Expansion The Empires Fall | Overtaking Syngia Trade Sector

[The Obsidian Court]

Location: Syngia System, Outer Rim Territories


The stars shivered as the void tore open. One by one, massive dagger-shaped warships dropped from hyperspace—cold and silent predators against the endless dark. At their center loomed The Shadow Eclipse, the personal flagship of Darth Malvus, its obsidian hull absorbing starlight like a wound in space. No lights marked its surface—only the faint red glow of Sith glyphs that pulsed like a heartbeat across its armored skin.

The Syngia system stirred below. Syngia, the primary planet, was a jewel wrapped in storm and steam—an oceanic world laced with floating refinery-cities and deep-sea mining rigs. Its atmosphere churned with silver-gray clouds, and its surface shimmered with blinking lights from the trade fleets that passed through hourly. It was more than a planet—it was a nexus. Syngia’s position along the Gordian Cross trade spine made it indispensable to the Sith Imperial Empire. Spice, starship alloys, kyber fragments from neighboring mines—all passed through Syngia before reaching the Core.

That ended today.

From the bridge of The Shadow Eclipse, Darth Malvus stood unmoving. Tall and encased in jet-black durasteel armor laced with crimson Sith runes, he stared through the transparisteel viewport. The space around Syngia was littered with escort fleets, shipping lanes, and orbital trade stations. All of them were now targets.

“Activate the interdiction fields,” he growled, voice like molten obsidian scraping against a blade. “No one escapes. No one.”

A crimson ripple of energy flared from the flanking cruisers—gravity wells bloomed open like invisible jaws. Trade vessels caught mid-jump were yanked screaming from hyperspace, colliding with their own fates.

The surrounding sector—Hollast Reach, Verdan Rift, and the border colonies—depended on Syngia’s channels. The Sith Imperial Empire had become bloated on its supply. Now, with Malvus here, they would starve. Without Syngia’s flow of refined resources and advanced weapon components, Sith war machines would grind to a halt. Fleets would stall. Worlds would go dark.

And as the first orbital station was reduced to ash in a blooming fireball, Darth Malvus turned away from the viewport.

“Begin planetary descent. I will speak to the Viceroy myself. His loyalty… is under new management.”

The Hunt had begun.

 

[Perenelle Dee]

The Shaltin Tunnels a hyperspace route long contested, a blood soaked jewel vital to the Empire's trade.
For years, it was harried by attacks from Felucia, forcing the Imperial fleet to keep a constant watch on the system’s southern reaches.
But the north?
The north was different.
Quiet.
Untouched.
Dominion of the Sith whose allegiance had never been questioned. Imperial ships often stopped there to refuel, to repair.
No one expected treason.
No one expected an attack from the north of the system.
Not until now.


The Obsidian Fleet had hidden behind the system's sun, its massive forms cloaked in solar radiation. The Imperials never saw it. Never even had the chance.
It was late in the standard day. Most of the crew was on night shift. Cargo vessels drifted slowly between hangars and docks dozens of them. Some barely larger than escape pods, others the size of cruisers.
Most were unarmed.
Then, silence.
Not the silence of peace but the suffocating, airless void of death.
The first explosions tore through the orbital station.
No sound.
Just blinding flashes.
Hulls buckled.
Bulkheads ruptured.
Personnel were pulled screaming into the vacuum though their screams died in their throats, stolen by the emptiness.


Sirens wailed. For a moment. Then the power failed.
The station ignited, a cascade of fire spiraling down toward the planet’s surface, illuminating the night in sickly shades of orange and red.
Bodies. Crates. Ammunition. Rations.
All of it drifted in the void now lifeless, turning slowly in the cold dark. A silent graveyard. A never ending journey.

Aboard on the Imperial Fleet, a young fleet officer frowned at his comms panel.
Static.
No response.
Probably just a malfunction, he thought, fingers dancing across the console.
He leaned closer to the viewport.
Then he saw it.
The station a roaring sphere of fire falling, breaking apart, leaving a trail of metal and corpses in its wake.


His breath caught in his throat.


“ADMIRAL!” he screamed. “ADMIRAL!”


No response. Just static. And somewhere deep in the ship’s bowels, a siren began to wail low and distorted, like a dying animal.

 

[Perenelle Dee]

Syngia’s capital was no place for pleasure. It was a monolith of machinery, steel veins running through its bones, smoke forever rising from its chimneys and power towers. Entertainment was scarce business ruled all. In the late hours, the city slumbered lightly under a haze of dim artificial light, pierced only by the hum of industry and the hoarse chatter of exhausted night shift workers.


To the east and west, colossal floating cities loomed above the jagged mountain range levitating fortresses that cast long shadows over the untamed wilderness below. That wilderness, once teeming with peaceful native fauna, had been twisted by Sith alchemy. From the blackened womb of the Genesis Pool, the land had birthed nightmares, hybrid beasts stitched with anger and hunger, creatures resembling the horrors of Kaas, prowling just beyond the edge of civilization.


At the industrial docks, crates from Lianna were being offloaded while outgoing shipments prepared for launch mostly raw materials, weapons components, and anthracite mined from Syngia’s deep-ocean rigs. The cargo freighters bore the marks of recent struggle acid burned hulls and blood spattered plating, evidence of creatures that had ambushed the convoys during extraction runs.


Closer to the heart of the city, near the slave markets, another shipment was being processed. Fresh Zygerrian slaves, bound in chains and lined up in rigid formation. Their shock collars crackled softly in the cold night air. They were destined for Korriban, for Kaas consumed by the war machine, by the Sith Lords they would serve until death.


It was just another night.
Until it wasn’t.


The sky lit up like a second sun.
A blinding blaze cut through the heavens no meteor, but something massive, man made, and dying. The orbital station, a high atmosphere construct meant to guard the trade routes, had become a falling god plummeting, burning, screaming silently through the clouds.


Then, it hit.


The shockwave shattered windows across the capital.
The ground trembled.
One of the floating cities Seltrax-9 was struck dead center. For a heartbeat, it hovered in defiance… and then it buckled. Collapsed inwards. A chain of detonations lit up its underbelly before it began its death spiral, falling toward the jagged cliffs below.


The mountain groaned.
And then came the sound.


A concussive blast tore through the sky like a monstrous roar, deafening thousands. Those close to the docks dropped to their knees, blood leaking from their ears. Lights across the city flickered and died. Emergency sirens stuttered to life.


Panic set in.


Civilians poured into the streets, staring helplessly at the fire streaked horizon as two titanic constructs one a crumbling orbital station, the other a floating city torn from its perch descended in tandem like twin harbingers of annihilation.


There was no defense. No plan.


Only prayer.


And the futile hope that the wreckage wouldn’t fall on them.

