A Different Fate

Blaster fire roared from all directions. 

Ahsoka ran. 

Her twin lightsabers flashed, a blur of blue and white against the crimson bolts screaming toward her. Her heart pounded as she ducked, barely evading a shot that seared past her left montral, close enough that she felt the heat. 

There were too many. 

She sprinted through the ruined streets of Sundari, leaping over debris as blaster bolts tore through the air behind her. 

The ambush had been perfect. 

The Martez sisters were dead. 

Rafa had gone down first, struck in the chest by a sniper before she could even scream. Trace had lived long enough to throw Ahsoka her last blaster before a Mandalorian blade cut her down from behind. 

Ahsoka had killed three of them before the rest opened fire. 

I should have sensed it. 

I should have been fast enough to stop it. 

Gritting her teeth, she spun mid-air, her lightsabers snapping forward to deflect another burst of fire. Six Mandalorians chased her now, their visors glowing in the night, jetpacks screaming as they pursued her through the crumbling city. 

A plasma rocket detonated against a collapsed building just as she leaped over it, the force of the blast slamming her into the ground. 

Pain. 

Ringing in her ears. 

Ahsoka rolled, barely avoiding the next volley as she threw out her hand—the Force burst from her palm, sending one of her pursuers crashing into a durasteel wall. 

A sniper shot cut through the smoke—too fast. 

She twisted, but it grazed her left arm. 

A sharp, burning pain. 

She bit back a cry and kept running. 

Her ship was close. 

She could see it now—just beyond the next street. 

The last street. 

One final sprint— 

Then the darkness shifted. 

A figure stood between her and escape. 

Armored. Cloaked. Towering. 

A crimson blade ignited. 

Ahsoka skidded to a stop, eyes wide. 

A Sith? No… 

Her mind screamed at her to run, but the air suddenly tightened. 

An invisible hand wrenched her off her feet. 

She gasped as she was lifted, her lightsabers falling from her grasp. 

No—! 

Her hands flew to her throat, fingers clawing at something that wasn't there. 

A cold, mechanical breath echoed through the ruined city. 

Hhhhaaahhh… 

Khhoooorrr… 

Ahsoka's legs kicked helplessly as her lungs began to burn. 

Her vision blurred. 

Her montrals rang. 

Not like this—! 

Then— 

A sharp, wet snap. 

White-hot pain— 

And darkness. 

— 

She woke up gasping. 

For a moment, her hands still clutched at her throat. The phantom sensation of the crushing grip lingered, her heart racing like she had just died. 

A dream. 

A nightmare. 

But it wasn't the first time. 

Ahsoka exhaled shakily, pressing her forehead against her knees as she steadied her breath. 

It's been years… why now? 

The Battle of Mandalore was over. 

She had escaped. 

Yet in her dreams… she hadn't. 

She took another breath and forced herself to stand. 

Beyond the viewport, the endless void of hyperspace stretched before her. 

She had bypassed dozens of Imperial patrols to get here. The Force had guided her hand, helped her navigate where sensors had failed. 

And now— 

The ship's systems beeped as the navcomputer announced arrival. 

Ahsoka reached the cockpit just as the starlines of hyperspace collapsed into realspace. 

A murky green world lay below her, swirling with mist and shadow. 

Dagobah. 

What am I supposed to find here? 

The Force had led her here. 

It was time to find out why. 

==================================== 

The galaxy had changed. 

Ahsoka could feel it in the Force. 

It was not just the fall of the Jedi, the rise of the Empire, or even the wars that still raged across the stars. It was deeper than that, something that pulsed beneath the surface, spreading like roots into every corner of civilization. 

Something fundamental had shifted. 

The Jedi were gone. 

Not just destroyed—erased. 

Their temples lay in ruins, their teachings outlawed, their names spoken only in whispers. Even before the war had ended, the public had already begun to turn on them. 

The HoloNet broadcasts had told the same tale over and over—how the Jedi had betrayed the Republic, how they had schemed to overthrow its leader. 

They were peacekeepers, not warriors, she had once believed. 

