(A/N: Hey guys, thank you for being patient with me during this trying time my wife and I are going though. We have been married for 6 years, and have been trying to get pregnant for the last 5 years, which just hasn't worked. We started IVF, which has not only been financially taxing, but emotionally taxing as well. About 2 weeks ago we finally did a transfer, and we were finally pregnant with a little girl, but last week my wife miscarried, which was devastating for both of us.
Again, i appreciate all the love and kindness you all have shown us though Webnovel, and through discord. I cant tell you how much it means to us.
Thank you all again!)
=== Raxor ===
Raxor's jaw tightened as the ship's engines roared, slicing through the ashen skies of Mustafar. The heat from the volcanic world radiated even at their altitude, casting the hull in a fiery orange glow that reflected off the polished armor of the Salamander as he gripped the railing beside the cockpit.
The pilot's hands were trembling slightly on the controls, as he steered the vessel through the thick haze of smoke and ash, his focus entirely on the emergency beacon pulsing faintly from the landed ship below.
The signal was Dooku's, evidently having set it off once the ship had landed.
Then, suddenly, it happened. Nira's body stiffened, and her breath caught in her throat. Dooku's connection in the Force went out.
Nira's eyes widened in horror as a shockwave of grief rippled through her, and her knees buckled under the weight of the loss. She collapsed against the reinforced wall of the ship, the vibrations of the engines and the tension in the cockpit barely registering as the full impact of Dooku's death slammed into her.
Her breathing came in short, harsh gasps, and for a moment, she could only press her hands to her face, tears brimming uncontrollably in her eyes. Sanguinius' voice whispered in her mind, soft yet urgent, shaking with a tremor of sorrow. "I'm so sorry Nira."
She looked up at the Salamanders. "Dooku is dead." She said simply, letting the tears roll down her ashen face.
Raxor's gaze flicked from Nira to the horizon below. The planet itself seemed to mirror the anguish she felt, the rivers of molten rock and towering volcanic spires, a reflection of the chaos and destruction that had marked this day.
He bent slightly over Nira, his voice low but steady, trying to anchor her. "Nira, you need to breathe. We have to get down there. He may be gone, but we can still look for survivors."
The ship dipped closer to the volcanic terrain, heat waves rippling across the viewport.
Nira's sobs were quiet now, her body still pressed against the wall as she trembled.
The ship broke through the final veil of ash and smoke, descending toward the main platform carved into Mustafar's volcanic crust, and what they saw below caused the entire cockpit to fall into silence. Two vessels sat on the landing platform, one of Imperium design, angular and brutal in its architecture, the other sleek and familiar, its silver curves unmistakable even through the haze.
Nira rose slowly from where she had braced herself against the wall, her movements stiff and still unsteady. She stepped toward the viewport, one hand pressed to the transparisteel.
Nira's breath caught sharply in her throat. Down on the dark metal platform, barely visible against the volcanic glow, lay a figure in pale fabric, motionless and small against the vastness of the landing deck. "Lower the ramp," she ordered immediately, her tone shifting from fragile to commanding in an instant. Raxor stepped toward her, reaching out as if to physically restrain her, warning her that she was in no condition to charge blindly into what could still be an active warzone, but she was already moving. The ramp hadn't fully extended before she leapt.
She hit the platform harder than she expected. The impact jarred through her bones, a violent reminder that her body had not fully recovered from the devastation of Tatooine's destruction, and for a split second her vision swam as heat shimmered off the metal beneath her boots.
The air was thick with sulfur and ash, the wind howling across the open expanse, carrying the distant roar of lava rivers below. She staggered, catching herself on one hand, teeth clenched against the weakness that threatened to drag her back down. But she pushed through it.
She ran to Padmé.
