands trembling as you reached out, desperately trying to muster the Force against a vastly superior foe. To Maul’s refined senses, your connection to the Force was unrefined, chaotic, and dripping with panic—but the raw power rolling off you in waves was undeniable. It practically sang through the currents of the dark side. ​ Marrok stalked forward, his faceless, rusted helmet gleaming under the dim, flickering cabin lights. With a mechanical hiss, the Inquisitor ignited his crimson, double-bladed lightsaber, the weapon spinning in a deadly, hypnotic arc as he prepared to deliver the final strike.

​You had no idea a far greater shadow was watching over you