Outer Rim – Celvan's Fall
Night came early on Celvan, a peaceful world known for its rich star port trade and open alliance with the New Republic.
Without warning, its skies darkened not by clouds, but by descending ships: obsidian-black cruisers with Final Order markings twisted into jagged runes.
Civilians barely had time to scream.
Snoke's Shadow-Class destroyers deployed drop-pods filled with enforcers: genetically spliced warriors bred for terror, not conquest.
They marched through streets, executing resistance, transmitting the broadcasts across galactic channels.
A voice echoed over the screams:
"This is the price of forgetting who truly ruled. The price of false peace."
Snoke, aboard the Abyssal Throne, watched with twisted amusement.
"Begin the harvests. Strip their databanks. Let the Republic feel the first wound."
Coruscant – The Heart Shakes
Inside the reformed Senate Hall, Padmé Amidala stood frozen before the holo feed. Flames engulfed Celvan's spires. The signal came directly from Snoke's fleet.
"How many casualties?" she whispered.
"Hundreds of thousands in the first wave," Mon Mothma said grimly. "Possibly more."
Nelly Organa, flanked by Rebel tacticians, slammed her fist into the console.
We said they'd come. And now they're here.
No, Padmé replied. "Now we answer.
Vader's Citadel – A New Directive
Darth Vader stared at the same feed in silence. Behind him, his elite task force composed of former Inquisitors, loyal clone remnants, and newly forged commanders waited for orders.
Snoke believes himself more than he is.
He turned to his officers.
"Dispatch fleets to the Mid Rim. Evacuate outer colonies. Initiate Project Bastion."
They nodded.
"And the Senate?" one asked.
"They will talk. I will act."
Serion's Observatory – Eyes in the Flame
From the blackened peaks of Zereth Prime, Serion watched the galactic signals ripple through his tactical sphere.
His lieutenants awaited command.
But Serion merely observed.
"Snoke strikes now. A half-born blade wielded by a dead emperor."
He turned away.
"Let the Republic bleed. Let the Empire howl. Only then do we forge something worthy of eternity."
He extended his hand toward a map of the galaxy five major hyperspace corridors glowed red.
"Initiate Phantom Fleets. No names. No signals. I want to know where the next wound will be."
Republic War Council – Fire and Fractures
Inside the hastily expanded Galactic Defense Chamber, Padmé, Bail Organa, Mon Mothma, zabine , and Nelly Organa gathered around a rapidly updating galactic threat chart.
"Snoke is not simply testing us," Mon Mothma said. "He's carving us into pieces."
"He's also recruiting," Sabine added. "Imperial loyalists, warlords, mercenary fleets some even from the Unknown Regions."
Padmé's voice cut through the tension.
"Then we strike back. Not defensively strategically."
Nelly nodded, pulling up a list.
"We hit his supply lines, his outposts. We take back the momentum."
Bail leaned in.
"And if he goes after the Core?"
All eyes turned to the central systems Coruscant, Chandrila, Naboo.
Padmé's stare was unflinching.
Then we hold. The Core will not fall again.
Snoke's Throne – Hunger Unbound
Aboard his throne-world dreadnought, Snoke stared into a pool of red light.
His body, malformed yet pulsating with dark potential, flickered as if not fully bound to this reality.
"The Jedi are gone. The Sith are broken. Only one thing remains in my path…"
He whispered a name.
"Serion."
His ship changed course. Toward the Outer Rim. Toward the fringe where shadows stirred.
"Let's see what the void made of you."