 

[Perenelle Dee]

The night was cold and restless.
Perenelle had barely entered REM sleep when flashes fractured imagesinvaded her mind.
A creeping taste of dread curled at her senses.

FIRE.
CONFLICT.
DEATH.


The Empire she served, collapsing under the weight of treason, treachery… and a lack of vision.
A statue stood before her, carved from ancient stone its knees cracking, splintering, surrendering speck by speck. Rain poured endlessly, humid and thick, like that of Kaas. But it wasn’t water that fell now it was plasma and flame, washing over the crumbling idol.
From behind the falling monolith, blackness coiled slithering, hissing, crackling with malice. Treacherous snakes of shadow, forming not smoke… but armor.


An armor.
A figure.
A Sith.
"I will speak to the Viceroy myself."


Then—
KRA-KRSSHH.
KRA-KRSSHH.
KRA-KRSSHH.
KRA-KRSSHH.
KRA-KRSSHH.
The deafening sound of glass shattering by the billions, like galaxies of crystal breaking apart.
Perenelle woke in an instant, drenched in sweat. Her breathing was ragged.

What did I just see?
A dream? A vision? A warning?

Then she heard it the sirens.
The glass… was real.
She rushed to the window. The city was in chaos, lights flooding the night.
Two blazing yellow infernos were descending from the sky like twin stars crashing into Syngia.
Her heart raced.
She turned and sprinted into her chamber, grabbing her holo. Fingers flew across the interface, trying to reach someone anyone in orbit.
No response.
The fleet was silent.


Only planetary comms remained active.
At last, her apprentice answered.

"What happened?"
“I don’t know, my lady. It seems the station collapsed. It… it fell on Seltrax-9.”
“And the fleet? I can’t reach them.”
“We’ve had no contact. All ground forces are evacuating the city.”


She didn’t hesitate.
“Meet me at the Planetary Hall. We need full assessment now. Initiate a complete lockdown. Civilian comms cut them. Maintain only secure military channels. Begin evacuations in coordination with the police and lock down critical sectors. Set up designated safe zones.
A curfew goes into effect immediately.
I’ll be delivering a public address within the hour.
And apprentice… I don’t believe this was an accident.”
She ended the call and turned toward her armory.
On one side hung the dark blue armor of her time as an Inquisitor etched with runes of pain, a symbol of judgment and torture, meant to remind the people that punishment was never far.

On the other sleek, midnight black, forged from light durasteel the Exterminator Armor. Once worn by her former master during the Sacking of Coruscant, it had been passed to her as both weapon and legacy.


Without hesitation, she reached for it.


She adjusted her left lekku vivid crimson, like the rest of her skin save for the dark tattoos winding across her lekku and the old scars…
remnants of her time as a slave.
She began suiting up.
Her lightsaber ready on her right hip.

She would end whoever dared strike at her sector.
She would not let five years of carefully cultivated power collapse in a single night.
She would not let the Empire's assets burn under her watch.
She would not fail the Empire or the Council

Perenelle climbed into her speeder and tore through the city sky, throttle open, destination set.

 

[Darth Malvus]

Location: Low Orbit Over Syngia, Bridge of The Shadow Eclipse
Time: Moments After Initial Invasion Begins

The stars burned behind him, but Darth Malvus saw only the flicker of conquest unfolding beneath his feet. Smoke coiled from orbital wreckage, and the Syngian sky was slowly turning black as flak fire and broken satellites rained down like falling ash.

General Kaela Draal stood at attention beside him—her crimson and obsidian armor marked with the symbols of her victories, her presence as sharp as her glaive. A veteran of a hundred purges, Draal was loyal, precise, and relentless.

“Secure the space around Syngia,” Malvus commanded, his voice a whisper of thunder. “Nothing gets in. Nothing gets out. Cut all communication signals and jam planetary relays. I want every trade station seized, every port silenced. This system now belongs to me.”

Kaela Draal bowed without hesitation. “It will be done, my lord.”

Her fleet moved like a closing jaw—interceptors screamed through the void, boarding parties launched in rapid sequence, and Sith shock troopers began carving their way through panicked defense garrisons clinging to outdated hope. Trade stations flickered with emergency lights, then silence, one by one falling under Malvus’ iron shadow.

With orbit secured, Malvus turned toward the holomap, eyes narrowing on the planetary capital. A sprawling metropolis rose from the oceans, centered around the towering Syngian Citadel—gilded and white, like a temple to commerce and control. It would fall today.

“Prepare for descent,” Malvus growled.

The Shadow Eclipse released its inner fury. Dropships screamed toward the surface like black meteors, and with them came the Black Guard—his elite legion of Sith enforcers, cultists, and machines born in secret labs far beyond the edge of the known galaxy. Malvus stood at the head of it all, his long cloak of woven obsidian trailing as he walked from the loading bay into his personal assault transport. As engines roared, his voice filled the troop bay with resolve.

“No quarter. No delay. The Citadel falls today.”




Tag: @Perenelle Dee

 

[Darth Malvus]

Surface - Syngia Capital, Outer Walls of the Citadel


Explosions rang like drums of war. Pillars of smoke rose above shattered spires. Streets were flooded with panicked civilians and disorganized defense units. The ground quaked as Malvus’ dropship landed in the heart of chaos. The ramp opened to a storm of blaster fire—but the storm met a greater one.

Malvus descended into the fray like a god of death. Every step was marked with bodies and scorched duracrete. Lightning coiled from his fingertips, his saber still dormant—unneeded for now. He carved a path through resistance with pure will and power, leading his forces up the citadel steps under a black Syngian sky.

The gates burst open, and the great halls of the citadel echoed with cries and smoke. Malvus marched through the carnage, past golden banners and broken defenders, until he reached the throne room.

“The Viceroy,” he said aloud, voice like steel drawn across bone.

A trembling officer knelt before him. “Sh-she isn’t here, my lord. She fled before your forces breached orbit.”

Malvus did not speak. He simply turned, eyes narrowing. Something… stirred.

Through the Force, he felt it—a presence. Strong. Confident. Moving toward the citadel like a predator stalking its prey.

“She comes,” he murmured. “Let her.”

He stood still amidst the ruin, the battle still raging outside. The Viceroy may have fled, but something more dangerous approached. A champion, perhaps. A last defense.

Malvus waited.

This was no reckless invasion. This was a strike with purpose. With calculation.

He would not make the mistakes of others. The Empire was watching—waiting for a flaw, a slip. One wrong move, and they would descend like vultures. That would not happen.

“I learned from Eosfor,” he muttered coldly, as the sounds of the city’s final defense lines fell. “Strike without fear… but strike with mind, not just blade.”

As the doors behind him quaked—something, or someone approaching—Darth Malvus stood in silence, his shadow cast across the heart of Syngia.

