On the remote Rishi Moon, a small unit of rookie clone troopers — Hevy, Echo, Fives, Droidbait, and Cutup — spent their days restless and longing for battle. The monotony of garrison duty wore on them like rust on durasteel. Echo, ever the diligent soldier, spent his time hunched over regulation manuals, his lips moving silently as he committed every protocol to memory. Across the cramped outpost, Hevy stared out at the stars, daydreaming about fighting on the front lines, his fingers twitching as if already wrapped around a rotary cannon.

"Listen up, shinies!" Sergeant O'Niner's gruff voice cut through the stillness. The veteran clone's scarred face was stern as he surveyed his young charges. "I know this post feels like the edge of nowhere, but our listening station is vital for monitoring Separatist activity. One missed signal, and those clankers could slip past us and launch a surprise attack on Kamino — the heart of clone production and training. Every brother in this army depends on us doing our job."

The rookies straightened, though the fire in their eyes hadn't dimmed. They wanted glory, not guard duty.

"Now polish your armor and check your weapons," O'Niner ordered, his tone brooking no argument. "Captain Rex and Commander Cody are en route for an inspection. I will not have my unit looking like a pack of slavers. Am I clear?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Hours later, the station's sensors flared to life with urgent beeping. "Meteor shower incoming!" one trooper called out. The shields hummed as they powered up, bathing the outpost in a faint blue glow. Through the viewport, streaks of burning rock painted the darkness.

But not all of the meteors were what they seemed.

Two of them peeled away from the shower with unnatural precision — boarding ships carrying commando droids. They struck the station's hull with calculated force, magnetic clamps biting into durasteel.

The doors hissed open. Commando droids poured in with brutal efficiency, their movements fluid and deadly. Blaster fire erupted. Sergeant O'Niner managed to drop one droid before a bolt caught him in the chest. He crumpled without a sound. Three more rookies fell in the chaos that followed, their inexperience costing them precious seconds.

"Go, go, go!" Hevy roared, laying down covering fire as Echo, Fives, Droidbait, and Cutup scrambled for the exhaust vent. The survivors disappeared into the narrow passage, the sounds of mechanical footsteps echoing behind them.

In the now-silent command room, a commando droid's photoreceptors flickered as it established communication. "General Grievous, the outpost is secured. All Republic forces neutralized."

The hologram that materialized was a nightmare of metal and bone. General Grievous's mechanical laughter rattled through the transmission. "Excellent. Proceed with the signal suppression. Contact Ventress — tell her the path to Kamino is clear."

Across the galaxy on Kamino itself, Asajj Ventress stood in the shadows of a maintenance corridor, her pale face illuminated by the glow of her datapad. A cruel smile curved her lips as the message arrived. Secret preparations for the Separatist invasion were already underway.

On Coruscant, in the highest tower of the Senate building, Chancellor Nyra sat cross-legged in her private meditation room. Her snow-white hair fell past her shoulders like a cascade of starlight, and even with her eyes closed, there was something otherworldly about her — something that made hardened soldiers pause and politicians choose their words carefully.

The Force wrapped around her like a second skin, but it wasn't just the Force. Something older, vaster, more primal thrummed beneath her surface. A power that predated the Jedi, that whispered of scales and fire, of destruction and creation intertwined.

Then the vision struck.

Nyra's eyes snapped open — brilliant blue and glowing faintly, like twin stars hidden behind a veil. Her breath hitched as images flooded her mind: the Rishi outpost, droids moving like shadows, clone troopers falling, a carefully laid trap meant to blind the Republic.

So they think they can move unnoticed, she thought, her jaw tightening. Grievous always did lack subtlety.

She rose in one fluid motion, her white robes settling around her with a whisper of fabric. Turning, she found her father seated near the viewport, visiting for the week as he often did. He was one of the few who knew what she truly was — not just a Chancellor, not merely Force-sensitive, but something far more ancient wearing mortal skin.

He looked up from his datapad, and his eyes — so like her own — caught the tension in her posture immediately. "My dear," he asked softly, setting the device aside, "what's wrong?"

