The war had raged so long that most citizens of the Republic had forgotten what peace felt like.
But even in a galaxy accustomed to battle reports and distant explosions, no one expected the heart of the Republic itself to burn.
On a command bridge lit by cold emerald hololights, Count Dooku stood beside the skeletal silhouette of General Grievous. The Separatist flagship drifted in the void beyond the Mid Rim, its windows framing the slow rotation of distant stars.
Dooku's hands were folded within his cloak, posture elegant, voice calm.
"The time has come," he said. "Strike the capital. Cut the head from the body."
Grievous's mechanical fingers flexed with a dry metallic rasp. His eyes yellow and reptilian within the bone-white mask narrowed.
"The Chancellor will be taken alive."
"Alive," Dooku confirmed. "The Republic must see him captured. Panic will fracture their command."
Grievous's laugh grated like grinding steel.
"The Jedi will come."
Dooku allowed the faintest smile.
"Yes. They always do."
Coruscant awoke to war.
At first it was only a shadow moving across the skyline vast shapes eclipsing the morning light. Then alarms began to howl across the planetary grid, echoing between towers that stretched into the stratosphere. Citizens looked upward and saw the sky filled with ships, thousands of them, sliding from hyperspace like blades drawn from darkness.
Turbolasers ignited.
The heavens became a lattice of green and red fire.
Traffic lanes collapsed into chaos as civilian speeders fled in every direction. Senate guards sealed corridors. Newsfeeds erupted into frantic broadcasts. The Republic Navy scrambled, but the Separatist fleet was already upon them, descending through defensive lines with merciless precision.
At the center of the storm, a single objective guided the assault:
The Chancellor.
General Grievous moved through the Senate District like a living calamity. His guards cut through security detachments with ruthless efficiency while he advanced through shattered halls and falling masonry, his cloak trailing smoke and sparks.
Supreme Chancellor Palpatine stood within his office as the doors burst open. His face bore the expression of a man witnessing inevitability shock carefully balanced with composure. Mas Amedda shouted orders that no one heard. The guards fell. The room filled with the stench of burning metal.
Grievous loomed over the Chancellor, mechanical limbs unfolding.
"You are coming with me."
Palpatine allowed himself to be seized, his gaze flickering briefly not with fear, but with calculation.
Far above the burning planet, two starfighters tore from hyperspace.
Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi burst into the chaos, their ships weaving between exploding cruisers and spinning debris. The battle unfolded in every direction capital ships exchanging broadsides, fighters darting like insects through clouds of shrapnel.
Anakin's voice crackled through the comm.
"I've never seen anything like this."
Obi-Wan's tone remained measured, though his eyes tracked the devastation below.
"Remember, Anakin our objective is rescue, not heroics."
Anakin smirked despite the inferno around them.
"Rescuing the Chancellor is heroic."
They dove through the crossfire, their starfighters slicing past the hull of a shattered frigate. Clone pilots flanked them, holding formation as they advanced toward the Separatist command ship looming like a city in orbit.
Anakin's thoughts raced faster than the engines.He's down there. The Chancellor. This is it. This is where it counts.
Obi-Wan, meanwhile, watched Anakin's movements with quiet concern. The young Jedi flew with instinct and aggression, brilliant but reckless like a star burning too hot for its own good.
"Easy," Obi-Wan murmured over the channel. "We're not invincible."
"Speak for yourself," Anakin replied, banking hard to avoid a volley of fire. "R2, stay with me!"
The droid chirped indignantly as sparks flew past the canopy.
They pierced the defensive perimeter and latched onto the Separatist flagship, slipping inside its hangar amid the thunder of distant bombardments. The air inside smelled of coolant and scorched alloy. Battle droids advanced, only to fall in flashes of blue and green light as sabers ignited.
Obi-Wan deflected blaster fire with elegant economy. Anakin moved like lightning fast, decisive, impatient.
"Still no sign of the Chancellor," Obi-Wan said, scanning the corridor.
"We'll find him," Anakin answered, voice edged with certainty. "We always do."
Deeper within the ship, alarms echoed through endless steel corridors. The distant rumble of artillery shook the walls. Every step brought them closer to the heart of the invasion and to the trap waiting there.
High above Coruscant, the sky continued to burn.Below, the Republic trembled.And in the center of it all, the stage had been perfectly set.