And he waited for the storm.


Tag: @Perenelle Dee

 

[The Obsidian Court]

Location: High Orbit, Command Deck
Time: Shortly After Initial Orders


The stars pulsed red on her tactical display as General Kaela Draal stood, arms folded behind her back, upon the command deck. The bridge buzzed with controlled chaos—officers barking orders, tactical droids tracking enemy signatures, and the low hum of power relays feeding the siege below.

She watched coldly as the last of the trade vessels was dragged from hyperspace by the interdiction field, tumbling helplessly into the crosshairs of her cruisers.

“Fleet positions locked,” her comms officer reported. “All entry vectors sealed. No movement in or out.”

Kaela gave a single nod. “Commence Phase Two. Silence the system.”

Flickers of pale blue light danced across her console—relays jammed, orbital repeaters cracked open by ion charges, and subspace channels scrambled with Sith code-viruses. One by one, the space stations and planetary comm hubs went dark. Holo-signals from Syngia flickered out. The cries for help vanished into static.

The sector was now mute.

A warning ping flared—station theta-three was holding out, trying to send a burst transmission to a nearby Imperial relay.

“Deploy boarding pods. Burn the signal towers,” Kaela commanded. Her voice was razor-sharp and void of emotion. “No survivors. I want that station under my command in five minutes.”

Through the viewport, the battle outside unfolded like a grim ballet. Kaela’s corvettes broke formation and swarmed the station, their boarding claws slamming into durasteel hulls as Sith troopers flooded inside. Fire erupted from within—short, brutal, surgical.

She turned to her adjutant. “Have the Shadow Net activated. I want sensor ghosts deployed across the sector. If even one Imperial scout peeks through, they’ll see only chaos and debris—until it’s too late.”

The young officer gave a crisp nod. “Yes, General.”

Kaela Draal moved to the holotable, eyes narrowing on the red-lit markers indicating captured trade hubs. The siege of Syngia wasn’t just about brute force—it was about severing arteries. Each captured orbital point, each silenced relay, brought them closer to total suffocation of the Sith Imperial supply lines.

“Begin full atmospheric lockdown,” she ordered. “Lord Malvus is moving on the Citadel. Nothing interferes. Nothing.”

She paused then, placing one gauntleted hand on the console. Her crimson eyes reflected the fire blooming across space.

This wasn’t just a mission—it was history in the making. The day Syngia fell to the shadow. And she, Kaela Draal, would be the blade that severed the Empire’s throat from above.

“Inform Lord Malvus,” she said, her voice now a low growl, “that the skies are his.”

 

[Perenelle Dee]

Her heart was pounding.
Anger surged within her.
The wind from the speeder felt like a mere breeze against the storm building inside this attack was real, fast, and devastating.

She had little time.

She needed to find her apprentices. Rally her soldiers. Restore control.
She tried her comm unit nothing. Jammed.

As the Citadel came into view, her breath caught. The carnage was unspeakable.
Her people weren’t prepared.
Her soldiers frozen in awe caught in something worse than battle.
This was a massacre.

She had to act. She had to preserve the vision of the Empire.

There amidst smoke and flame she spotted them: her two apprentices and a small garrison, holding a defensive line, encircled and barely standing.

Without hesitation, she ignited her saber.

From above, she steered the speeder straight into the fray force shields braced, focus narrowed to a blade’s edge.

She nose dived into the enemy position.

Leaping from the vehicle like a Raxshir mid strike, she crashed down with fire in her veins.
In her left hand, a crimson blade, its golden hilt glinting with elegance and fury.
In her right, arcs of lightning twisted around her fingers raw, volatile, lethal.

She unleashed it all.

The speeder exploded behind her, ripping through the enemy ranks and giving her apprentices a precious moment of reprieve.

But it wasn’t over.
This was only the beginning.

“Master!”
Both apprentices cried out in unison.

 

[Perenelle Dee]

Her saber moved fast never still.

She defended with the precision of Soresu, redirecting attacks through the elegance of Makashi. Her crimson blade pulsed with lightning, crackling with the raw energy of the Force. Her right hand flared with power, hurling blasts of energy at enemy units while she held the line.

“WE NEED TO REESTABLISH COMMS ASAP! Else this is futile!”

She growled through clenched teeth, deflecting a blaster bolt and hurling a thermal grenade back with a surge of the Force.

“WE ADVANCE! Two buildings ahead there’s a relay!”

“YES!” they all shouted in unison, charging forward as a single unit cutting through the enemy and weathering the storm of fire.

They reached the gates.

“YOU ENGINEER! GET TO WORK.
THE REST FORM A DEFENSIVE PERIMETER.
WE DEFEND HIM AT ALL COSTS!”

She planted herself in front of the engineer, blade spinning in graceful arcs, intercepting every shot that came their way. The others formed a tight circle, shields up, eyes sharp.

“Lady Dee, I’m in! I can access the system from here!”

“Good. We need comms fast.”

“ETA two minutes.”

“Make it one.”

Seconds ticked like hours.

“Okay we’ve got planetary comms. Still no contact with the fleet.”

“Very well. Patch me through.”

The channel opened. She didn’t hesitate.

“ALL UNITS THIS IS LADY DEE.
WE ARE UNDER ATTACK.
REGROUP AT STATION TWO TWO BLOCKS SOUTHEAST OF THE CITADEL.
AVOID THE CITADEL AT ALL COSTS.
KILL ANY TRAITOR IN YOUR PATH.
DEFEND THE EMPIRE.”

 

[Perenelle Dee]

The opposition was relentless.

Wave after wave crashed against them but slowly, more soldiers arrived, bolstering their position. Inch by inch, they reclaimed the southeast. A fragile reprieve, but a victory nonetheless.

The Citadel was lost.
The planet… no longer theirs.

Lady Dee activated her comms now stable and secure.

“I need four recon squads units capable of bypassing enemy lines.”

She turned to her first apprentice Kalam.

“Kalam, take two squads. Get to the docks. Find a ship. Get a message to the fleet without them, we have no hope.”

Kalam bowed low, his dark armor streaked with soot and ash, white trim nearly erased by battle.

“It will be done, Master,” he said with conviction.

He turned to the troops behind him.

“MOVE! MOVE WITH ME!”

And just like that, they were gone heading south, carrying with them a flicker of hope for a burning world.

Dee turned to her second apprentice Jard.

“Jard, head into the jungle. Open the gates. Herd the beasts toward the Citadel.”

Her voice was ice sharp, cold, deliberate. She needed chaos something savage to tilt the scales.

“But Master… they’re mindless. They’ll attack everything everyone.”

“Jard, that’s an order. We respond in kind to the chaos they’ve unleashed. Go.
If the enemy wins there will be no one left for the beasts to devour.
We have no choice.”