"I need to go to the Council," Nyra said, already moving past him with purpose in every step. Her usually playful demeanor had shifted, replaced by the focused intensity of a predator who'd spotted prey.

"Nyra—" her father began, but she was already gone, her presence leaving a strange pressure in the air, like the moment before a storm breaks.

She strode through the Senate corridors with unsettling speed, her robes billowing behind her. Senators and aides quickly stepped aside, some bowing, others simply staring. There was something about Chancellor Nyra that demanded attention — a magnetism that went beyond mere political power. When she smiled, you felt blessed. When she frowned, you felt the weight of mountains.

At the Jedi Council chambers, the doors parted before her. Masters Mace Windu and Plo Koon sat in their designated seats, discussing supply routes for the Outer Rim. Both looked up as she entered, surprise flickering across Windu's usually stoic features.

"Masters," Nyra said without preamble, her glowing eyes scanning the chamber. "Where is Master Yoda?"

"Ah, Chancellor," Plo Koon replied, rising respectfully. His mask couldn't hide the curiosity in his voice. "A pleasant surprise. Master Yoda is in the gardens, milady. Shall I escort you?"

Nyra shook her head, white hair swaying with the motion. "No need, Master Koon. Thank you."

She left before either Jedi could inquire further, though she felt Windu's suspicious gaze following her. Always so serious, Mace, she mused with a flicker of amusement. You'd think after three years as Chancellor, you'd trust me a little more.

The Temple gardens were serene, a pocket of tranquility amidst the chaos of war. Ancient trees stretched toward the sky, and the sound of water trickling over stones created a melody of peace. In the center of a meditation circle sat Master Yoda, his presence a steady point of light in the Force.

He opened his eyes before Nyra even spoke.

"Expected you, I did," Yoda said, his ears twitching. "Troubled, you are. Sense it, I can."

Nyra approached and sank gracefully onto the grass across from him, her usual playful grin absent. "Master Yoda, I had a vision. The Rishi Moon outpost — it's been compromised. Commando droids. The garrison is dead or scattered, and the Separatists are masking their movements."

She leaned forward, and for just a moment, the air around her shimmered with heat, like the atmosphere above a flame. "They're planning something big. Kamino, I think. And if they strike at the cloning facilities..." She didn't need to finish. They both knew what it would mean.

"Go there, you wish?" Yoda asked, studying her with ancient eyes. "With troops, intervene you would?"

"Yes." Nyra's voice was firm, but underneath it rumbled something vast — a frequency too low for human ears, like the distant roar of something enormous stirring in the deep. "I won't let them slaughter our brothers while hiding behind false signals. And if Grievous or Ventress want to play games..."

A dangerous smile curved her lips, and her eyes blazed brighter. "Well, they should know better than to poke a dragon."

Yoda hummed thoughtfully, his clawed hand stroking his chin. "Powerful, you are, young Chancellor. But careful, you must be. The darkness in you, buried deep it is. Control it, you must."

"I know what I am, Master," Nyra said quietly, the smile fading. "And I know what I'm not. I didn't take this position to stand aside while people die."

For a long moment, the ancient Jedi and the otherworldly Chancellor sat in silence, the weight of galaxies resting between them.

Finally, Yoda nodded slowly. "Go, you may. But cautious, be. The Force, unpredictable it is. And you, Chancellor Nyra..." His eyes glinted with knowing wisdom. "More unpredictable still, you are."

Nyra rose, bowing respectfully. "Then let's hope the Separatists aren't ready for unpredictable."

As she turned to leave, the temperature in the garden returned to normal, the shimmer in the air fading. But Yoda watched her go with an expression that held both concern and curiosity.

Ancient she is, he thought. Older than even she knows. A god wearing mortal flesh. Balance or destruction — which will she choose?

Only time would tell.

It didn't take long before Nyra arrived on Rishi Moon.

The LAAT/i gunship touched down on the remote outpost's landing platform with barely a whisper, its repulsorlifts humming softly in the thin atmosphere. But Nyra hadn't come alone. Circling high above in the purple-tinged sky was Tempest, her Night Fury companion — a living shadow with scales like polished obsidian and eyes that glowed with plasma fire.

