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Amid the bleak expanse of Hoth's icy terrain, Zara, garbed in the chilling guise of a snowtrooper, was commanding a squadron of stormtroopers in a relentless assault against the rebel stronghold. The frigid air bit at her exposed skin, yet her determination burned fiercely as she led the charge, her blaster spitting bolts of death into the ranks of the enemy.
With each precise shot, rebel soldiers fell like snowflakes before a tempest, their futile resistance no match for the unyielding might of the Empire. Grenades launched from Zara's steady hand erupted amidst the enemy's trenches, scattering debris and chaos in their wake as the Rebels fought desperately to hold their ground.
Yet amidst the chaos and bloodshed, a moment of hesitation seized Zara's heart as her gaze fell upon a wounded rebel, his cries for mercy echoing through the battlefield like a haunting melody. For an instant, doubt gnawed at her resolve, a flicker of compassion in the depths of her hardened soul.
But before she could act, Kaz, her one constant, stalking her like her own shadow, stepped forward with a grim determination etched upon his features. In a swift motion, he dispatched the wounded rebel with a single, decisive shot, his voice firm as he spoke the words that echoed in Zara's ears.
"Never falter," he admonished, his voice a steely command that brooked no argument. "I will protect you, always, but I will not serve to correct your own incompetence."
As his lips met hers in a fleeting kiss, Zara's heart quickened with a surge of conflicting emotions—desire mingled with sorrow, longing intertwined with regret. She yearned for the warmth of his embrace, the touch of his lips against her own a bittersweet temptation that stabbed at her heart.
As a tear slipped unbidden down the cheek of this Zara lost to time and memory, the dreaming Zara watched the scene unfold, her own heart aching. In that moment, as she watched the glassy liquid streak her face, she wondered if even before Solaris had cast her soul into disarray, she had possessed a shard of morality—a slight light within, despite the all-consuming darkness of her actions. Could a monster like her ever truly have been a girl?
⭑ ⭑ ⭑
Solaris had now taken her elsewhere. Zara was standing resplendent in her Imperial uniform, the weight of her accomplishments heavy upon her shoulders as she prepared to receive the highest honor bestowed upon a servant of the Emperor. The air was thick with anticipation as she made her way through winding corridors, the echo of her footsteps a solemn cadence in the hallowed halls of the Imperial Palace.
As she entered the grand chamber where the ceremony was to take place, Zara's heart quickened with a mixture of pride and trepidation, her eyes drawn to the imposing figure of Darth Vader himself, a towering sentinel of darkness and power. His presence loomed over the gathered assembly like a spectre of death, his gaze penetrating and unyielding as he surveyed the room with an air of authority. Master, she thought.