But the war made them into something else. And now? 

They were nothing at all. 

Ahsoka had seen it firsthand. 

The anger. The resentment. 

The people, beaten down by war, had looked for someone to blame. 

And the Empire had provided them with an answer. 

Jedi. 

Ahsoka knew the truth. 

She knew what had really happened. 

Palpatine—no, Lelouch vi Britannia—had played them all. 

He had turned the Republic into the Empire. 

He had taken the Jedi's place as the galaxy's protector. 

And now? 

The people worshiped him. 

She had seen it on a dozen worlds—statues raised in his honor, temples dedicated to his name, people kneeling in prayer to the God-Emperor. 

It disturbed her. 

She had once believed in the Force, in the balance of light and dark, but this? This was something else. 

This was devotion. 

This was faith. 

And faith could be dangerous. 

Ahsoka had kept to the Outer Rim, staying far from the Core's watchful eyes. But even there, she had seen the changes. 

The Imperial fleets had grown. 

Hundreds of new warships, thousands of smaller vessels, all flying the banner of the Empire. 

But it wasn't just the ships. 

The clones were not alone anymore. 

Grievous. 

That name had once filled Republic soldiers with fear. 

A butcher of Jedi. A terror of the Clone Wars. 

And now? 

Now he marched alongside the Empire. 

Vast, endless legions—had been reforged into the new war machine. 

BX commando droids now fought beside clone commandos. 

B1 battle droids stood in formation alongside clone troopers. 

Droidekas rolled in defensive lines, protecting their living officers. 

Even the dreaded Magnaguards had been repurposed, their electrostaffs crackling as they stood at attention beside Imperial knights. 

They had once been enemies. 

Now, they served. 

Grievous himself had been rebuilt, reforged into something even more terrifying than before. His hatred for the Jedi had made his transition to the Empire seamless. 

Had he always been like this? 

Had he always despised the Jedi for what they were? 

Or had he just been… lucky? 

Ahsoka didn't know. 

But she did know one thing—the Empire had become unstoppable. 

It had taken every strength of the Republic and the Separatists and merged them into something far deadlier. 

And the war was far from over. 

The Hutt Cartel was likely next. 

The Empire's fleets had expanded, their ships lining the hyperlanes, and whatever remained of the CIS worlds where either being worn down or already burning. The Empire was getting ready to strike at the criminal lords who had ruled the Rim for centuries. 

Ahsoka had overheard the whispers, the declarations on the HoloNet, and every coverage ended the same way, a chilling declaration to anyone who saw through the flowery words of it— 

"The Hutts have gone unpunished for too long. Justice will be served!" 

"They profit from suffering, from slavery, from vice and rot. Soon, justice will be served!" 

"The God-Emperor sees them for what they are and justice will be served!" 

"And soon, justice will be served!" 

It was madness. 

==================================== 

The air was thick with moisture. 

Dagobah was unlike any other world Ahsoka had ever set foot on. 

The Force pulsed through it like a great, slumbering beast. It was raw, untouched—alive. Every step she took felt heavier, as if the very ground itself resisted her presence, judging whether she was meant to be here. 

I don't even know if I'm meant to be anywhere anymore… 

The thought weighed heavily on her mind as she adjusted the hood of her cloak, stepping off the ramp of her ship and onto the damp, uneven ground. 

She had followed the Force here. 

It had whispered to her, guided her through the dangers of Imperial patrols, through the shattered remains of what once was the Jedi Order. 

And now, it had brought her to him. 

There, sitting on a gnarled old tree root, was Master Yoda. 

The last true Jedi. 

His green skin looked pale, his ears slightly lower than she remembered. His robes were worn, but his eyes… 

His eyes still carried the wisdom of centuries. 

Ahsoka felt something break inside her. 

Her feet moved before she even realized it. 

"Master Yoda!" 

She rushed to him like she had done so many times before. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn't alone. 

The small Jedi Master gave a slow nod, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. 

"Young Ahsoka… arrived, you have. Hmm." 

His voice was soft, but in it, she could hear something she had never expected—weariness. 

