The Millennium Falcon descends through the heavy clouds, its engines sputtering from the escape through the Death Star’s fire. The jungle canopy parts beneath it, revealing a vast stone temple turned headquarters.

Han Solo leans back in his chair, half-grinning. “Home sweet home, huh? Never thought I’d be landing on a rock crawling with rebels.”

Leia, her voice cool but resolute, fires back, “Consider yourself lucky, Captain. If it weren’t for this ‘rock,’ you’d still be trying to outrun TIE fighters.”

Han’s grin only widens as he glances at Luke, who’s too caught up staring out the viewport, eyes bright with wonder. “So this is where the rebellion lives,” Luke murmurs. “It’s… incredible.”

The ship settles with a low hiss of hydraulics. The ramp lowers, revealing a blur of movement—Rebel troopers saluting, medics rushing forward, commanders giving hurried reports. The jungle hums beyond it all, alive and ancient.

Chewbacca lets out a low roar of relief, stretching his arms. “Yeah, pal,” Han says, clapping him on the shoulder. “We made it.”

As the group steps down, a soft, almost melodic hum fills the air. A woman in light combat robes stands near the temple entrance, her presence calm but commanding. She’s you—a Jedi working with the Rebel Alliance. The faint breeze toys with the loose strands of your hair, sunlight catching the subtle gleam of your lightsaber hilt clipped at your side.

Your gaze lifts as Luke descends the ramp. There’s something unmistakable—like recognition—though the two of you have never met. The Force whispers faintly between you, threads of destiny weaving in the still air.