He hesitated.
She was right. Civilians might die. But this wasn’t about mercy.

It was about survival.

She needed time.

Dee turned to the remaining soldiers around her.

“The rest with me.
We’re taking back the Citadel.
FOR THE EMPIRE. THIS WILL NOT PASS!”

A thunderous chant rose up from the troops. Blasters ready. Sabers ignited. Every heartbeat marching to the rhythm of war.

She might die tonight.

But if it preserved the Empire her Empire it was a sacrifice she was ready to make.
A sacrifice to her vision.

Then
She felt it.

A subtle shift in the Force.
Like a whisper.
An invitation.

Someone something was waiting for her.

And she would answer.

 

[Perenelle Dee]

At the Docks of Syngia

Like shadows, they moved slipping from alley to alley beneath the fractured skyline. Every step was deliberate, every movement executed in silence. The city above them was dying burning and they were running out of time.

Enemy fighters shrieked overhead, strafing the skyline with blaster fire and raining death on what remained of the city's defenses. Whole blocks collapsed under the barrage. The docks, once a hub of commerce and control, were now crawling with enemy forces.
The last few functioning starships were either grounded or destroyed.

But then they saw it.

Kalam raised a hand, signaling his squad to halt. His eyes narrowed beneath the mask of his helmet. There they were a row of docked patrol fighters, partially shielded under a scorched awning and half covered in debris. The Imperial crest on their hulls was barely visible through the soot and blast scoring.

He gave the signal.

The squad fanned out in a practiced, silent formation each man and woman a shadow in motion. They approached carefully, dispatching isolated enemies with swift, quiet precision. One soldier dragged a sniper behind a crate; another silenced a radio operator mid call. Every kill had to be clean. One alert just one and the entire mission would be compromised.

Twice, they almost didn’t make it.

Once, a surveillance patrol passed close enough to light up their armor with its scanning beam but didn’t detect them in time. Another moment, they held their breath as a patrol walked right past them, too distracted by the distant glow of another collapsing building to notice death just a few meters away.

Finally they reached the ships.

Kalam inspected the nearest fighter its hull was battered, the viewport cracked, and the nav computer was blinking red with multiple errors.

"Navigation systems are fried," one soldier muttered, checking another vessel.

"Same here," said another. "Minimal HUD, comms are on backup power."

Kalam nodded grimly.

"Doesn't matter. We're not jumping to hyperspace we just need to break orbit. Reach the edge of the system. Fire a beacon. That’s all."

The others understood. Hyperspace jumps required precision astrogation, stable coordinates, a working nav system. But this mission was different. They didn’t need to go far. Just far enough.

Each soldier climbed into a fighter. Systems sparked to life barely. Power fluctuated. Controls lagged. Some ships had no targeting HUD, others flickered with static.

Kalam looked up through his cracked viewport at the smoke filled skies.

One chance.

They would launch, blast through the atmospheric interference, and hit the system's edge broadcasting a signal with everything they had left.

If the fleet was out there... they had to hear it.

He gave one final nod and the squad prepared for launch.

 

[Perenelle Dee]

Edges of the City Gates to the Forests

The closer they came to the outer gate, the quieter the world became.

Here, at the threshold of the jungle, the echoes of the crumbling city faded behind them. No blaster fire. No screams. Just the heavy silence of untouched wilderness ancient, brooding, and alive.

From this vantage point, the orbital station now a falling monolith glowed in the sky like a second sun. A dying star, plummeting from the heavens.
A nova of destruction.
A harbinger meant not just to devastate, but to reshape the world beneath it.

Jard knew this path well. He and his master, Perenelle Dee, had traversed it many times in their attempts to understand the Genesis Pool that strange, alchemical well hidden deep within the wilds of Syngia. The pool were powerful, ancient beyond reckoning. They twisted nature, reformed it corrupted it.

What once had been a lush and peaceful biome had long since turned feral. The flora grew like walls of green teeth, and the fauna... the fauna were monsters. Beasts born of Sith alchemy and primal instinct, shaped by centuries of dark influence.

They had tried to tame them. To study them. Control them.

They failed.

The beasts had adapted. They had learned.

Where once they could be scared off, they now charged toward sound especially the whining hum of repulsorlifts. That instinct had proven deadly time and again. They weren’t pets. They weren’t weapons. But tonight, they would be used like one.

Jard revved the engine of his speeder, letting the whine climb to a scream. The sound cut through the still air like a blade. Leaves rustled. Birds fled the treetops.
From deep within the jungle a response.

Roars.

Dozens of them. Maybe more. The sound of great beasts snarling, screeching, thrashing against one another in a frenzy of rage and instinct.

Jard gritted his teeth, eyes fixed on the great gate ahead.
A relic from a different time its durasteel doors rusted but massive, meant to contain what dwelled beyond.

He shouted over the roar of his engine, voice filled with purpose.

“OPEN THE GATES!”

Slowly, groaning under years of weight and disuse, the gate began to lower. Vines snapped, metal creaked, the ancient mechanism trembling as the divide between civilization and wildness cracked open.

And then they heard them.

The beasts were coming.

The ground trembled with the force of their stampede. Shapes loomed between the trees massive, armored, reptilian, some quadruped, others slithering, many with tusks or claws glinting like obsidian. Their eyes burned with primal hatred, their howls shaking the leaves from the canopy.

Jard’s grip tightened on the controls. The engine screamed beneath him as he revved it again and again baiting them.

"Come on, you monsters... chase me."

And they did.

Like fire through dry grass, the creatures surged forward. The hunt had begun. Jard turned his speeder toward the distant lights of the Citadel, the city silhouetted against fire and smoke.

He didn’t look back.

He didn’t need to.

The jungle had been unleashed.

Now, the beasts would follow.

And the enemy... would have no idea what was about to hit them.

 

[Perenelle Dee]

South at the edges of the Sygnia System

The screams of the communications officer tore through the calm of the command deck.

“Admiral! We’ve lost the orbital station!”

Admiral Varis spun on his heel, the sharpness in his gaze cutting through the panic in the room. Officers and deckhands stood frozen, staring at flickering displays. Outside the viewport, the stars shone cold and distant but closer, glowing like a second sun, the station blazed as it fell from orbit.

“What happened?” he asked, voice sharp but steady.

The comms officer stammered, fingers dancing over their console.

“It... it looks like a catastrophic systems failure, sir. Power grid collapsed torn in half engines are offline it’s entering the atmosphere uncontrolled. It’s falling, sir. Straight into the capital.”

The Admiral’s face went pale.

"Contact planet side anything?"

“Negative. Debris from the station is interfering with the relay grid. The planetary network is collapsing one node at a time. We’re completely cut off.”

For a brief moment barely a second Varis stood silent, processing the unthinkable. A whole station. Thousands of lives. And no warning. No comms. No signs of sabotage.

