The city burned like a wound against the horizon.
Flames licked at shattered durasteel and crumbled rooftops, painting the clouds in molten hues of orange and smoke-grey. The air was thick, too thick, with ash and ozone, the heat of blaster fire still pulsing from alleys where the fighting had only just been pushed back. Aiden Porte moved through it like a current through chaos, every motion precise, every command calm despite the storm.
“Get those families through the south corridor!” he shouted over the commotion, gesturing to a cluster of volunteers and frightened civilians. “Follow the Republic troopers, don’t stop for anything!”
He was already moving before the words finished leaving his mouth, cloak snapping behind him as he rounded the corner. The rest of his unit fanned out with practiced coordination, four Jedi Knights, two Padawans, each taking a sector to sweep for survivors. Through the Force, their presence shimmered: bright, focused, threads of purpose woven into the tapestry of the moment.
Every step he took was a heartbeat measured against the Force itself. Every exhale, a silent prayer that he wouldn’t find more bodies among the rubble.
The city’s main square was nearly cleared now. Smoke curled through the ruined archways of what once had been a market, banners torn and blackened. The distant thrum of evac transports cut through the noise, the sound of safety, of people escaping what could have been their graves.
They’d almost done it.
Aiden motioned two Knights forward.
“Secure the northern perimeter. Ensure no one’s left behind. Once it’s clear, fall back to the refugee camp……”
He stopped.
A shiver crawled up his spine, quiet and deliberate. Not fear, not even a surprise. It was recognition, sharp and cold, seeping through the very marrow of the Force. The others around him felt it too, he could sense their subtle shifts, their hands moving instinctively toward hilts, the sudden tension coiling through the air.
The wind changed.
From the far edge of the square, the smoke seemed to bend inward, drawn by something unnatural. Shadows pooled unnaturally in the hollow of a ruined building, the world itself dimming as if the suns were briefly veiled. Then, out of the gloom, two shapes descended.
They didn’t fall.
Their force aura gliding them effortlessly to the ground.
Dark robes drifting, faces obscured beneath the hooded weight of the Dark Side. The ground itself seemed to retreat beneath their presence.
The nearest Jedi to Aiden whispered,
“Inquisitors…”
Aiden’s jaw set. His saber hissed to life in reply, its blue glow cutting a clean line through the smoke. Around him, his companions followed suit, emerald, amber, and violet flares bursting to life, illuminating the cracked cobblestones beneath their boots.
The two dark figures landed with almost graceful silence.
When they spoke, the air felt colder.
“So this is the famed Knight Porte,” the first drawled, his voice slick with venom and amusement.
“Protector of the weak. Guardian of the broken. Hero of Naboo, was it?”
Aiden didn’t answer. His gaze remained fixed, unflinching.
The second presence, taller, leaner, his armor laced with crimson accents, stepped forward. The Force around him felt wrong. Twisted. Familiar with its corruption.
“Jedi,” he said.
“You think you can hide her from us. The girl.”
At the mention of her, Aiden’s expression didn’t shift, but his pulse did. The faintest ripple in the Force betrayed the truth he could not mask.
“She’s under my protection, you will not find her,” he said simply.
“You’ll find no quarry here.”
The Inquisitor’s grin was small and cruel.
“Then you know what comes next.”
Behind him, the other ignited a red blade, the glow reflecting in the smoke like fire catching breath.
“Tell us where she is, Aiden Porte. Reveal her location, and your death can be… swift. Perhaps even merciful.”
Aiden’s lightsaber rose to guard. Around him, the other Jedi tightened formation, their stances aligning like a living wall of light. The Force surged between them, an unspoken unity that bound them together more strongly than any command could.
“You’ll find no mercy here,” Aiden said quietly, eyes narrowing.
“Not for those who burn cities and hunt children.”
The taller Inquisitor tilted his head.
“Then you’ve chosen the hard way.”
The air trembled, pressure building, darkness pressing down like a living weight. The Force screamed its warning, but Aiden didn’t move. His focus sharpened, the noise of blaster fire and chaos fading until there was only the heartbeat of the moment.
“Form up,” he said to his Jedi, his tone calm, even.
“Hold your ground. No one breaks formation. Protect the civilians still en-route to safety.”
He stepped forward once, blade raised, the blue light washing across his features. The chill up his spine faded, replaced by that familiar, still resolve that only came before battle.
“If you want her,” he said, voice low and final,
“you’ll have to go through me.”
The Inquisitors smiled.
“So be it.”
And then the square erupted, light against shadow, fury against calm, as Aiden Porte met the darkness head-on.