Dropping to her knees beside the unconscious woman, Nira pressed trembling fingers to her throat, searching for a pulse. For a terrifying second she felt nothing, only the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears, but then there it was. A faint pulse. She closed her eyes and reached deeper, letting the Force flow through her awareness, and what she felt made her stomach twist. Padmé's life still burned within her, and within her womb two smaller flames flickered stubbornly, but there was an echo of something violent, of fingers tightening around a throat, of oxygen stolen by someone who should have protected her. Nira's jaw tightened as realization settled over her.
"She's alive," Nira yelled over her shoulder as Raxor descended the finally landed ship.
She resisted the instinct to move Padmé immediately; internal injuries were unpredictable, and the way her breathing rasped told Nira that something inside her had been strained dangerously. Instead, she gently adjusted her position, ensuring her airway was clear, and placed a steadying hand over her abdomen, feeling again those two tiny presences.
It was then that Nira became aware of another body lying several meters away, closer to the scorched wall of the platform. The sight of orange-and-white fabric streaked with ash sent a jolt through her, and she rose immediately despite the protest in her muscles. The wind whipped at her cloak as she crossed the platform, boots ringing sharply against the metal surface, and when she reached the fallen Togruta, her breath caught again.
Ahsoka was in terrible condition. Her montrals were smeared with soot, one side of her face bruised and bloodied, and her breathing was shallow and uneven. There were burns across her arms where it looked like a lightsaber had scorched her, and the wall behind her was cracked from the force of impact, metal bent outward where her body had been thrown through it. Nira knelt carefully, sliding one arm behind Ahsoka's shoulders to lift her slightly without worsening any unseen injuries.
"Ahsoka," Nira called softly, but firmly. "Stay with me."
Ahsoka's eyes fluttered weakly, lids heavy as if they weighed more than she could bear, and for a moment Nira feared she would slip away before answering. But then those blue eyes focused barely, and recognition sparked through the haze of pain. "Nira…" she breathed, the name fractured and thin.
"I'm here," Nira said, brushing ash from Ahsoka's cheek. "What happened?"
Ahsoka swallowed, wincing as the motion sent pain lancing through her body. Her voice trembled. "Anakin… attacked us." The words seemed to cost her dearly, each one dragged from a well of disbelief and grief. "He's… fallen. He's gone to the dark side."
Nira felt it already, of course. She had felt it in the corruption surrounding this platform, in the violent turbulence of the Force that still rippled through the air like the aftermath of a storm. But hearing it spoken aloud, hearing it from someone who had once called him Master, solidified it. Her gaze drifted instinctively toward the Imperium ship and the shadows beyond the platform, searching for movement, for the presence that now felt like a tear in the fabric of everything she believed could still be saved.
"Is he still here?" Nira asked quietly.
Ahsoka's head shifted slightly in a weak nod before her strength faltered again. "Fought… all of us." Her breathing hitched painfully. "Dooku, Qui-Gon."
Behind them, Raxor's boots thundered down the ramp as he finally reached the platform, Sienn close at his side, but Nira barely registered their arrival. Her focus remained on the broken Jedi in her arms and the unconscious mother lying only a short distance away, and the storm gathering somewhere out of sight.
"Nira!" Raxor called, she looked up and saw him emerging from the direction of the Imperium vessel, one massive gauntlet wrapped carefully around the shoulder of a small girl he was guiding down the ramp. The sight of her was jarring against the devastation around them. She could not have been more than ten or eleven standard years old, her clothes smeared with soot, eyes wide but dry in the way of a child who had already seen too much to cry. She clung to Raxor's forearm with both hands, dwarfed by the Salamander's towering frame, yet walking beside him with stubborn determination rather than fear.
"She was hiding inside," Raxor said as he reached the center of the platform. His voice softened slightly as he looked down at her. "You're safe now." The girl swallowed and glanced back toward the blackened entrance of the main facility, then pointed with a trembling hand. "Another one like you," she said, her voice thin but steady. "He ran into the building." Her gaze lingered on Raxor's green ceramite as if trying to measure him against whatever she had witnessed.
