Velth — War-Torn World
The war for Velth, a world scarred by endless conflict, began with smoke on the horizon. Its cities were ringed with broken durasteel and shattered duracrete, ruins that whispered of past battles never truly healed. Now, once again, armies gathered beneath banners of war, the Separatist-aligned Warlord Karg had seized control, and the Jedi were sent to negotiate peace before the planet was lost entirely.
Zen walked with measured calm through the scarred plains, Tif close behind. She tried to match his pace, her youthful eagerness masked by discipline, yet her eyes betrayed the awe she felt. For days now she had been watching him, not just as her master, but as a man whose quiet strength seemed unshaken no matter how dark the horizon.
"Remember, Tif," Zen said as the wind picked up, "our purpose here is peace, not victory. Even the most hardened warlord has fears and hopes. Find those, and we may avoid bloodshed."
Tif nodded. She had heard the words before, but the weight of his voice, calm, steady, certain, stirred something deeper. He really believes in this, even when the galaxy seems set on tearing itself apart.
The Fortress — Sith Encampment
Across the plains of Velth, in the shadow of an abandoned fortress, Nox knelt before Darth Vrakus. The Sith Lord's presence filled the air like suffocating smoke, his voice low yet carrying the force of a storm.
"You are restless," Vrakus said, circling his apprentice. His hands traced the ancient runes etched into the walls, symbols pulsing faintly with crimson light.
"You crave battle, not patience. That is why I chose you, Nox. Because you strike when others hesitate."
Nox lowered his gaze, though his fists clenched.
"Warlord Karg is sloppy. Brutal, yes, but undisciplined. He wastes soldiers for spectacle. The Jedi will exploit that."
Vrakus' laughter rumbled.
"And that is precisely why Karg will fall, by your hand. You will show this world the price of weakness. Kill him, and let the Jedi see what true power looks like."
Nox hesitated for only a breath before bowing his head.
"Yes, my master."
Vrakus leaned closer, his voice a whisper that dripped like venom.
"Remember, my apprentice, compassion is a leash. Mercy is the lie the Jedi tell themselves. Strike without hesitation, and you will eclipse your brother."
The name burned in Nox's chest. Zen. Always Zen.
The Battlefield — Nightfall
Columns of smoke twisted into the stars as Karg's forces clashed with Republic troops. Zen and Tif arrived at the warlord's forward command, where blaster fire lit the shattered ruins like lightning.
Zen raised a hand.
"Hold fire," he called to the Republic officers. His voice, serene yet commanding, carried across the din. He stepped forward alone, the blue light of his saber unlit but present at his side.
"Karg," he said, facing the warlord, a hulking brute in spiked armor, scarred and grinning with arrogance.
"This ends tonight. Velth has suffered enough. Lay down your arms. We will ensure your people's safety."
The warlord spat, his voice booming like a cannon.
"Safety? The Republic brings nothing but chains. I will not kneel."
Before Zen could answer, a figure emerged from the shadows behind Karg. Hooded, armored in black, the hiss of a crimson blade split the night.
Nox.
Tif froze, her breath catching. This was the man she had heard only whispers of, Zen's lost brother. The resemblance was undeniable, yet twisted, hardened.
Nox didn't speak. He simply drove his saber through Karg's chest. The warlord gasped, eyes wide with betrayal, before collapsing at Zen's feet.
The battlefield went silent.
Zen's heart clenched.
"Nox… why?"
Nox lifted his gaze, eyes burning red in the firelight.
"Because peace is a lie, brother. Power is the only truth."
The Duel
Their blades clashed like thunder. Blue and red streaks cut through the ruins, sparks showering stone. Tif stood back, stunned, torn between fear and awe as she watched Zen fight, not as her teacher, but as a brother desperate to reach someone already lost.
"Listen to me!" Zen shouted over the clash.
"This isn't you! You don't need to follow him!"
But Nox pressed harder, each strike filled with fury.
"You never understood me. You never wanted to."
Tif's heart pounded as she realized the truth, Zen wasn't fighting to win. He was holding back. His blade always deflected, never aimed to kill.
The duel raged until both brothers, breathless, locked blades in a final clash that ended in stalemate. A burst of Force energy threw them apart. Dust filled the air.
When it cleared, Nox was gone, vanished into the night with the shadows of the Sith.
Zen stood silently, his saber lowering, his chest heavy with grief.
Tif watched him, her throat tight. She had always respected him, but in this moment she saw something more, not just a Jedi Knight, but a man carrying unbearable weight, choosing mercy even when it cost him everything. And in her heart, admiration shifted into something deeper, unspoken, but undeniable.
The Fortress — Aftermath
Far away, in the depths of the fortress, Nox knelt once more before Vrakus.
"You hesitated," the Sith Lord observed coldly.
"I fought him," Nox snapped. "He lives only because"
"Because you are weak," Vrakus interrupted, his hand tightening around Nox's throat with the invisible grip of the Force. Pain lanced through him, searing and merciless.
"Remember this pain," Vrakus hissed.
"Your brother is a wound you must cauterize. Next time, you will not falter. Or you will not survive."
As the grip released, Nox fell to one knee, gasping. He said nothing, but in his chest, turmoil grew.
The battle for Velth ended not with peace, but with silence.
Karg was dead. The Separatists scattered.
Yet no victory was claimed.
Only echoes remained, of brothers divided, of mercy and wrath, of paths diverging deeper into shadow.