Not the kind that came from age. 

The kind that came from defeat. 

They sat together, side by side, on an old, damp log that had become Yoda's makeshift seat. 

It was strange. 

The last time she had spoken to him, she had been a Padawan preparing to leave the Jedi Order. Back then, she had thought she was making the hardest decision of her life. 

Now, there was no Order to leave. 

There was no Republic to protect. 

There was only the Empire. 

"Master Yoda, everything is gone," Ahsoka whispered, her fingers tightening into fists. "Everyone is gone." 

Her voice cracked. 

The weight of all the loss, all the death, pressed against her chest like a durasteel wall. She had buried it deep for so long, telling herself she had to keep moving, keep fighting. 

But here, in the presence of her old Master, it came spilling out. 

Her hands trembled as she looked at him. 

And Master Yoda… sighed. 

"Changed, the galaxy has. No place, the Jedi have." His ears lowered slightly, his voice tinged with something Ahsoka had never heard before. 

Resignation. 

"No, we can't just give up!" Ahsoka shot back, shaking her head. "There are still people out there who need us! We can't just—just disappear!" 

Yoda closed his eyes for a long moment before speaking again. 

"Foolish, we were. Blind. See, we did not. The will of the Force, it was not ours to command." 

Ahsoka felt a chill run down her spine. 

This wasn't the same Master Yoda she had known before. 

The wise, unshakable Jedi Master she had once respected now sat before her, burdened by defeat, by regret. 

She had seen Masters die before. 

But this? 

This was worse. 

This was acceptance. 

"There's still hope," she insisted, voice almost pleading. "We can still fight!" 

Yoda slowly opened his eyes. 

And then, he told her the truth. 

"To Coruscant, I went. After Kenobi, I did not follow. No. To the Emperor, my path led." 

Ahsoka stiffened. 

She had never asked about what had happened after Order 66—about what had happened to Yoda, to Obi-Wan. 

Until now. 

"And?" she pressed, breath catching in her throat. 

Master Yoda exhaled deeply, looking at the swampy ground beneath them. 

"Gone, the Senate was. In fire, the sky was set ablaze. A storm, of power, of fury." 

His eyes lifted to hers, dark with memory. 

"Tremble, the Force itself did. Held the entire planet in his grasp, the young Emperor did." 

Ahsoka froze. 

Her blood turned to ice. 

"What?" 

Master Yoda nodded. 

"Felt it, I did. His will, upon the world, pressed. A great hand, upon the throat of Coruscant. No escape, no resistance. As the Force willed it, so it became." 

Ahsoka's breathing quickened. 

She had faced Vader. She had fought against the Inquisitors. She had seen power. 

But this… 

This was something else. 

This was impossible. 

"Master, no one is that strong," she whispered. 

"Not the Jedi. Not even Anakin." 

"Wrong, you are," Yoda said simply. "Understood, the Force, he does. Far beyond what the Jedi or Sith ever have." 

Ahsoka felt anger bubbling in her chest. 

She stood up suddenly, her hands clenching at her sides. 

This wasn't right. 

This couldn't be right. 

The Force wasn't something to be commanded. It wasn't something that could be controlled. 

It was balance. 

It was life. 

And yet, Master Yoda spoke as if the Emperor had made it his servant. (A.N: No (t yet) but I imagine to the Jedi would sooner believe that someone has enslaved the force rather than the force has decided they have outlived their purpose.) 

As if resisting him was meaningless. 

Ahsoka shook her head, her breath coming in shallow gasps. 

"No. I refuse to believe that." 

Yoda watched her for a long moment before sighing. 

"Believe, you may not. If wrong, I am... reveals itself, a much more horrible truth does... That the will of the force, the young Emperor serves... and need of us, the force itself no longer has..." 

Ahsoka turned away, fists trembling. 

"I'll find my own answers." 

She started walking back toward her ship. 

Master Yoda did not stop her. 

As she reached the boarding ramp, she hesitated for just a moment. 

Then, without another word, she stepped inside, the doors hissing shut behind her. 

And just like that, she was alone once more.