Chains of Command
The chamber of Darth Vrakus burned with blood-red fire, shadows rippling like serpents across its obsidian walls. Nox knelt before his master, head bowed—not in reverence, but in ritual.
Vrakus: "You've carved fear into the stars," Vrakus said, his voice low and pleased. "Worlds broken, cities silenced. The Republic speaks your name in dread."
Nox said nothing. The taste of ash still lingered on his tongue. The screams… they did not fade. Vrakus' yellow eyes narrowed.
Vrakus: "Your next mission will cut deeper. A Jedi outpost on Dravannis. You will not merely destroy the Knights, you will make an example of their acolytes. Leave none alive."
The words struck harder than any blade. Acolytes. Children.
Nox lifted his head slightly, jaw tight.
Nox: "Even the initiates?"
Vrakus: "Especially the initiates. The Jedi plant seeds early. Uproot them before they grow. Show the galaxy that hope is a lie."
For a heartbeat, Nox almost refused. But his fists curled, nails biting into flesh, and he bowed once more.
Nox: "It will be done."
As he turned to leave, the Council's whispers echoed behind him, hungry, approving. But inside him, another voice pressed louder: Zen's, from Aldiris.
"I still see the boy I knew, and I will not destroy him."
That voice did not fade. It lingered, like light through a crack in a sealed tomb.
The Light Between Them
Far away, on the scarred fields of Aldiris, Zen and Tif walked among the wounded. The "peace talks" had failed, leaving villages torn by skirmishes and raids. Together they moved from tent to tent, Tif kneeling beside the injured, using not just her training, but her heart.
Zen watched her tend to a frightened child, his arm trembling from burns. She smiled gently, pressed her hand over his, and whispered encouragement as her healing aura flowed through the Force. The boy relaxed, leaning into her calm presence.
Zen felt something stir in his chest. This was more than a student. More than a Knight. She was light itself, pouring where his own hands could not reach.
Later, as night cloaked the camp, they sat by a small fire. Tif looked at him, her face soft in the glow.
Tif: "You carry all of it, Master. The Council's weight. The people's hope. Your brother's shadow. Sometimes I wonder… who carries you?"
The question struck deeper than any Sith blade. For years, Zen had been the shield, the calm, the constant. But sitting there, across from her, he realized: Tif had already been carrying him, with her loyalty, her laughter, her quiet strength.
He smiled faintly.
Zen: "Perhaps… I have not been as alone as I thought."
She did not look away. And though she said nothing, her silence was full of meaning.
The Mercy Unspoken
Dravannis burned.
The Jedi outpost lay in ruin, snow stained with ash and blood. Nox had carried out the order. The Knights were dead, their bodies cooling in the frost.
But when he found the younglings, wide-eyed, clutching practice blades, he froze.
He saw Zen in them. He saw himself.
For the first time in years, he disobeyed. He turned his back, leaving them hidden in the ruins. His troops slaughtered the stragglers, but Nox commanded silence about the children. In his report to Vrakus, he lied.
"All were purged."
When the screams faded, he sat alone, blood-stained hands trembling. The power of the Dark Side still surged through him, but it felt hollow. His master's chains were tightening, but something in him pulled the other way.
Zen… why do I hear your voice, even now?
Beneath the Stars, the Truth
Back on Aldiris, the camp had gone still. Zen and Tif walked the perimeter beneath starlight, their conversation gentle, unguarded.
Tif: "I sometimes wonder… if the Code sees the whole picture. We're told to let go of attachment. But isn't love also the Force? Isn't compassion its heartbeat?"
Zen stopped walking. The stars reflected in her eyes, and in that moment he saw her not as his Padawan, not as a student, but as his equal. His partner. His… soulmate.
His voice was low, almost trembling.
Zen: "Tif… for years, I told myself it was only admiration. Only pride in my student. But that was a lie. I see you. All of you. And I.."
His throat caught.
Zen: "I love you."
Her breath hitched. She had waited, prayed for these words. But hearing them, she felt tears sting her eyes. She stepped closer, resting her forehead against his.
Tif: "I love you too, Zen. I always have."
For once, there was no Council. No Code. No war. Only two souls who had carried each other through shadow.
The kiss they shared was not rebellion, it was truth, brief and sacred, held in silence.
Twin Echoes
That night, Zen and Tif allowed themselves to simply be, not Master and Padawan, not Jedi and Knight, but two souls resting in quiet truth, side by side beneath the stars.
And across the galaxy, Nox sat in silence among the ruins of Dravannis, staring at his reflection in a shattered visor. His eyes glowed Sith yellow, but for the first time, he hated what he saw.
Both brothers, in their own way, had stepped into truth.
One found it in love.
The other in doubt.
The galaxy held its breath, for the storm was coming.