"Rage untamed is a weapon, but every weapon cuts two ways."

☠⚡⛓

Nyx stalked toward the cave, her massive form casting a long shadow against the cliffs of the citadel palace. The ground trembled under each heavy step, her claws digging into the earth as her red eyes scanned the surroundings with a cold, predatory focus. Her senses were sharp, always alert, and the air carried the faintest trace of decay—a mark of other predators who had come and gone.

Inside the cave, the remnants of their hunts littered the ground. A broken mouse skeleton caught her attention, and with a flick of her massive claws, she crushed it effortlessly beneath her grip. The sound of cracking bones reverberated through the cave, the sharp snap almost too familiar to her.

But the victory felt hollow.

Nyx lowered her head, the weight of her monstrous form pressing down on her, as if the very cave was closing in. Her red eyes flickered with a fleeting flash of something far less savage, something far more fragile. With a quiet, broken growl, she curled her enormous body into a tight coil. The ground beneath her trembled with her every move as her tail wrapped around her, an attempt to shield herself from the cold emptiness inside her.

Her massive, muscled frame shook, not from the cold but from a raw, deep sadness that surged within her. The cave, once a refuge, now felt like a prison. Her powerful form trembled with the weight of unshed tears, and with a low, guttural cry, Nyx allowed herself to weep. Red eyes, usually fierce and cold, burned with emotion—emotions she couldn't control, emotions she couldn't escape. The cries echoed softly through the cave, swallowed by the dark, leaving only the brokenness of an apex predator, seeking solace in the silence.

Nyx's gaze lifted slowly to the night sky above the cave, her red eyes reflecting the distant, cold stars. They shone down like scattered fragments of ice, cold and indifferent, offering no comfort, no warmth. The weight of their light pressed upon her, an endless void of coldness that mirrored the emptiness she felt within. The stars blinked out of her view as she curled her massive tail tighter around her, as though the simple action could shield her from the overwhelming loneliness that gnawed at her.

Will I find them again? she thought, her mind drifting back to memories long buried, of those she once knew, those she had lost. Her heart, encased in the raw, untamed strength of an apex predator, ached in a way she couldn't understand. Those who had been part of her life—who had once been her kin, her connection—seemed so far away now. The question echoed within her, unanswered, as if the very stars themselves had stolen her hopes and left nothing but cold, distant light.

Her enormous, muscular form remained still as she gazed out into the endless expanse, the tears now frozen in the depths of her soul. Would they ever return? Would the warmth she once felt ever return? Her mind strained against the cold light of the stars, seeking a flicker of something familiar, something she could hold onto. Yet, it was all so far beyond her reach. The distance between her and the world she once knew felt infinite, and with each passing moment, the isolation deepened.

Her eyes hardened again, though the glint of something softer remained. She would endure, as always, even in the vast coldness of the night sky. But deep inside, Nyx longed for the warmth that seemed so distant, so impossible to reclaim.

🎬

In the temple, Anakin walked with purpose through the dimly lit halls, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor. His mind churned with thoughts that refused to settle, a storm brewing behind his sharp gaze. When he reached Master Yoda's quarters, he paused for a moment outside the door, drawing in a deep breath before stepping inside.

The room was bathed in soft, natural light, spilling through a tall window where the ancient Jedi Master sat, his small frame silhouetted against the Coruscant skyline. Master Yoda was perched on a low cushion, his green skin illuminated faintly in the glow, his ears twitching slightly as though he sensed Anakin's presence before he even spoke.

"Troubled you are, Master Skywalker," Yoda said calmly, his voice carrying the same serene weight it always did, as if each word was chosen with great care. He didn't turn from the window, his hands resting lightly on his gimer stick.

Anakin hesitated, his throat tightening. "I—yes," he admitted after a long pause, his voice quieter than usual. "There's something I need to talk to you about, Master."

"Speak, you should," Yoda said, finally glancing over his shoulder to meet Anakin's eyes. "Heavy your heart feels. Share it, perhaps lighter it will become."

Anakin stepped further into the room, his hands clasped tightly behind his back as he struggled to form the words. The weight of what had happened with Nyx still hung over him, sharp and suffocating. Finally, he exhaled, his gaze dropping to the floor.

"It's about Nyx," he began, his voice thick with conflict. "She's... she's lost, Master. Or maybe she's not. I don't even know anymore."

Yoda studied him silently for a moment, his wise, unblinking eyes seeming to pierce through Anakin's very soul. "Lost, is she?" he asked, his tone careful. "Or lost, do you fear her to be?"

Anakin frowned, the question cutting deeper than he expected. "I don't know," he said, almost helplessly. "She's not the same as she was. She's become... something else. Something dangerous." His jaw tightened as he looked out the window. "But I can't just give up on her. I won't."

"Hmmm." Yoda leaned on his cane, closing his eyes briefly. "Dangerous she is, yes. But within the darkness, a flicker of light, perhaps, still burns. Believe this, do you?"

"I have to believe it," Anakin said firmly, his voice rising. "If I don't... then what was the point of everything we've done? She trusted us, Master. She fought for us. I can't just let that be for nothing."

Yoda tilted his head, his ears twitching thoughtfully. "Difficult, these choices are," he said softly. "A Jedi's path, clouded by the heart it can be. But remember, you must: not all who walk the same road, return."

Anakin bristled, his fists clenching. "I can bring her back," he said, his tone almost defiant. "I've seen her strength, her will. I can bring her back."

Yoda's eyes opened, his gaze steady. "Perhaps," he said simply. "But bring her back, for her sake, you must. Not for yours."

Anakin froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow. For a moment, he was silent, the storm within him churning even more violently. Finally, he nodded, though his jaw was set tight.

"I understand," he said quietly, though the fire in his voice betrayed the doubts that still lingered.

Yoda watched him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Much you have learned, Master Skywalker," he said. "But much more, still, you have to see."

Anakin turned to leave, his thoughts heavier than when he had entered. As he stepped out of the room, Yoda turned back to the window, his gaze fixed on the horizon. He sighed softly, his ears drooping slightly.

"Hope remains," he murmured to himself. "But fragile it is."