"Even the hunter must one day face the hunt."

☠⚡⛓

Anakin walked through the temple garden, his boots making soft thuds against the stone path as he made his way toward the giant acacia tree. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers, and the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze was the only sound breaking the quiet peace. The weight of the past few days hung heavily on him, but the shade beneath the tree offered a brief respite.

He sat down with a weary sigh, letting his legs stretch out before him. His mind, as always, was filled with a whirlwind of thoughts—conflict, destiny, and a future that felt both uncertain and inevitable.

A few moments later, Obi-Wan emerged from behind the tree, his presence calm and steady. His eyes, as wise as ever, searched Anakin's face. "Anakin," he said, his voice gentle yet firm, filled with that familiar concern.

Anakin glanced up at his master, a hint of a smile crossing his lips. "Hey, Master," he replied, trying to mask the exhaustion in his tone. But Obi-Wan, as always, saw right through him.

"You seem troubled," Obi-Wan said, moving closer and sitting beside him, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "Is there something you wish to talk about?"

Anakin turned his gaze back toward the horizon, feeling the weight of his own thoughts. "I'm just... torn," he admitted, his voice soft, almost as if speaking aloud would make the confusion clearer. "Everything feels like it's slipping through my fingers."

Obi-Wan nodded, understanding the deep internal struggle that lay beneath Anakin's words. The path before them was becoming more difficult to see, and even their connection as master and apprentice couldn't seem to dispel the shadow looming over the future.

Obi-Wan placed a reassuring hand on Anakin's shoulder, his touch firm yet filled with understanding. "We will get Nyx back," he said softly but with unwavering conviction. "That, I promise you."

Anakin's gaze softened for a moment, a flicker of gratitude passing through his eyes. His mind had been clouded by doubt and the weight of all that had happened, but Obi-Wan's words, simple yet profound, anchored him.

"I know," Anakin murmured, his voice steadier now, though still carrying the heaviness of the promise. "But sometimes it feels like we're fighting a battle we can't win."

Obi-Wan gave a small, knowing smile, his eyes not leaving Anakin's face. "The battle may be long, but you've never been one to give up, Anakin. You've always fought for what matters, even when the odds seem impossible."

Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I guess I learned that from you, Master."

The words lingered between them, a bond of trust and understanding, built over years of trials and triumphs. Whatever darkness lay ahead, Obi-Wan knew that together, they would face it—as they always had.

SCENEBREAK

Nyx's sharp eyes glinted under the moonlight as she crouched low to the ground, her body moving with the precision of a predator. She was back on the hunt, her blood still hot from the previous chase, her claws scraping against the dirt as her darker scales blended seamlessly into the shadows. Her mind was focused, her senses heightened, ready to strike when the moment was right.

She paused when a strange, unsettling scent wafted toward her. Her nostrils flared, and she froze, narrowing her eyes. There, ahead of her, was a figure she had not expected to encounter: Grand Moff Tarkin.

Her first instinct was to lunge, to take him down, but something held her back. She watched as Tarkin stood talking to a droid—no ordinary droid, but a command droid, its body tall and imposing with sleek metallic plating. His words carried over the night air, filled with cold, calculated malice.

"Make sure you find that absurd smotherer and tail her down," Tarkin was saying, his voice clipped and commanding, full of authority. "I want her hide before the last moon of autumn." His eyes gleamed as he glanced toward the droid, his face twisted into a thin smile. "I'll be rid of that abomination once and for all."

Nyx's lip curled in disgust as her claws dug deeper into the soil, her muscles tensing. "What's that prick doing here?" she muttered under her breath, her red eyes flashing with anger. The mere thought of Tarkin hunting her down, of him so casually ordering her death, sent a wave of fury through her veins.

The command droid gave a sharp nod, its servos whirring with a mechanical precision as Tarkin continued his conversation. "Once you find her, don't let her escape. If she so much as breathes, make sure it's her last."

A cold chill swept through the air as Tarkin gave a dismissive flick of his fingers, signaling for the operation to begin. The ground trembled beneath Nyx as a garrison of B1 battle droids, the familiar clanking of their feet hitting the soil, marched forward in formation. Their metallic voices echoed in the stillness of the night.

Nyx's gaze narrowed as she watched the droids advance, their footsteps rhythmic and heavy. She could already feel the hunt closing in, the noose tightening around her. But she wasn't one to run. Not anymore.

With a low growl, Nyx pushed herself up, her muscles rippling beneath her scales. She wasn't going to let this bastard get away with it. Not after everything she had lost. She would make them regret this. The hunt was on, but this time, it would be her hunting them.