Just... silence and flame.

Then, with crisp precision, he moved.

“All decks to battle readiness now.”

Officers snapped into motion, shouting commands and alerts through their respective channels. The bridge was alight with red warning strobes.

“All active pilots report to hangars. I want every available fighter armed and ready for atmospheric insertion. Logistics crews start loading fighters with relief crates: kolto, rations, field kits pack them for emergency drop.”

He turned to a nearby officer.

“Pull every dropship we have get troopers aboard. We’re going to need boots on the ground for damage control and rescue operations.”

His voice didn’t rise, but it carried weight calm urgency. The kind that came from a lifetime in the void. A veteran’s voice. A commander who had seen war but not like this.

“I want transport clearance and first wave deployment within 30 minutes. Understood?”

“Yes, Admiral!”

“Also activate all sensor buoys. If this wasn’t an accident, I want early detection for anything else that comes our way.”

“Acknowledged, sir!”

Red lights bathed the bridge, and klaxons began to wail across the ship as decks below scrambled into coordinated motion. A fleet meant for defense had suddenly become a lifeline the only connection left between the dying world below and the cold, watching stars.

Varis turned to the viewport again.

Who did this?

He didn’t know yet.

But he intended to find out.

 

[Perenelle Dee]

South at the edges of the Sygnia System

As the final wave of transports and fighters took off, the deck briefly settled into a tense silence only broken by the hum of rotating systems and distant hangar hydraulics.

An officer approached briskly, boots echoing across the durasteel floor. He stood at attention, crisp and precise.

“Sir,” he said, voice sharp and formal.

Admiral Varis turned, eyes narrowing.

“Report.”

The officer hesitated for half a second before speaking.

“All of our deep space sensor buoys have gone dark, sir. No telemetry. No response.”

The Admiral’s jaw clenched.

“Sudas,” he muttered in Sith, a curse as old as the Empire’s foundations.

Without hesitation, he barked the next command.

“Recall the fighters and transports. Get them back aboard, immediately. Begin rotating the fleet we’re moving in toward the planet.”

Officers and aides scrambled to execute the order, voices relaying commands through headsets and control panels. The capital ships of the southern fleet began to shift, the bulk of the formation tilting slowly as the maneuvering thrusters ignited massive engines groaning with power.

Then another voice, strained with urgency.

“Sir” a different officer called from the comms station, “we’ve lost contact with all outbound vessels. Fighters, transports... the entire advance wave. No return signal, no beacon pings. It’s like they’ve vanished.”

The Admiral turned slowly, his stare burning through the officer.

“Our comms are jammed. You’re just realizing this now, lieutenant?”

The officer swallowed hard.

“Apologies, sir”

Varis didn’t wait.

“Enough. Battle positions. Raise shields, charge weapons, prep every battery for orbital engagement.”

A wave of shock rippled through the bridge.

“Admiral, are we under attack?” one officer asked, disbelief in her voice.

Varis turned back to the viewport. The planet below shimmered with unnatural light plumes of fire rising from the surface, and debris from the station’s collapse still falling like burning ash.

“We’re not under attack,” he said, voice grim and low.
“The planet is being invaded.”

 

[The Obsidian Court]

Her heart was pounding.
Anger surged within her.
The wind from the speeder felt like a mere breeze against the storm building inside this attack was real, fast, and devastating.

She had little time.

She needed to find her apprentices. Rally her soldiers. Restore control.
She tried her comm unit nothing. Jammed.

As the Citadel came into view, her breath caught. The carnage was unspeakable.
Her people weren’t prepared.
Her soldiers frozen in awe caught in something worse than battle.
This was a massacre.

She had to act. She had to preserve the vision of the Empire.

There amidst smoke and flame she spotted them: her two apprentices and a small garrison, holding a defensive line, encircled and barely standing.

Without hesitation, she ignited her saber.

From above, she steered the speeder straight into the fray force shields braced, focus narrowed to a blade’s edge.

She nose dived into the enemy position.

Leaping from the vehicle like a Raxshir mid strike, she crashed down with fire in her veins.
In her left hand, a crimson blade, its golden hilt glinting with elegance and fury.
In her right, arcs of lightning twisted around her fingers raw, volatile, lethal.

She unleashed it all.

The speeder exploded behind her, ripping through the enemy ranks and giving her apprentices a precious moment of reprieve.

But it wasn’t over.
This was only the beginning.

“Master!”
Both apprentices cried out in unison.

Location: Outer Plaza of the Syngian Citadel

Time: The Moment She Arrives

The battlefield churned beneath the blackened skies—flames danced along the shattered outer walls of the Citadel, smoke curled into the heavens, and the streets were painted in ruin.

Darth Malvus’ legions stood like living obsidian statues, a wall of unflinching order amid the chaos. Clad in dark armor etched with Sith sigils, the Black Guard patrolled the courtyard—discipline incarnate, their helms reflecting the burning skyline. Shock troopers surged building to building, rooting out resistance with cold precision, while crimson war banners bearing Malvus’ sigil unfurled across the ramparts.

Then—

A ripple through the Force.

A flash of speed—a streak of motion in the sky. Command relays sparked in warning, and turrets locked onto the inbound target before the override came through Malvus’ personal encryption:

“Let her through.”

The order was absolute.

And yet, chaos still reigned.

As the speeder dove like a comet from above, Sith troopers instinctively braced, some raising shields, others stepping aside to obey Malvus’ will. But not all were so discerning. Auxiliary units and enforcer drones, unaware or too slow to adjust, fired on her approach. Red bolts cut through the smoke—most harmlessly dispersed against her shield—but it was clear:

She would not be welcomed gently.

Then came impact.

The speeder erupted in a wave of fire and concussive force. Several troopers were thrown like ragdolls into walls and debris. The Black Guard nearby reacted instantly—forming a perimeter, sabers igniting with twin hisses of crimson plasma as the woman descended like a vengeance-fueled specter from the heavens.

Lightning danced from her fingertips, arcing into Malvus’ forward assault lines. Bodies crumpled—armor cracked and sparks screamed. Her fury was raw and unfiltered, and even Malvus’ elite staggered under the ferocity of her assault.

One sergeant activated his comm, shielding himself from the lightning’s residual arc. “My lord, she’s—”

“I said let her through,” Malvus’ voice crackled through the line like a blade across stone. “But defend yourselves if struck. She walks among us by my will… but my soldiers are not sacrificial lambs.”

And so they adjusted.

The Black Guard began repositioning—no longer attacking her directly, but locking down the rest of the courtyard with methodical efficiency. Enemies of Syngia, loyalists, rogue defenders—all who resisted the fall were crushed with unrelenting might.