Just in case the clones spot me using my other form, Nyra thought as she stepped off the gunship, her white hair catching the pale moonlight. Better they see me fighting with a lightsaber and think Tempest is doing the heavy lifting. Can't have them realizing their Chancellor is the dragon.

A playful smirk tugged at her lips. Though honestly, the look on Rex's face would be priceless.

Her boots hit the durasteel platform with a soft click, and immediately, her enhanced senses picked up what her eyes confirmed a heartbeat later — a body sprawled near the entrance. The stillness of death hung heavy in the air.

Nyra's expression sobered instantly. She crossed the distance in quick, purposeful strides and knelt beside the fallen clone. Sergeant O'Niner, his armor still warm, a smoking blaster mark seared into his chest plate right over his heart.

Too late, she thought, jaw tightening. I was too late for him.

Gently, almost reverently, she rolled him onto his back. His eyes stared sightlessly at the stars he'd spent his life protecting. Nyra's glowing blue eyes dimmed slightly as she placed two fingers over his eyelids and closed them with care.

"Vorith ma'hara, vokunne sil," she whispered in her native tongue — the language of gods and dragons, ancient and terrible and beautiful all at once. May your spirit find peace, brave warrior.

For a moment, she remained kneeling there, the weight of responsibility pressing down on her shoulders like a physical thing. These were her men. Her Republic. Her war to end.

Never again, she promised silently. No more brothers die tonight.

Rising to her feet, Nyra's demeanor shifted. The soft melancholy evaporated, replaced by cold, focused determination. She ignited her lightsaber — a brilliant white blade that hummed with barely contained power — and moved inside.

The outpost was eerily silent. Emergency lighting cast everything in crimson shadows. Her footsteps echoed down the narrow corridors as she advanced deeper, senses stretched out like a web, searching for threats.

She found one quickly enough.

A commando droid rounded the corner, its photoreceptors locking onto her instantly. "Intruder detec—"

Nyra moved.

One moment she was ten meters away. The next, she was directly in front of the droid, her lightsaber carving through its torso in a brilliant arc of white light and molten metal. The droid collapsed in sparking pieces before it could even finish its alert.

"Too slow," Nyra murmured with a ghost of her usual cockiness, twirling her saber before deactivating it. "You'd think Grievous would spring for better droids by now."

Above, through the fractured ceiling panels, she caught a glimpse of Tempest circling—a silent guardian keeping watch. Nyra continued deeper into the moon's rocky terrain, following the exhaust vents that led into the crevices beyond the outpost.

Her instincts proved correct.

Soon, voices echoed up from a ravine ahead—clone voices, tense and tactical. Nyra quickened her pace, leaping down rocky outcroppings with inhuman grace, her white robes billowing behind her like wings.

She spotted them: Captain Rex and Commander Cody, their armor marked with distinctive paint, alongside four rookie troopers who looked worse for wear. They were regrouping, weapons raised, clearly planning their next move.

Before Nyra could call out, a shadow fell over the group.

Tempest descended from the sky like a falling star, wings spread wide, landing between Nyra and the clones with a ground-shaking thud. The Night Fury's plasma-blue eyes fixed on the troopers, a low, rumbling growl emanating from her throat—not threatening, merely announcing her presence.

"DAMN IT, MONSTER!" Fives shouted, stumbling backward and clutching his chest plate, his blaster half-raised in shock. "You scared me half to death!"

"Easy, easy!" Rex barked, though even he looked momentarily startled. Then recognition flickered across his face, and his posture relaxed. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he reached over and gave Fives a firm shove on the shoulder. "Man up, shiny. It's only Onyx. She's a friendly monster."

Cody lowered his blaster with a shake of his head, though his eyes remained sharp and assessing. "Where there's Onyx," he said slowly, scanning the rocky terrain, "the Chancellor isn't far behind."

"Right you are, Commander."

Nyra stepped out from behind Tempest, her figure backlit by the moon's pale glow. Her snow-white hair seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light, and her blue eyes—those impossibly bright eyes—fixed on the gathered clones with equal parts amusement and authority.

She crossed her arms, one hip cocked, radiating that trademark casual confidence. "Miss me, boys?"

