The halls of the Inquisitorius were as cold as the space beyond its steel walls, their narrow corridors pulsing with a muted red glow. Na'la moved briskly through the passageways, her steps quick but measured, blending in with the flow of officers and stormtroopers. There had been an unusual influx of personnel recently—more officers from other sectors, more troopers patrolling, more whispers exchanged in the dark corners of the base. She could sense it, feel the shift in the air.

The Rebellion was growing bolder. And behind it, as always, the lingering presence of the Jedi.

Na’la’s lekku twitched nervously as she passed a squadron of troopers in full armor, their white helmets gleaming under the lights. They spoke in low voices, but she caught a few words—Rebellion, Jedi, terrorists. The Empire’s stronghold was tightening, and the tension among its ranks was becoming palpable. Na'la knew what the increased presence meant: the Jedi were still out there, moving in the shadows, plotting against the Empire, undermining everything they had built.

A soft hiss accompanied the sliding doors as she entered a quieter section of the base. Her mind drifted, unbidden, to memories long buried—of her home, the village that no longer existed.

She had been little more than a child when it happened, back on her homeworld of Shili. The crash had torn the sky apart—fire and metal raining down as a burning ship careened through the clouds and slammed into the ground just beyond the village's edge. She remembered the screams, the acrid smell of smoke and flesh, the desperate scramble to find shelter. But shelter hadn’t come. Nothing had.

When the flames finally died, there had been nothing left of her village but rubble and ash.

Na’la had been the only one to survive. And when she’d crawled toward the wreckage, body bruised, eyes stinging from tears and smoke, she had seen it—engraved in the hull of the downed ship.

A Jedi insignia.

The ship had belonged to them, to the self-righteous warriors of light who had claimed to be protectors of peace. Na'la clenched her fists as she walked, her pace quickening as the anger gnawed at her like an old wound. She had learned later that the ship had been on a mission, a so-called noble quest to aid a distant world. But it hadn’t been the Jedi who had come to Shili’s aid after the destruction.

It had been the Empire.

The Empire had found her, a lone survivor clinging to the edge of life. They had taken her in, given her food, shelter, and the promise of vengeance. And vengeance had been the only thing she wanted—the only thing that had kept her going. The Jedi had taken everything from her, carelessly crashing into her world and leaving only death in their wake. The hatred burned inside her like a flame that would never extinguish.

Now, she served the Empire with absolute loyalty. With every order she followed, every task she completed for the Empire’s great machine, she was one step closer to seeing the Jedi wiped out completely. It was a promise she had made to herself long ago—a vow of destruction against the careless peacekeepers who had ruined her life.

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Na'la stepped into an elevator, watching the floors blur past as the compartment descended deeper into the heart of the base. Her duties as Cassandra’s assistant were endless, but she carried them out with an almost religious fervor. Cassandra was power incarnate, a force of the Dark Side as ruthless as she was cunning, and Na’la respected that power. She feared it, too, of course—everyone did. But there was something about serving Cassandra, about being in the orbit of someone so unyielding, that filled Na’la with a grim satisfaction.

As the doors slid open, she found herself in the officers’ wing. A small cluster of men in gray uniforms stood to the side, murmuring to each other. Their conversation was too quiet to catch, but she heard enough to pick up on their topic.

"The Emperor…," one of them was saying, his voice carrying an edge of nervousness. "You think he knows about—"

Na'la’s eyes narrowed. She marched over to them without hesitation, her voice sharp as she interrupted.

"You will not speak of the Emperor so carelessly in these halls," she snapped. The officers stiffened immediately, one of them paling visibly as they straightened their posture. "Your idle gossip will get you killed faster than any rebel ambush. Show some respect."

One of the officers, older and more seasoned than the others, gave a quick nod. "Apologies, Na'la. We meant no disrespect."

"Then stop talking," she said coldly, her eyes narrowing with the authority she borrowed from Cassandra’s power. "Do your jobs. The Emperor is not to be discussed, especially not by the likes of you."

Without waiting for their response, Na'la turned and continued down the hall, leaving the officers behind in uncomfortable silence. The Emperor’s presence in the Empire was like a dark cloud—a force so overwhelming that to speak of him too freely was to invite danger. Na’la, like most of the others, had never seen the Emperor directly. His influence reached through layers of command, his will felt in every directive, every decision. His silence was louder than any command. He was not a figure to be trifled with or speculated about.

She knew this better than most.

Her datapad vibrated against her side. Na’la stopped in her tracks and glanced down, frowning as she saw the Imperial insignia flash across the screen. It was an encrypted message—urgent. Her heart skipped a beat. When she opened it, she saw the Emperor’s seal at the top.

Her breath caught. She blinked once, twice, rereading the message. It was short. Too short.

But it was enough to make her stomach turn with anger.

Her mind raced as she hurried toward Cassandra’s private chamber. The weight of the message pressed on her, though she could not dare speak of it aloud. The Emperor’s commands were never questioned, and this one was no different. What had she been pulled into? Why had she received this directly? It didn’t matter though, to receive such a request, it was almost as if the Emperor knew.

The door to Cassandra’s chamber loomed ahead, the silent red light glowing above it. Na’la could feel the power radiating from beyond, even before the door opened. She knew Cassandra would be able to sense her hatred, to feel the negativity in the air.

She couldn’t let her fear show. Not here. Not now.

Taking a steadying breath, Na'la straightened her back and approached the door, the Emperor's message weighing heavily in her hand. Whatever it was, Cassandra would need to know now.

But as Na'la raised her hand to the door's panel, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this request was something more.