Private The Lonely Way

[Varek Ordo]

Varek Ordo's boots crunched against the frozen earth of the desolate moon, the wind howling through the jagged cliffs like a wounded animal. He adjusted the strap of his helmet, the weight of his beskar'gam never seeming to lessen despite the years of use. Every inch of it was scarred—battle marks, dents, and scratches that spoke of countless wars fought, countless lives lost, countless promises broken.

He was alone, and that was how he preferred it.

The horizon was a pale stretch of ice and stone, broken only by the shadow of the ancient temple he sought. His target had been here—he knew it from the trail left in the snow, the boot prints just deep enough to suggest urgency. The Empire had left their mark on this place. Their betrayal ran deep, and Varek had been tracking them for years. They had taken everything from him, and now he would return the favor.

As he neared the ruins, a flicker of motion caught his eye. Varek instinctively reached for the blaster holstered at his side, his grip tightening on the cold metal. His visor scanned the area, filtering out the snowstorm's white noise, honing in on the faintest of movements—a shadow passing through the doorway of the temple.

Without hesitation, he moved forward, his jetpack silently firing to lift him above the snowdrifts, allowing him to land with a soft thud on the temple's stone platform. His heart rate slowed as he crouched behind a pillar, eyes narrowing.

Varek had learned long ago to trust his instincts, and his instincts told him that whoever was inside this place was either a threat—or a key to unlocking the answers he had been chasing for so long.

His hand hovered over the thermal detonators at his belt, but he hesitated. The cold wind stung his face beneath the helmet, the familiar burn of battle readiness filling his veins. This wasn't just another contract. This wasn't some faceless target for credits. No. This was something deeper.

I am not here just for revenge, he reminded himself. I am here to end this cycle. To protect the way of Mandalore.

He paused, remembering the faces of the men and women who had fought beside him, the faces of his family, now lost to the sands of time and the Empire's iron grip. A bitter taste filled his mouth, and his hand tightened into a fist. They had been more than comrades—they had been his brothers and sisters. The Mandalorian bond that held them together was a chain he had carried with him long after their deaths.

His visor blinked red as his system picked up movement inside. There were at least two of them—Imperial soldiers by the looks of their energy signatures. Varek's heart quickened.

He wasn't sure why he'd come all this way for this. This wasn't a target that would bring him wealth or glory. He didn't care about that anymore. No, it was something more—something personal. Something that, once he ended it, would give him the peace he'd been chasing since the moment the Empire had razed his village.

The noise of the storm was deafening as he crept into the temple. His boots made no sound on the cold stone. He could hear their voices now—Imperial officers, arguing in low tones. They had no idea he was there. Varek let the stillness of the moment settle over him.

He would make it quick. There was no mercy for the Empire. Not now.

The doors to the inner sanctum slid open with a mechanical hiss. Varek moved in like a shadow, his blaster drawn in an instant. The soldiers turned, eyes widening as their weapons came up.

The first shot rang out before either man had the chance to speak. It wasn't even close. The bolt sizzled through the air, searing through one officer's chest. He fell with a guttural scream, hitting the ground with a wet thud.

The second officer barely reacted. His finger trembled on the trigger, but the blaster never had a chance to fire. Varek was already upon him, the vibroblade flashing in a blur. The soldier's eyes went wide in shock as the blade sank deep, cutting through armor and flesh alike.

He collapsed with a final, choking gasp.

Varek stood over the bodies for a moment, his chest heaving behind the armor. He wiped the blade clean and sheathed it, taking a step forward. The dim lights of the temple flickered overhead as his gaze scanned the room, his heart still pounding in his ears.

His mission was far from over. But each step forward was a step closer to something he could never have imagined—the redemption of his people, the restoration of Mandalore's pride. And with every mission, with every victory, he could feel the fire of vengeance slowly burning away, replaced by a colder, more calculated resolve.

This was the way.

 

[Varek Ordo]

Title: The Lone Way (continued)

The stillness of the temple was heavy, each footstep echoing off the ancient walls, reverberating through Varek's bones. His mind flicked over the soldiers he'd just ended. They were nothing. Just two more bodies in the growing list of casualties that he had become so used to seeing. But the icy cold grip of vengeance had released its hold on him—for the moment—and he was left with something else: emptiness.

He walked deeper into the sanctum, the architecture a testament to the old ways. Stone carvings of Mandalore's legends lined the walls, their faces frozen in time. The air was thick with dust, the scent of ancient decay lingering in the silence.