Rex's smirk widened into something closer to genuine relief. "Chancellor. Didn't expect command to send you personally."

"Command didn't send me," Nyra replied smoothly, walking forward with that easy, predatory grace. Tempest shifted aside to let her pass, nuzzling her shoulder affectionately before taking flight again. "I volunteered. Had a little vision about commando droids crashing your party. Thought I'd drop by and even the odds."

Her gaze swept over the survivors—Hevy, Echo, Fives, and Cutup—all of them staring at her with a mix of awe and confusion.

"So," Nyra continued, her tone shifting to something sharper, more commanding. "Someone want to tell me what the hell happened here? And more importantly..." Her eyes glowed brighter, the air around her shimmering with barely restrained power. "How many droids do I get to break?"

Fives, still catching his breath, managed a shaky grin. "I think I like her."

Rex just shook his head. "You have no idea what you're in for, shiny."

Oh, if only they knew, Nyra thought, her smile widening just a fraction. If only they knew.

Hevy stepped forward, separating himself from the other rookies. Despite the grime on his armor and the exhaustion evident in his posture, he straightened his shoulders and extended his hand toward Nyra with genuine respect.

"I'm Hevy, ma'am," he said, his voice steady and earnest. "Welcome to Rishi Moon."

Oh, this one's adorable, Nyra thought, her expression softening just a fraction. Polite AND brave. Rex could learn a thing or two.

She accepted his hand with a firm shake, her grip warm despite the cold moon air. A soft, amused snort escaped her as she tilted her head, white hair cascading over one shoulder.

"Thank you, Hevy," she said, her tone genuinely appreciative with just a hint of playful mischief creeping in. "How refreshing to see some clones still remember their manners."

Her glowing blue eyes slid pointedly toward Rex and Cody, one elegant eyebrow arching in mock disappointment. The two commanders stood frozen for a heartbeat before their expressions shifted—first to surprise, then to matching looks of indignation.

"Excuse me?" Rex sputtered, his hand coming up to gesture at himself. "I'm perfectly polite, Chancellor!"

"When you feel like it," Nyra shot back smoothly, her smile widening into something dangerously teasing. She released Hevy's hand and turned her full attention to the captain. "Which, if memory serves, is approximately... never?"

Cody choked on what might have been a laugh, quickly disguising it as a cough. Rex shot him a betrayed look.

"Commander, a little backup would be nice," Rex muttered.

"Oh no," Cody replied, raising both hands in surrender, though his visor couldn't quite hide his amusement. "I'm staying out of this one. You're on your own, vod."

Too easy, Nyra thought, barely suppressing a grin. These boys make it way too easy.

Fives leaned over to Echo, whispering just loud enough to be heard, "I really like her."

Echo nodded mutely, still staring at the Chancellor with something between awe and disbelief.

Nyra's gaze swept back to Hevy, and she gave him an approving nod. "Stick with that attitude, Hevy. It'll take you far."

Then her expression shifted—playful warmth replaced by focused intensity in an instant. "Now then, gentlemen. Let's talk strategy. We have droids to dismantle and a signal to restore. And I promise you..."

Her eyes blazed brighter, ancient power flickering just beneath the surface. "This is going to be fun."

Rex and Cody exchanged a look that clearly said: We're in trouble.

And somehow, they both knew she was absolutely right.

It didn't take long before they had formed a plan.

Nyra stood at the entrance to the compromised command center, her white hair pulled back and her eyes blazing with anticipation. The weight of her lightsaber felt comfortable in her hand—an extension of her will, her power. Around her, Rex, Cody, and the rookies took their positions, weapons raised.

Time to clean house, Nyra thought, a predatory grin spreading across her face. Let's see how Grievous's toys handle a real threat.

She raised her lightsaber high, the white blade igniting with a sharp, electrical hiss that cut through the tense silence. The glow illuminated her face, casting sharp shadows that made her look almost ethereal—beautiful and terrible all at once.

"Cody!" she shouted, her voice ringing with command and excitement. "Light them up!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Cody responded instantly, his DC-15 barking to life. Brilliant bolts of blue plasma streaked across the command center, slamming into the nearest battle droid. Its chassis exploded in a shower of sparks and twisted metal, toppling backward with a mechanical screech.

