Chapter Twenty-Six
Jango

The scene unfolds before my eyes like a nightmare I cannot escape—my beloved queen, Mira, the woman who had once been the epitome of grace and loyalty, now locked in a passionate embrace with that insufferable pup of a Jedi. My heart feels as though it's being crushed in the vice-like grip of a hydraulic press, each beat echoing through my chest like a painful reminder of the treachery unfolding before me. The rage that builds within is a tempest, a maelstrom threatening to consume the very fabric of my being. With trembling hands, I clench my fists so tightly that the metallic plating of my gauntlet digs into my skin, drawing forth beads of blood that I barely notice amidst the chaos of my emotions.

My vision tunnels as I fixate on the treacherous tableau before me. Mira's eyes are closed, a look of bliss marring her usually stoic countenance. The Jedi—his youthful features an affront to the very essence of the Sith—has the audacity to wrap his arms around her, as if he has any claim to her affections. The sight of their intertwined forms is a dagger to my soul, twisting and ripping at the very fabric of my sanity.

With every ounce of willpower I possess, I force myself to break the spell of their illicit kiss, and pivot sharply on the heel of my boot. The sound of my cape whipping around me is the only thing that pierces the deafening silence that has enveloped my world. My booted footsteps are heavy and deliberate as I stride away from the betrayal, the echoes resonating off the cold, stone walls of the chamber.

As I approach the exit, I find my son, Boba, standing sentinel beside the hatch of our vessel. He's engrossed in a book, his helmet resting under his arm, revealing the youthful curiosity of his unblemished features. The stark contrast between the innocence of his gaze and the tumultuous storm brewing in my soul is a jarring juxtaposition that only amplifies my agony.

"Father," he says, glancing up from his reading, his voice filled with the excitement of anticipation, "aren't we going to introduce ourselves to Mira?"

I swallow the bile rising in my throat and force a tight smile, the corners of my mouth feeling as though they are being held in place by invisible wires. "Not now, Boba," I reply, my voice a gruff rumble that barely conceals the tumultuous ocean of emotions beneath. "We'll leave her a message. It's...it's not the right time."

He nods, his young eyes filled with a trust that I fear I may never deserve again. We ascend the ramp of our ship in silence, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air. The hiss of the hatch closing behind us seems to punctuate the finality of my shattered dreams.

Once inside, I strap myself into the cockpit, the cold leather of the seat a stark reminder of the coldness that has taken root in my heart. Boba takes his position as co-pilot, his youthful exuberance a stark contrast to the icy void that now consumes me.

With a flick of switches and the roar of igniting engines, our ship lifts off, the ground beneath us receding into the distance as we leave the fortress—and my shattered heart—behind. The stars outside the cockpit window stretch out like a sea of mocking eyes, witnesses to the betrayal that has left me adrift in a universe I no longer recognize.

The flight is a blur of hyperspace jumps and the incessant drone of the ship's systems, a cacophony that is a balm to the chaos in my mind. I can feel the cold metal of the control panel beneath my trembling hands, a reminder of the coldness that now defines my existence.

As we soar through the cosmos, I am lost in a tempest of thoughts, each one a shard of pain that slices deeper into the very essence of who I am. What could have driven Mira to such a heinous act? How could she betray our bond, the very foundation of our power and unity?

The ship's computer beeps, jolting me from my dark reverie. With a heavy heart, I key in a message to Mira, my fingers moving with the precision of a master craftsman, yet feeling as though they belong to a stranger. The words are cold and calculated, devoid of the passion that had once fueled our alliance.

As the message is sent, I am acutely aware of the finality of my actions. There can be no return from this, no reconciliation. The woman I once knew, the woman who had been the light in the darkest corners of my soul, is gone, replaced by a shadowy figure that I can no longer call ally or lover.

The stars continue to stretch on, uncaring and unending, as we leave the planet behind. In the quiet of the cockpit, I am left with nothing but the bitter taste of anger and the cold embrace of betrayal. Yet, amidst the chaos, there is a glimmer of something else—a determination to right this wrong, to seek retribution for the insult that has been cast upon me.

For now, however, I must focus on the path ahead, the future uncertain and fraught with danger. But one thing is clear: the Jedi will pay for what he has done, and the galaxy will know the wrath of the Mandalore.