Raxor gave the girl a single, firm nod. "I will find him," he promised, and there was no doubt in his tone.
Across the platform, Nira had gone rigid, her posture tightening as if an unseen blade had slid between her ribs. The color drained from her face, and for a split second she looked as though she might collapse again. Raxor reacted instantly, his instincts overriding all other considerations. "Sienn," he barked, the urgency in his voice so sharp it made even the child flinch. "Take her inside. Now."
Sienn blinked, clearly startled. He had never spoken to her like that, not with that clipped edge of command that brooked no delay. For half a heartbeat she hesitated, then nodded quickly, placing a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder and guiding her toward the open ramp. "Come on," she said softly, though her eyes flicked back to Raxor in confusion. He did not look at her. He was already moving.
He crossed the distance to Nira in long, pounding strides, kneeling in front of her and gripping her shoulders firmly to shake her. "Nira," he said, not unkindly but with force. "Look at me."
Her eyes were unfocused at first, staring past him at something only she could see. Then they snapped into clarity, and the grief there was raw. "He's gone," she whispered, her voice breaking in a way Raxor had rarely heard. "Qui-Gon… he's dead too." The words seemed to hollow her out as they left her mouth, as though speaking them made the loss irreversible in a way that simply feeling it had not.
Raxor did not understand the Jedi the way she did, nor the intricate threads of the Force that bound them together, but he understood death and loss. He understood what it meant when a presence vanished from the battlefield, when a warrior's flame was snuffed out mid-stride. His grip tightened slightly. "Then honor him later," he said firmly. "Right now, we need to move."
Without waiting for further protest, he bent and carefully lifted Ahsoka from Nira's arms. The Togruta barely stirred, her body limp and frighteningly light against the bulk of his armor. He cradled her against his chest with surprising care, ensuring her head was supported and her injured side was not jostled. Then he rose to his full height, towering over the chaos around them, and his voice took on that tone of absolute command that had led entire legions through firestorms.
"Nira," he ordered, meeting her eyes. "Get Padmé to the ship. Immediately."
For a moment she looked almost confused, as if the world had shifted beneath her feet and she had not yet found stable ground. The Force still echoed with Dooku's, and Qui-Gon's passing, a fading ripple that tugged at her senses and threatened to drag her back into that moment of loss. But Raxor's voice cut through the fog.
She nodded.
She turned and moved back toward Padmé's unconscious form, kneeling once more beside her. Sliding one arm carefully beneath Padmé's shoulders and the other beneath her knees, she lifted her, mindful of her condition, of the fragile life within her. Padmé's head lolled against Nira's shoulder, her dark hair brushing against her collar as the heat of Mustafar beat down upon them.
As Nira climbed the ramp with Padmé cradled carefully in her arms, something colder and far more terrible brushed against her senses. Her steps faltered for half a heartbeat as she felt him crest the edge of the platform beyond the smoke and flame.
"He's coming," she said, her voice low but urgent, carrying through the hold of the ship.
Raxor turned at once. He followed her gaze instinctively toward the ramp, toward the burning horizon beyond it, and then his eyes moved to what truly mattered. Padmé's limp form in Nira's arms, Ahsoka unconscious against the bulkhead, the small girl clutching the edge of a seat in frightened silence, and Sienn standing frozen near the center of the hold. In that single sweep of his vision, he learned the truth.
The pilot's voice crackled from the cockpit. "Engines are spooling, my lord, but it will take a moment to achieve full thrust."
"You do not have a moment," Raxor answered, his tone iron-hard. "Begin lift-off. Now. As fast as you can."
The engines began to whine louder, the deck vibrating faintly beneath their boots. Raxor did not wait for any confirmation. He turned away from the cockpit and walked toward the others, each step heavy with the weight of what he knew was coming. When he reached them, he reached up and disengaged the seals of his helm. The hiss of decompressing air filled the hold as he removed it, revealing his scarred face and steady, red eyes.
