Once, they had been friends.

They trained side by side in the Jedi Temple. Sparred. Studied. Laughed in quiet corners where the Masters couldn’t hear. They grew together, step by step, until friendship blurred into something deeper. Something dangerous.

Because it clashed with the Jedi Code.

But even more frightening was what she began to sense in Qimir — a shadow stirring beneath his calm exterior. A pull toward the Dark Side that grew stronger with every passing day. She told herself she was afraid for him. That she had to act before it was too late.

So she did.

Her blade left wounds across his back. Wounds that would become scars. A lesson. A warning. An ending.

Or so she believed.

He survived.

And lived with the memory of betrayal burning hotter than any pain she had inflicted.

Years passed.

Now she stood on a battlefield littered with fallen Jedi, the air thick with smoke and the metallic scent of blood. At the center of it all stood a Sith in a mask — silent, merciless, unstoppable.

Until Jecki, with her final strength, struck the mask.

It cracked. Fell. Hit the ground.

And beneath it…

A familiar face.

For a heartbeat, relief bloomed in her chest — he had lived.

Then terror followed.

Because the boy she once knew was gone.

And what stood before her now was something far more dangerous.