=== Obi-Wan ===
The cold air of the underground mines bit at the edges of his cloak, but Obi-Wan didn't feel it. The fire crackled gently before them, casting flickering shadows on the ancient durasteel supports and stone walls of the forgotten tunnels. The mines of Mandalore were vast, stretching for miles beneath the surface, a relic of an age when war and ore were the lifeblood of the planet.
Now they served as refuge.
He sat on a flat piece of rock, one hand idly adjusting a piece of synth-wood he'd placed into the fire. His other arm rested protectively around Satine, who sat close to him, wrapped in a heavy cloak. She still shivered, but not from the cold. The past few hours had taken their toll.
They sat in silence for a long while before Satine finally spoke, her voice soft, curious.
"You said... you were with someone. Vulkan, was it? When you were lost in that other realm, the Warp, you called it?"
Obi-Wan gave a soft, tired chuckle and looked into the fire.
"Yes. Vulkan. A giant of a man, easily thrice my size, and yet, gentler than most Jedi I have ever known. When he wasn't smashing daemons into pulp, of course."
Satine turned slightly toward him, pulling the cloak tighter around her shoulders.
"Tell me what it was like. The Warp. What did you see? What did you feel?"
Obi-Wan's smile faded. His gaze drifted away from the flames, lost in memory.
"It's... hard to describe. It's not a place like you or I know. It's alive. A sea of emotion and thought. Anger becomes a storm. Despair becomes gravity. I saw things, half-formed creatures made of hate and hunger. I felt... voices, memories, dreams not my own. The Warp doesn't obey the laws of any galaxy. It's not governed by time or space. It simply... is."
He paused, and his face darkened slightly.
"It is a place that feeds on the soul. It tests you. Breaks you. But somehow, I survived."
"Because of Vulkan?" Satine asked, voice quiet.
Obi-Wan nodded slowly.
"He found me adrift in that ocean. I don't know how long I had been there, days? Weeks? A moment? Time had no meaning in that place. But he found me. Pulled me free. He carried me through fire and madness, through screaming pits and cities made of glass that bled."
Satine's brows furrowed slightly in confusion. "And this Vulkan… he's not an ancient lost Jedi?"
Obi-Wan let out a soft, amused sound.
"No. He is of the Imperium. A Primarch. A demigod forged by their Emperor. Vulkan is not of this galaxy, yet he is more human than most I've met. Noble. Kind. And burdened. I saw it in his eyes, he's lived for millennia, seen worlds fall, fought horrors we couldn't begin to imagine."
He glanced at Satine, then added more softly, "He reminded me a bit of Qui-Gon. Strong, and unyielding, but deeply compassionate."
Satine smiled faintly at the mention of the old Jedi Master.
"And where is he now?" Satine asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Obi-Wan didn't answer right away. The fire before them had burned low, its orange glow pulsing faintly in the darkened expanse of the ancient Mandalorian mines. His blue eyes reflected the flickering light, narrowed in quiet thought. He looked older than he had just hours before, tired, as if the weight of galaxies rested on his shoulders.
At last, he spoke.
"He sleeps on Tython."
Satine blinked. "Tython? But that's just a myth. A legend."
Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "To most. But not to the Jedi. Yoda and I are the only ones who remember how to find it. The knowledge was buried long ago on purpose. A world lost to time, untouched by the chaos of the war."
He leaned back against the rocky wall, eyes drifting toward the blackness above.
"It's peaceful there. Primal. The way the galaxy must have felt at its birth. Vulkan rests in a chamber there. The air is thick with the Force... and silence. No machines, no war. Just time, and peace."
Satine sat very still beside him, watching him closely.
"You promised him something, didn't you?" she asked after a long pause. "That you would return him to the Imperium?"
Obi-Wan's eyes flickered. He said nothing at first. His brow furrowed slightly, and he stared into the dwindling fire like it held the answer.
"I promised to protect him while he slept," he said at last. "Nothing more."
"But-"
"I never said I would return him to the Imperium," Obi-Wan added, more firmly now. "Even then, ten years ago, I knew what the Imperium was. I saw the Astartes. Back then, they stood at the edge of the galaxy, watching us with curiosity and suspicion. And now?" He glanced toward the cavern entrance, where the faintest vibration of distant war machines echoed through stone. "Now, we are at war."
Satine's eyes searched his face. "But if you gave him back, if you gave them Vulkan, it might stop the fighting. You said yourself they revere him. What better olive branch could exist?"
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose, his breath steady but weary.
"I've thought about that. More times than I can count. But for all my love and respect for Vulkan... I know his heart. He was a just man, yes, but utterly loyal to the Emperor of Mankind. To the Imperium's vision. He fought for it. Bled for it. Died for it."
He turned to look at her now, his voice quieter.
"He would never abide by the Republic continuing to exist. Not as we are. If I return him, if I place his sleeping form back in their hands... I would not be returning a man. I would be waking a weapon."
Satine looked down, brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.
"I don't understand. You spoke of him with reverence. As if he changed you. And yet now... you would keep him from his own people?"
Obi-Wan stood slowly, his silhouette casting a long shadow against the mine wall. He walked a few steps toward the fire, hands clasped behind his back.
"He did change me," he said. "He saved me. He reminded me that even in the heart of chaos, there is honor, and strength in compassion. But that doesn't mean I surrender my loyalty. I am a Jedi of the Republic, Satine. And the Republic... for all its flaws... is worth fighting for."
The fire crackled. Satine looked up at him, sadness in her eyes.
"So you're choosing war."