Sienn looked up at him, confusion giving way to dawning fear. "Whats going to happen?" She asked, her voice small.
For a moment he did not answer. He simply looked at her, truly looked at her, memorizing the lines of her face, the way her brow furrowed when she was frightened, the way her hands trembled despite her effort to stand tall. Then he knelt in front of her. He reached out and took one of her tiny hands between his armored fingers, careful not to squeeze too tightly.
"Whatever comes next," he said quietly, his voice no longer the commander of legions but something softer, something almost fragile, "you must be strong. You must take care of Nira. And you must protect Padmé. No matter what."
Sienn blinked at him, taken aback by the gravity in his tone. "Why are you talking like that?" she demanded, shaking her head as if she could physically reject the implication forming in her mind. "We're leaving. You said we're leaving right now."
Raxor's jaw tightened, and he shook his head slowly. "There isn't enough time."
Her breath hitched. "What do you mean?"
"Someone must stay," he said, each word measured, deliberate. "Someone must hold him long enough for you to reach safety."
The realization struck her like a physical blow. She shook her head immediately. "No. No, you're not— You can't—"
"I am the only one who can," he interrupted gently. "Nira is weakened. She nearly died stopping the SunEater. She cannot face him now."
Sienn began to cry, tears spilling down her cheeks. "There has to be another way. We can all fight him together!"
Raxor's expression softened in a way few had ever seen. He reached up and, with the broad surface of his gauntlet, carefully wiped the tears from her face, though they kept coming. "If we all stay," he said quietly, "then none of us leave."
She began to sob openly now, clutching at the front of his armor as if she could physically anchor him to the deck. "Don't," she pleaded over and over. "Please don't. You're my—" Her voice broke, but the word hung between them unspoken and undeniable.
He bowed his head slightly, resting his forehead briefly against hers. "I am sorry," he whispered. "This is the path the Emperor has need of me upon. My purpose is to ensure you live."
"There has to be another way!" she cried, her small fists striking uselessly against ceramite.
He wrapped his arms around her then, drawing her into a careful but firm embrace. For all his immense size and strength, he held her as if she were something infinitely breakable. She clung to him desperately, fingers digging into the seams of his armor, her sobs muffled against his chest. After a long moment, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.
"Be strong," he murmured. "For me."
He stood, and as he did, she collapsed back onto one of the ship's seats, covering her mouth with trembling hands to stifle the sob that tore from her throat. She watched him through blurred vision as he turned toward the ramp.
He passed Nira near the threshold. She had laid Padmé carefully against the bulkhead and turned back toward him, fury and grief warring in her eyes. "You don't have to do this," she said, her voice shaking despite her effort to steady it.
He stopped in front of her. For a moment the two simply looked at one another, the roar of the engines building around them. "Take care of her," he said quietly. "Take care of Sienn. And if my Father wakes, tell him I died protecting those whom I love."
"You can do that yourself," she replied, the words sharp but breaking at the edges. "We will meet again."
He knew it was likely a lie. She knew it too. But neither of them said it.
Instead, he inclined his head once in acknowledgment, then turned and walked down the ramp.
The heat struck him immediately as he stepped back onto the platform, the wind whipping ash and embers around his towering form. Behind him, the ship's engines flared brighter, lifting it inches from the ground. Ahead, through the shimmering haze, a figure emerged from the far end of the platform.
Raxor stopped at the center of the platform and turned back one last time. Through the open ramp he could see Nira standing beside Sienn, the child clutching her arm, Padmé lying unconscious within the hold. He gave them a single, solemn nod.
Then he raised his helm and locked it into place. The seals hissed closed, his face vanishing behind green ceramite and burning eye lenses. He turned forward once more, planting his boots firmly against the metal as the ship finally began to rise behind him.
And as Darth Vader stepped fully onto the platform, Raxor of the Salamanders set himself between the Sith Lord and departing ship.
===
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