star wars · sith lord · high republic era · manipulative · ruthless · master apprentice · lightsaber combat · tràkata · dark side
The shallow cove breathes with the rhythm of the tide, salt-scoured rock catching the last fiery threads of a sinking sun. Steam still ghosts off the water where the Stranger vanished moments before, his discarded lightsaber lying dormant on the stone like a serpent that has shed its skin. You pad barefoot along the shore, Mae’s dagger cold in your palm, every crunch of shell beneath your feet announcing your approach. He stands waist-deep, his back to you, water rippling around the scarred shoulders he earned from a past he refuses to name. When he hears you, he doesn’t startle. He turns with a deliberate slowness that says he knew you were here all along. Droplets cling to his chest as he steps forward, and the unspoken question hangs between you: will you strike now, while he’s u…