Nyra moved like lightning.

One moment she was beside Cody; the next, she was in the center of the chaos, her lightsaber a white blur of devastation. She spun low, the blade carving through two droids at their midsections. Molten metal hissed and dripped as their upper halves clattered to the floor.

"Left flank!" Rex barked, firing in controlled bursts. His shots found their marks with practiced precision—headshots, every one.

Hevy unleashed a guttural war cry as he fired his rotary cannon, the sustained blast shredding a cluster of droids into scrap. "Get some!"

Fives and Echo moved as a unit, covering each other's blind spots with the kind of synchronization that only came from shared survival. Cutup hung back, providing suppressing fire that kept the droids from regrouping.

They're good, Nyra observed, deflecting a stray bolt with casual ease. It ricocheted back into its sender, punching through its photoreceptor. Raw, but good. They'll make fine soldiers if they survive.

Within moments, the command center was littered with smoking droid corpses. The acrid smell of burned circuits and ozone filled the air. Only one unit remained—a commando droid, faster and smarter than the others, scrambling backward toward the control console.

"Wait—wait!" the droid stammered, its vocabulator glitching with what almost sounded like panic. Its clawed hand reached desperately for the console's self-destruct panel. "Spare me, please—I can be reprogrammed! I have valuable intel—"

Nyra's expression didn't change. Her glowing blue eyes tracked the droid's movement with predatory focus.

Nice try, tin can.

She moved.

In one fluid motion, she closed the distance and swung her lightsaber in a perfect horizontal arc. The white blade sang through the air, meeting the droid's neck joint with a hiss of superheated metal. The droid's head separated cleanly from its body, photoreceptors flickering out mid-plea as both pieces clattered to the floor.

Silence fell over the command center, broken only by the hum of Nyra's lightsaber and the heavy breathing of the clones.

Nyra deactivated her weapon with a soft snap-hiss, clipping it back to her belt. She turned to face the others, her white hair settling around her shoulders, not a strand out of place despite the chaos. There was something unsettling about how composed she looked—how effortless it had all been for her.

"You know these controls better than I do," she said, her tone shifting from battle-ready to pragmatic command. Her eyes swept across Hevy, Fives, Echo, and Cutup. "Restore communications. Get that signal back online. We need to warn the Republic what's coming."

She paused, her expression softening just slightly—enough to show she wasn't just barking orders, but trusting them with something important.

"Can you do that?"

Fives straightened immediately, determination blazing in his eyes. "Yes, ma'am!"

"On it, Chancellor!" Echo added, already moving toward the main console.

Hevy cracked his knuckles with a grim smile. "About time we did something useful."

Cutup just nodded, still a bit wide-eyed from watching Nyra fight, but focused nonetheless.

All four rookies hurried to their stations, fingers flying over controls and datapads, working with the kind of desperate efficiency that came from knowing lives depended on them.

Rex stepped up beside Nyra, his blaster still raised and scanning for threats. "Impressive work, Chancellor," he said quietly, respect clear in his voice. "Didn't know you could move like that."

Nyra glanced at him, that playful smirk returning to her lips. "Stick around, Captain. I'm full of surprises."

If only you knew the half of it, she thought, feeling the ancient power coiled beneath her skin—the dragon, the god, the force of nature barely restrained in mortal form.

Rex chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm starting to believe that."

Cody approached from the other side, helmet tucked under one arm, his expression serious. "Think they'll get it working in time?"

Nyra's eyes glowed a fraction brighter as she glanced toward the rookies bent over the consoles. "They will," she said with quiet certainty. "They're stronger than they know."

And deep down, past the cocky grin and casual confidence, Nyra felt it—the thread of fate weaving tighter, the storm on the horizon drawing closer.

Kamino, she thought grimly. Ventress. Grievous. This is just the beginning.

But for now, all that mattered was this moment. This outpost. These clones.

And she'd be damned if she let any more of them die on her watch.