As the woman reached her apprentices, standing like dying stars in a sea of fire, Malvus’ forces fell into an eerie rhythm around her. They didn’t retreat. They didn’t surrender the ground. They simply let her pass—watching her with the wary silence one reserves for a caged beast with the key still in its mouth.

And from the heights of the Citadel’s blackened spire, Malvus himself observed, arms folded behind his back.

“She’s come,” he said to no one in particular.

Below, lightning roared and sabers clashed—but the game had only just begun.

 

[Darth Malvus]

Her saber moved fast never still.

She defended with the precision of Soresu, redirecting attacks through the elegance of Makashi. Her crimson blade pulsed with lightning, crackling with the raw energy of the Force. Her right hand flared with power, hurling blasts of energy at enemy units while she held the line.

“WE NEED TO REESTABLISH COMMS ASAP! Else this is futile!”

She growled through clenched teeth, deflecting a blaster bolt and hurling a thermal grenade back with a surge of the Force.

“WE ADVANCE! Two buildings ahead there’s a relay!”

“YES!” they all shouted in unison, charging forward as a single unit cutting through the enemy and weathering the storm of fire.

They reached the gates.

“YOU ENGINEER! GET TO WORK.
THE REST FORM A DEFENSIVE PERIMETER.
WE DEFEND HIM AT ALL COSTS!”

She planted herself in front of the engineer, blade spinning in graceful arcs, intercepting every shot that came their way. The others formed a tight circle, shields up, eyes sharp.

“Lady Dee, I’m in! I can access the system from here!”

“Good. We need comms fast.”

“ETA two minutes.”

“Make it one.”

Seconds ticked like hours.

“Okay we’ve got planetary comms. Still no contact with the fleet.”

“Very well. Patch me through.”

The channel opened. She didn’t hesitate.

“ALL UNITS THIS IS LADY DEE.
WE ARE UNDER ATTACK.
REGROUP AT STATION TWO TWO BLOCKS SOUTHEAST OF THE CITADEL.
AVOID THE CITADEL AT ALL COSTS.
KILL ANY TRAITOR IN YOUR PATH.
DEFEND THE EMPIRE.”

Location: Command Deck Overlooking the Citadel – Inner Spire of Syngia

Time: Seconds After Her Transmission


The faint echo of her voice crackled through the static—“…defend the Empire…”

It was like a blade across glass. Sharp. Defiant. Misguided.

Darth Malvus stood unmoving within the shattered war chamber atop the Citadel’s spire. Smoke curled through broken glass, and the city burned beneath him like an offering. His hands remained behind his back, the scorched wind fluttering the hem of his dark robes.

He turned his head slightly as a Black Guard officer stepped into the chamber, kneeling.

“She’s reactivated the planetary comms, my lord. She’s broadcasting to remaining loyalist units. Orders?”

Malvus exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.

“Seal off the building. Deploy aerial suppressors, signal breakers, and send the Shadow Enclave to the roof.”

He stepped forward, placing one gauntleted hand against the war table’s glowing map—highlighting the relay building in red.

“No one leaves. No one gets in.”

He paused, feeling the Force ripple in a single focused point—her. The storm within her was real. But it would not save her. Strategy would decide this war, not fury.

“Flood the area with signal static. Shatter the hardware. I want that relay offline permanently. If it cannot be controlled, it will be destroyed.”

He tapped the comm beside the map, his voice now filling the ears of those en route.

“To all ground units, converge on the relay. She has opened her mouth—now break her voice.”

He turned again, his crimson eyes cold as orbit.

“And if the engineer lives past this hour,” he added to the kneeling officer, “you will not.”

The officer bowed deeper. “Yes, my lord.”

Far below, transports screamed through smoke and shattered avenues. Troopers fast-roped from drop ships onto surrounding rooftops, siege walkers closed in from alleyways, and signal scramblers came online in pulses.

In moments, the engineer’s stolen seconds would run out.

And Lady Dee’s cry to rally the Empire…

Would fade into silence.

 

[The Obsidian Court]

The opposition was relentless.

Wave after wave crashed against them but slowly, more soldiers arrived, bolstering their position. Inch by inch, they reclaimed the southeast. A fragile reprieve, but a victory nonetheless.

The Citadel was lost.
The planet… no longer theirs.

Lady Dee activated her comms now stable and secure.

“I need four recon squads units capable of bypassing enemy lines.”

She turned to her first apprentice Kalam.

“Kalam, take two squads. Get to the docks. Find a ship. Get a message to the fleet without them, we have no hope.”

Kalam bowed low, his dark armor streaked with soot and ash, white trim nearly erased by battle.

“It will be done, Master,” he said with conviction.

He turned to the troops behind him.

“MOVE! MOVE WITH ME!”

And just like that, they were gone heading south, carrying with them a flicker of hope for a burning world.

Dee turned to her second apprentice Jard.

“Jard, head into the jungle. Open the gates. Herd the beasts toward the Citadel.”

Her voice was ice sharp, cold, deliberate. She needed chaos something savage to tilt the scales.

“But Master… they’re mindless. They’ll attack everything everyone.”

“Jard, that’s an order. We respond in kind to the chaos they’ve unleashed. Go.
If the enemy wins there will be no one left for the beasts to devour.
We have no choice.”

He hesitated.
She was right. Civilians might die. But this wasn’t about mercy.

It was about survival.

She needed time.

Dee turned to the remaining soldiers around her.

“The rest with me.
We’re taking back the Citadel.
FOR THE EMPIRE. THIS WILL NOT PASS!”

A thunderous chant rose up from the troops. Blasters ready. Sabers ignited. Every heartbeat marching to the rhythm of war.

She might die tonight.

But if it preserved the Empire her Empire it was a sacrifice she was ready to make.
A sacrifice to her vision.

Then
She felt it.

A subtle shift in the Force.
Like a whisper.
An invitation.

Someone something was waiting for her.

And she would answer.

Location: Streets Near the Citadel – Syngia

Time: As Dee’s Counterattack Begins


Thunder cracked—not from the sky, but from the pulse cannons of Malvus’ siege tanks positioned across the broken cityscape. Their relentless bombardment had reduced once-proud towers to ash and rubble, pushing the remaining defenders into a corner with no air, no escape, and no reinforcements.

But still they pushed back.

Reports flooded in.

“Southeast quadrant is flaring with resistance again. Loyalist numbers increasing. They’ve fortified a rally point.”

“Apprentices on the move—one heading south, one east. Jungle perimeter gates breached.”

“There’s movement toward the Citadel. Heavy. Directed.”

From within the shadows of a shattered tower, Commander Varek of the Black Guard watched through infrared optics as the loyalists began their surge—desperate, fearless, cornered. He keyed his comm.

“Lord Malvus, they seek to take back the Citadel. The prey gathers.”