His helmet's systems blinked as it scanned the space, mapping out the environment. The movement he had detected earlier was now clearer: a faint glow at the far end of the chamber. The room ahead was dimly lit by a series of flickering holo-screens, their ancient interfaces barely functional, but still offering a soft pulse of light.

Varek's boots clicked louder now, drawing him forward. His fingers curled tightly around his blaster, the weight of it a reminder of his own resolve. But then a voice—crystal clear, feminine, and cold—echoed through the chamber, stopping him dead in his tracks.


"Varek Ordo… or should I call you Varek Rekali. I can never remember who claimed you?"

It was like a punch to the gut. He hadn't heard that name in years. That voice. Her.

Varek turned slowly, the familiar dread creeping up his spine, even though he tried to suppress it. His hand hovered near his blaster once again as his systems worked overtime to identify the source of the voice. But the only thing that showed up was the faint hum of an old terminal, an unfamiliar signature cutting through the silence.

Out of the shadows stepped a figure, her silhouette framed by the dim, flickering lights. Her armor, sleek and dark, was almost identical to his own—marked with sharp, angular lines that bore the insignia of the Empire's elite forces. But it wasn't the armor that caught his attention. It was her eyes—those cold, calculating eyes that had once shared a bed with him, shared laughter and stories long forgotten.

Aria.

"Did you think you could escape us, Varek?" she said, the words laced with venom. "Did you really believe that you could run from your past, your ties? You're nothing without us, you know."

Varek's breath quickened, but his hand remained steady on the blaster. He didn't lower it. Didn't move. Every nerve in his body screamed for action, but he kept his cool. Years of training—years of surviving the worst the galaxy could throw at him—kept him grounded.

"I'm nothing without you?" Varek's voice was low, barely more than a growl. "You made your choice, Aria. You chose them. I chose Mandalore."

She took a slow step forward, the click of her boots against the stone floor making it clear she wasn't afraid of him. "Mandalore?" She laughed—a hollow sound. "Mandalore's dead, Varek. It died with the rest of them It died when your father did. And you're nothing more than a shadow of a lost cause."

The fire inside him flared for a moment. His hand itched to pull the trigger, to end this reunion before it could even fully begin. But Varek remained in control. This wasn't why he was here.


"You're wrong," Varek replied, his voice harder now. "Mandalore will never die as long as we fight for it. "

A pause lingered in the air. Aria's gaze softened, just slightly, as though she were remembering something—perhaps a moment before it all went to hell. Varek didn't give her the chance to speak again.

"Where are they, Aria? Where is the Empire hiding?" he demanded, his tone demanding an answer.

She didn't flinch. Instead, she stood taller, and for a fleeting moment, her eyes glinted with something like recognition—or perhaps regret. "You think it's that easy? You think you can just waltz in here, kill a few pawns, and walk away with the answers?" Her voice was laced with bitterness. "They're everywhere, Varek. Everywhere you go, they're watching."

Varek's mind raced. He had heard rumors, whispers in the underworld, of Empire remnants—pockets of them still scattered across the galaxy, pulling the strings from the shadows. But this? This was something deeper, something more calculated. It wasn't just about revenge anymore. The Empire's grip was stronger than he had thought.

"I'll take them down, one by one," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "I will bring them all down."

Aria's lip curled into a smile—an unsettling one. "You're already too late, Varek. You've always been too late."

The lights in the room flickered once more, and for just a brief moment, the shadows seemed to stretch longer. Varek could feel the weight of her gaze, could feel the pull of the past, the ghost of what they once were. But he shoved it aside.

The cold truth hit him again—she wasn't his ally anymore. She never had been.

She took a step back, raising her hand in a gesture that was almost too casual. "The game's changed. You're out of your depth."

Varek's finger slid to the trigger of his blaster, the click of his visor locking onto her face. His muscles tensed, but he stayed still.

"If you're trying to intimidate me, it won't work," Varek said, his voice steady. "This ends now. No more games."

"Maybe," Aria said, her smile now a thin, bitter line. "But you'll never be the same after this. We're not done, Varek. Not by a long shot."

And with that, she turned, vanishing into the depths of the temple, her footsteps echoing through the stillness.

Varek stood motionless for a moment, his breath steadying behind his helmet, his eyes scanning the shadows for any hint of a trap. But for now, she was gone.

Yet the weight of her words lingered, heavier than any blaster bolt or blade strike.

Mandalore wasn't just a cause anymore. It was a war. And Aria had just become its newest enemy.