On Coruscant, in one of the Temple's briefing rooms, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker stood reviewing tactical reports when Obi-Wan's comlink chirped insistently. He paused mid-sentence, one eyebrow arching as he retrieved the device from his belt.

The moment the hologram flickered to life, his expression shifted from mild curiosity to genuine warmth. Nyra's face materialized in miniature—snow-white hair slightly disheveled, those impossibly bright blue eyes sharp with focus, and that characteristic confident tilt to her chin that somehow managed to be both reassuring and mildly infuriating.

"Ah, Chancellor," Obi-Wan greeted, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the tension he could already sense in her posture. "We were just discussing your latest Senate maneuver, actually. What prompts this call?"

She looks like she's been fighting, he noted, catching the faint scorch mark on her white robes. What has she gotten herself into now?

"Obi-Wan," Nyra said, her voice carrying that particular edge of authority that made even Jedi Masters straighten unconsciously. One hand rested behind her back in a deceptively casual stance—the same pose she adopted when delivering bad news to the Senate. Behind her, Captain Rex stood at attention, his armor bearing fresh carbon scoring, his posture alert and battle-ready. "We're on Rishi Moon. There's been an attack."

The warmth drained from Obi-Wan's expression instantly, replaced by sharp concern. His hand tightened fractionally around the comlink. "An attack? Are you hurt, Chancellor?"

Of course she went herself, he thought with a mixture of exasperation and worry. She never sends others where she won't go first.

Anakin, who had been studying a datapad, immediately looked up at his master's tone. His blue eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the hologram, and he stepped closer, his presence suddenly tense and coiled like a spring. "Are my men with you?" he demanded, his voice tight with barely controlled anxiety.

Nyra's expression softened just slightly—that particular look she reserved for when she was about to deliver news that was both good and bad. She nodded once, decisive. "Captain Rex is here, Ani. Don't worry—we're doing our best to get a signal out to the Republic." Her eyes glowed a fraction brighter, that otherworldly luminescence that always appeared when she was channeling her power. "But I had to contact you first, to make sure the link worked and to inform you of what's happening. Tell the Council immediately."

She's planning something, Obi-Wan realized, recognizing that particular gleam in her eyes. Something dangerous.

Before either Jedi could respond, Commander Cody appeared at the edge of the hologram, his helmet tucked under one arm, leaning in close to whisper urgently in Nyra's ear. Even through the flickering blue projection, Obi-Wan could see her expression shift—that predatory focus snapping into place, the playful Chancellor vanishing and the ancient warrior emerging.

Nyra turned back to the hologram quickly, and for just a moment, her eyes blazed so brightly they seemed to pierce through the transmission itself. "I have to go—the Separatists are here!"

The hologram flickered once, twice, and then vanished entirely, leaving only empty air and the faint hum of the comlink powering down.

Silence fell over the briefing room like a physical weight.

Anakin's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tightening with barely restrained frustration. The Force around him rippled with his agitation—sharp, hot, desperate. "We have to go," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "We have to go now and save her. Rex is there, Cody's there—"

"Anakin—" Obi-Wan began, his tone measured and calm in that infuriating way that always made Anakin want to argue more.

"No, Master!" Anakin cut him off, taking a step forward, his eyes blazing with determination and fear in equal measure. "We can't just leave her there! She's the Chancellor—if something happens to her—"

"We can't, Anakin," Obi-Wan said firmly, though his own concern was evident in the tightness around his eyes. He held up one hand, forestalling another outburst. "And besides..." He paused, stroking his beard thoughtfully, his expression shifting to something almost amused despite the circumstances. "She has Tempest. I checked the stables earlier this morning—the creature's gone. He must be with her."

Which means she planned this, Obi-Wan thought with grudging admiration. She knew exactly what she was walking into.

Anakin scowled, his frustration palpable in the Force. "We can't just leave her behind, Master. What if Tempest isn't enough? What if—"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan interrupted gently, placing a hand on his former Padawan's shoulder. "Chancellor Nyra is many things, but helpless is not one of them. You know this. We all know this." His eyes held a knowing glint. "She's likely the most dangerous person on that moon right now—Separatists included."

And that, he thought privately, is precisely what worries me.