Malvus’ cold voice answered in his mind, not through technology.

“Let them come. Bleed them in the shadow of what they’ve lost.”

Varek smiled beneath his helm.

“Deploy Phase Four units,” he barked to his lieutenants. “Fan out, interdict the south routes. No apprentice leaves this world.”

Far to the south, Kalam’s teams had barely reached the outskirts of the burned-out docking wards when the air turned electric. A detonation rang out—then another. Sith interceptor drones screamed overhead, dropping proximity mines and cutting off the path forward. From the rooftops, sniper teams picked off runners.

But Malvus’ forces didn’t aim to stop them outright. Not yet.

They herded them—corralled them like livestock into kill zones, knowing full well they carried hope in their hands. The more desperate they became, the more exposed they’d be. And once they sent a signal to the fleet, it would reveal itself.

Let them light the beacon. Malvus would extinguish the stars around it.

Meanwhile, in the jungle perimeter…

Beasts roared. Something massive had been loosed.

Jard’s sabotage had begun. Sensors lit up with warning tones as massive bio-signatures broke containment. Malvus’ scouts engaged them first—only to be overwhelmed by stampeding death.

“Hold the Citadel gates,” Varek ordered. “Breach teams to fallback positions. Let the jungle consume what they’ve summoned.”

Back near the Citadel, Lady Dee’s counterattack struck like a tidal wave—sabers clashed in the streets, and blasters screamed against walls of energy shields. But for every meter they gained, they paid in blood.

Awaiting her beyond the ruined arch of the outer walls stood an eerie calm—rows of motionless Black Guard warriors. Behind them, Death Troopers in crimson-stripe armor. And at their center… a black obelisk of Sith steel had risen where Malvus had planted his banner.

It was no longer the Empire’s Citadel. It was Malvus’ throne now.

And he was waiting for her.

 

[The Obsidian Court]

At the Docks of Syngia

Like shadows, they moved slipping from alley to alley beneath the fractured skyline. Every step was deliberate, every movement executed in silence. The city above them was dying burning and they were running out of time.

Enemy fighters shrieked overhead, strafing the skyline with blaster fire and raining death on what remained of the city's defenses. Whole blocks collapsed under the barrage. The docks, once a hub of commerce and control, were now crawling with enemy forces.
The last few functioning starships were either grounded or destroyed.

But then they saw it.

Kalam raised a hand, signaling his squad to halt. His eyes narrowed beneath the mask of his helmet. There they were a row of docked patrol fighters, partially shielded under a scorched awning and half covered in debris. The Imperial crest on their hulls was barely visible through the soot and blast scoring.

He gave the signal.

The squad fanned out in a practiced, silent formation each man and woman a shadow in motion. They approached carefully, dispatching isolated enemies with swift, quiet precision. One soldier dragged a sniper behind a crate; another silenced a radio operator mid call. Every kill had to be clean. One alert just one and the entire mission would be compromised.

Twice, they almost didn’t make it.

Once, a surveillance patrol passed close enough to light up their armor with its scanning beam but didn’t detect them in time. Another moment, they held their breath as a patrol walked right past them, too distracted by the distant glow of another collapsing building to notice death just a few meters away.

Finally they reached the ships.

Kalam inspected the nearest fighter its hull was battered, the viewport cracked, and the nav computer was blinking red with multiple errors.

"Navigation systems are fried," one soldier muttered, checking another vessel.

"Same here," said another. "Minimal HUD, comms are on backup power."

Kalam nodded grimly.

"Doesn't matter. We're not jumping to hyperspace we just need to break orbit. Reach the edge of the system. Fire a beacon. That’s all."

The others understood. Hyperspace jumps required precision astrogation, stable coordinates, a working nav system. But this mission was different. They didn’t need to go far. Just far enough.

Each soldier climbed into a fighter. Systems sparked to life barely. Power fluctuated. Controls lagged. Some ships had no targeting HUD, others flickered with static.

Kalam looked up through his cracked viewport at the smoke filled skies.

One chance.

They would launch, blast through the atmospheric interference, and hit the system's edge broadcasting a signal with everything they had left.

If the fleet was out there... they had to hear it.

He gave one final nod and the squad prepared for launch.

At the Docks of Syngia

Like shadows, they moved slipping from alley to alley beneath the fractured skyline. Every step was deliberate, every movement executed in silence. The city above them was dying burning and they were running out of time.

Enemy fighters shrieked overhead, strafing the skyline with blaster fire and raining death on what remained of the city's defenses. Whole blocks collapsed under the barrage. The docks, once a hub of commerce and control, were now crawling with enemy forces.
The last few functioning starships were either grounded or destroyed.

But then they saw it.

Kalam raised a hand, signaling his squad to halt. His eyes narrowed beneath the mask of his helmet. There they were a row of docked patrol fighters, partially shielded under a scorched awning and half covered in debris. The Imperial crest on their hulls was barely visible through the soot and blast scoring.

He gave the signal.

The squad fanned out in a practiced, silent formation each man and woman a shadow in motion. They approached carefully, dispatching isolated enemies with swift, quiet precision. One soldier dragged a sniper behind a crate; another silenced a radio operator mid call. Every kill had to be clean. One alert just one and the entire mission would be compromised.

Twice, they almost didn’t make it.

Once, a surveillance patrol passed close enough to light up their armor with its scanning beam but didn’t detect them in time. Another moment, they held their breath as a patrol walked right past them, too distracted by the distant glow of another collapsing building to notice death just a few meters away.

Finally they reached the ships.

Kalam inspected the nearest fighter its hull was battered, the viewport cracked, and the nav computer was blinking red with multiple errors.

"Navigation systems are fried," one soldier muttered, checking another vessel.

"Same here," said another. "Minimal HUD, comms are on backup power."

Kalam nodded grimly.

"Doesn't matter. We're not jumping to hyperspace we just need to break orbit. Reach the edge of the system. Fire a beacon. That’s all."

The others understood. Hyperspace jumps required precision astrogation, stable coordinates, a working nav system. But this mission was different. They didn’t need to go far. Just far enough.

Each soldier climbed into a fighter. Systems sparked to life barely. Power fluctuated. Controls lagged. Some ships had no targeting HUD, others flickered with static.

Kalam looked up through his cracked viewport at the smoke filled skies.

One chance.

They would launch, blast through the atmospheric interference, and hit the system's edge broadcasting a signal with everything they had left.

If the fleet was out there... they had to hear it.

He gave one final nod and the squad prepared for launch.

Location: Orbit Above Syngia – Shadow Eclipse Command Bridge

The stars beyond the viewport shimmered, warped by the lingering heat of planetary combustion. Syngia’s once-busy orbital lanes were now graveyards—drifting husks of shattered freighters, station fragments, and half-melted satellites spun silently, mute witnesses to the siege.