"I'm choosing to protect what I believe in," Obi-Wan replied quietly. "And that means guarding the galaxy from a power that would crush it under the guise of unity. Vulkan may not wish for conquest, but his very presence would galvanize their legions, rally them. They would burn a thousand worlds just to see him wake."
"But if they ever found out. They would burn a million to see him returned." She retorted.
Obi-Wan stood still for a moment, thinking on her words.
"True. I will seek the Council's wisdom on this matter."
Silence hung between them. Heavy. The fire had burned down to glowing embers now, casting only the faintest warmth.
Satine finally spoke, voice trembling just slightly.
"And what about love, Obi-Wan? Is there any place left for it... in all of this?"
He turned to her, and for a moment, the Jedi faltered. His eyes softened, and his mouth opened… but no words came.
Instead, he knelt beside her once more, reaching out to gently clasp her hand.
"There is always a place for it," he said, "even if we must carve it out of stone and darkness."
And in the depths of the Mandalorian mines, as war raged above and ancient secrets slumbered in hidden vaults, two hearts burned quietly.
=== Jarek ===
The great hall aboard the Emperor's Will, the command Battle Barge of the Adeptus Astartes, was eerily quiet. The soft hum of atmospheric systems and distant klaxons gave the space an ambient tension, like the silence before a storm. Rows of banners lined the gunmetal walls, each bearing the insignias of different chapters and crusades. The ceiling was high and arched, cathedral-like, and light filtered through thin, golden panels that gleamed like dying stars.
Jarek knelt on one knee, armor scuffed and dust-streaked from Mandalore's surface. Beside him, Korrin mirrored his posture, head bowed, shoulders squared. Bo-Katan was absent, currently undergoing cybernetic reconstruction in the medicae wing.
But they had all failed.
And now they were kneeling before the triumvirate of titans, Maximus, Raxor, and Sebastian.
The three Astartes sat atop the dais, statuesque and unmoving. The Ultramarine was in the center. To his right was the Black Templar, and to his left, the Salamander.
The tension in the chamber was suffocating.
Jarek kept his eyes low but his voice steady. "My lords… we gave pursuit. Through the underways, the collapsed tunnels, the ruins of the mines beneath Sundari. We tracked the Jedi and the Duchess as far as we could, but…" He swallowed his pride. "We lost them."
Korrin's head remained bowed. "We failed in our duty."
A moment of silence followed. A long one.
Maximus remained seated, arms resting on the side rests of the massive throne he occupied. His optics observed the two Mandalorian captains without emotion. Neither contempt nor disappointment. Just stillness.
Then, at last, he spoke.
"It is of no consequence."
Jarek's eyes snapped up.
For a moment, he thought he had misheard. "My lord?"
Sebastian's voice followed, deep and smooth like obsidian grinding against metal. "The goal was never the Duchess."
Jarek's confusion deepened, mirrored only by Korrin's slow, uncertain glance.
"You said... we were to bring her into custody. That it was imperative," Korrin said.
"We did, but you failed. In all reality, she would have sat in a cell," Raxor added, leaning forward in his seat, the firelight from the hall's sconces dancing across his armor. "Silent. Useless. A figurehead at best. No longer in control of her world, no longer the heart of her people."
Sebastian continued, "But free? She becomes a symbol again. A banner. The loyalists, if they still linger in the shadows of Sundari or among the outer tribes, will rally to her."
Jarek stared up at them, realization dawning like the slow churn of thunder over a mountain range.
Raxor's voice took on a grim satisfaction. "And when they do… we will see them. Know them. Root them out."
Maximus leaned forward slightly, his voice quiet, firm. "We came to conquer Mandalore. That meant the planet. The cities. The people. Not a single woman with a crown."
Then Sebastian leaned forward, his voice lower, rougher, like a blade grinding against old stone. "Yet even in victory, there was failure."
Jarek and Korrin tensed.
"You were ordered to bring us the Duchess," Sebastian continued. "You did not."
There was no malice in the statement, but neither was there mercy. The Black Templar's voice held only truth.
"A penance is owed."
Korrin's jaw tightened. Jarek said nothing, his mind racing, what punishment would they levy? Would it be exile? A relinquishing of command? Or something worse? He'd seen what the Astartes considered punishment before, and it rarely involved chains or cells. It was usually paid in blood.
Jarek finally raised his eyes. "Then name it. What do you expect of us?"
The three Astartes sat still. Unmoving. Looming.
Then Maximus spoke, his voice was level, unflinching, unwavering.
"You will each conquer a sector."
Jarek blinked. He felt Korrin's sharp intake of breath beside him.
"You will each bring one sector under Imperial rule," Maximus continued. "Your legions, the Obsidian Crusaders, the Azure Talons, the Pyro Drakes, will act in the Emperor's name. Your banners will not return here until they fly over three new sectors."
There was no fury in his voice. No rage. Only the weight of expectation.
Then Raxor continued, "And while you are gone, fighting, bleeding, conquering for the Imperium, Mandalore will not lie fallow."
"It will be overseen by Severus Agemman," Maximus said. "He will act as planetary governor until you return."
Jarek bowed his head again. Pain evident in his voice. "Understood."
Raxor's tone softened, but the message remained hard as steel. "Agemman will not rule as a Mandalorian. He will guide your people through transition. Astartes training facilities will be established. Your young men, those strong enough, will be raised under our gene-crafting protocols."
"Some," Sebastian added, "may even become Astartes themselves."
That drew Jarek's attention. "Mandalorians… as Space Marines?"
Maximus gave the faintest nod. "They will be remade. Forged anew in fire and loyalty."
The three Astartes stood as one, their massive bulks casting long shadows over the two Mandalorian leaders.
"Now! Prepare your legions. The Galaxy awaits!"
===
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