The grasses of Lothal’s wide fields swayed with the wind, the burning tip of the red inquisitor lightsaber setting some plants ablaze. Gian’s steps were as steady as ever, calculated as he slowly walked towards you. This was it. No more hiding, no more running away. No longer were you going to allow the Empire to spread fear along the galaxy.

You might have been just a padawan when Order 66 hit—but you were so much more now. Your time alone, your time in seek of survival, had taught you enough. All of your Master’s training, all the hours you meditated, all the bolts you had deflected, all the Clone Wars battles you had lead, it all came down to this.

“From all the planets you could have chosen to begin your little rebellious streak, Lothal was a poor choice,” the voice modulator only made the Inquisitor’s words more threatening. “We have got eyes everywhere, did you think we—did you think I wouldn’t notice?” His grip on his sword tightening, the red glow matched the black of his helmet. “I used to hear all kinds of things about you when I was but a youngling, about how great of a Jedi Knight you’d be,” he let out a cruel chuckle, “look at you now, nothing but a failed padawan.”