Chapter One
Mira

As I ascended the grand, marble staircase that spiraled upwards towards the regal heights of my ancestral palace, the air grew thick with anticipation of the grand festivities planned for my birthday. The intricate tapestries adorning the walls whispered of battles and triumphs long past, their vibrant threads shimmering in the soft glow of the gilded sconces that lined the corridor. Each step echoed through the cavernous space, a testament to the countless royal feet that had trodden these hallowed halls over the centuries. The stairs themselves were a masterpiece of Lothalian craftsmanship, each riser carved with the emblem of our house—a majestic loth-wolf, symbol of protection and unity—the very essence of the reign my father had so valiantly upheld.

The sudden cacophony of distant shouts shattered the serenity of the moment. My heart pounded in my chest, a discordant beat to the rhythm of the approaching footsteps. Before I could process the gravity of the situation, a flurry of liveried servants dashed past me, their faces a canvas of panic and horror. One, in his haste, collided with me, his eyes wide with fear, and in that brief instant of contact, he grabbed my arm, pulling me along in his wake. His urgency was palpable, a silent plea for speed that propelled me forward, my feet barely touching the opulent carpets that led to the throne room.

The heavy, ornate doors to the chamber swung open with a dramatic groan, revealing a tableau of chaos. My father, the King of Lothal, was seated upon his throne, the very seat of our family's power, now a stark backdrop to the unfolding tragedy. A figure clad in black armor, a blaster held with an eerie steadiness, had invaded the sanctum of our rule. The man's eyes, a piercing yellow, bore into the soul of the king, his intent as clear as the gleaming steel of his weapon. The room was a maelstrom of fear, the air charged with the impending doom that clung to the edges of the Sith's shadow.

"Bang!" The resonant sound of the blaster pierced the silence, a macabre exclamation point to the unthinkable act that had just been perpetrated. My world crumbled as the king's body slumped, the weight of his crown seemingly too great to bear in his final moments. His eyes, filled with love and sorrow, found mine, the unspoken words of his final farewell hanging between us.

"No!" The scream tore from my throat, a primal wail of grief and rage. I was a leaf in a storm, about to hurl myself at the monster responsible for this heinous act, but an unseen force checked my momentum. A pair of firm, yet gentle, hands had a vice-like grip on my shoulders, pulling me away from the horror. The Sith's gaze swiveled toward us, the malicious grin etched upon his face revealing the satisfaction of a job well done.

The guard's voice was a siren in the chaos. "Hurry, Your Highness, this way!" It was Kieran, my devoted and ever-watchful protector. His face, a mask of determination, bore the lines of a man who knew the gravity of the situation. We careened down the stairs, the twists and turns of the escape route a blur. The palace, a bastion of my childhood memories, was now a prison, its grandeur tainted by the shadow of the Sith invasion.

We burst into the hangar, the cool metal of the ship's hull a stark contrast to the warm embrace of the palace's familiar embrace. The scent of oil and burnt circuits filled my nostrils as we approached the vessel that would, for now, serve as my sanctuary.

In the tumult of the moment, the delicate silver necklace that had once adorned my mother's neck, a beacon of her love that she had bequeathed to me before her untimely demise, slipped from its precarious perch. The clasp, weakened by time and wear, gave way, and the necklace plummeted to the ground. The pearls, once a shimmering constellation against my skin, scattered like stars across the cold, unforgiving hangar floor.

Kieran's voice was a low growl, a command that resonated with the urgency of our situation. "Keep her safe, by the last order of the king," he bellowed to the pilot. The pilot nodded, a silent pledge etched upon his weathered features, and he ushered me into the ship with a haste that spoke of his loyalty to my slain father.

As the ramp began to close, the clang of blaster fire rang out. I whipped around, my eyes searching the melee for Kieran. There he was, locked in a desperate struggle with the Sith assassin, their silhouettes a dance of death and duty. A fiery rage ignited within me, and without conscious thought, I stretched out my hand, the very air around me crackling with untapped power. The bounty hunter, caught in my telekinetic grip, was sent hurtling backward, his body a ragdoll amidst the towering crates.

The hatch slammed shut with a finality that echoed through my soul. Through the small porthole, I watched as Kieran remained, a solitary guardian in a battle that was no longer mine. The ship's engines roared to life, a beast awakening from slumber, and we shot into the sky, leaving behind a world plunged into darkness, my home, my kingdom, now a mere speck in the rearview of our ascension. The weight of the crown, though not yet upon my head, was already upon my shoulders, and with it, the crushing reality of my new life—a life of exile and a quest for vengeance.