General Kaela Draal stood motionless on the bridge of the Shadow Eclipse, her crimson cloak draped neatly over obsidian armor. Her presence, cold and unyielding, mirrored the woman she once was before Malvus found her—and forged her into something far sharper.

“Multiple energy signatures, General,” a sensor officer called out. “Low-altitude fighters launching from Sector Twelve—city dockyard remnants.”

Kaela’s golden cybernetic eye flickered. She turned slowly toward the tactical readout.

“Confirm transponder signatures.”

“Imperial.” A pause. “Modified—tampered. They’re trying to broadcast past the jamming wall.”

Kaela’s lip curled into a blade-thin smile. “They think they’ll find salvation beyond the storm.”

She stepped forward, hands clasped behind her back. “Deploy Interceptors. Let them ascend. Then clip their wings.”

“Interceptors en route.”

As the battered patrol fighters broke atmosphere, sparks flaring off their scorched hulls, a wing of obsidian-black interceptors descended from the void like a swarm of silent wraiths. No sirens. No warnings.

Just death.

Kaela opened a direct channel to the flight commander. “Disable the engines. I want wreckage, not transmissions. Let their screams drown in their own silence.”

Below, Kalam and his squad pushed their ships into the upper edge of Syngia’s sky, engines strained, control systems flickering—but they were rising. They were almost free.

Then came the interceptors.

Blaster fire tore across the sky.

On the bridge above, Kaela Draal turned from the viewport.

“Nothing escapes Malvus’ justice,” she said calmly. “Their cries die here.”

She looked to her officers.

“Continue orbital lockdown. Destroy any remaining comm buoys. And inform Lord Malvus…”

 

[The Obsidian Court]

South at the edges of the Sygnia System

As the final wave of transports and fighters took off, the deck briefly settled into a tense silence only broken by the hum of rotating systems and distant hangar hydraulics.

An officer approached briskly, boots echoing across the durasteel floor. He stood at attention, crisp and precise.

“Sir,” he said, voice sharp and formal.

Admiral Varis turned, eyes narrowing.

“Report.”

The officer hesitated for half a second before speaking.

“All of our deep space sensor buoys have gone dark, sir. No telemetry. No response.”

The Admiral’s jaw clenched.

“Sudas,” he muttered in Sith, a curse as old as the Empire’s foundations.

Without hesitation, he barked the next command.

“Recall the fighters and transports. Get them back aboard, immediately. Begin rotating the fleet we’re moving in toward the planet.”

Officers and aides scrambled to execute the order, voices relaying commands through headsets and control panels. The capital ships of the southern fleet began to shift, the bulk of the formation tilting slowly as the maneuvering thrusters ignited massive engines groaning with power.

Then another voice, strained with urgency.

“Sir” a different officer called from the comms station, “we’ve lost contact with all outbound vessels. Fighters, transports... the entire advance wave. No return signal, no beacon pings. It’s like they’ve vanished.”

The Admiral turned slowly, his stare burning through the officer.

“Our comms are jammed. You’re just realizing this now, lieutenant?”

The officer swallowed hard.

“Apologies, sir”

Varis didn’t wait.

“Enough. Battle positions. Raise shields, charge weapons, prep every battery for orbital engagement.”

A wave of shock rippled through the bridge.

“Admiral, are we under attack?” one officer asked, disbelief in her voice.

Varis turned back to the viewport. The planet below shimmered with unnatural light plumes of fire rising from the surface, and debris from the station’s collapse still falling like burning ash.

“We’re not under attack,” he said, voice grim and low.
“The planet is being invaded.”

Location: Orbit Above Syngia – Command Deck

The holographic starmap shimmered with incoming signatures as the command deck thrummed with urgency. Officers moved in tight formation, relaying orders and scanning deep space telemetry. At the center stood the commanding figure of the general, gaze fixed, posture unyielding.

“New fleet formation emerging from the southern vector,” reported one officer. “Shifting course toward planetary orbit.”

The general studied the readings—no comms, no beacon signals from earlier outbound vessels. Silence surrounded the system like a noose.

“Let them come,” she murmured, voice calm but edged with contempt. “They’re too late. The world below is already ours.”

She turned sharply, cloak sweeping behind her like a blade slicing through the tension.

“Deploy heavy squadrons into intercept positions. Cloaked bombers to high orbit—mask them in the debris fields. Prepare strike vectors but hold fire until they breach minimum engagement distance.”

“Acknowledged.”

Her attention shifted back to the tactical array. Every movement was calculated, every unit positioned like a dagger at the throat of those who dared approach.

“Seal the perimeter. Maintain jamming across all planetary and orbital frequencies. Lock out any signal from entering or escaping the sector.”

An officer hesitated. “Even if they attempt to hail surrender?”

The general didn’t blink.

“Especially then.”

The atmosphere on the deck turned to iron—hard, cold, and absolute.

“Bring main cannons online. If they want to reclaim this system, let them burn for every kilometer of void they cross.”

Silence reigned as orders were executed with ruthless precision. And above the shattered world of Syngia, the noose tightened.

 

[The Obsidian Court]

Encrypted Transmission – From Orbital Command to Darth Malvus

Origin: High Orbit – Syngia Sector Perimeter

Clearance Code: Shadow Eclipse – Priority Alpha

The hologram flickered to life before Darth Malvus, displaying the image of the commanding officer aboard the lead capital ship above Syngia. The blue hue danced across the bridge of the Shadow Eclipse as the officer bowed his head deeply.

“My Lord Malvus,” the officer began, voice sharp and clipped with tension, “we have secured full orbital control.”

He paused only to bring up a secondary tactical overlay beside his projection.

“The southern advance formation attempted atmospheric entry—our jamming protocols remain effective. All communications in and out of the sector are still silenced. Outbound vessels from the planet failed to transmit signals beyond the interference field. They were intercepted or neutralized before reaching system edge. No confirmed hyperspace jumps.”

He tapped the display. A schematic of the sector lit up with faint hostile movements approaching from the outer rim.

“We are detecting coordinated shifts from a secondary fleet moving inward from deep space. Judging by the angle of their approach and adjusted engine burn signatures, they suspect an invasion but remain blind to the full scale.”

A small smile ghosted across the officer’s face.

“They are hunting in the dark, my Lord.”

He bowed again.

“All planetary defense satellites have been seized or disabled. Trade and comm stations are under our control. We have denied them access to their own sky. The noose holds.”

The image stabilized, then darkened slightly as the signal intensified.

“Shall we proceed with orbital bombardment if their fleet crosses into engagement range… or would you prefer they witness the fall of their world from the silence above?”

He awaited Darth Malvus’ command in silence, ready to enact whatever level of destruction the Dark Lord deemed necessary.