The heat of the jungle was quickly surpressed by a chilling wind. Snow suddenly obscured their sight in a white flurry of motion, slowly dying down to just a gentle breeze of ice and snow. As their vision cleared, they could see tall, sleek architecture. Elegant yet oppressive buildings reaching far into the sky above, where the stars seemed like distant needletips as their light were drowned out by the planet's.
A shout broke the windy silence.
A tall pureblood, slender and authorative in appearance, exited a building. Behind him was a someone garbed in red robes and armor, like the Imperial Guard, followed by four soldiers; two carried a stretcher, upon where the third one lay dead, and the fourth carried an unconscious child.
The red-garbed Guard spoke to the pureblood, but his words were muffled by his helmet. The words of the pureblood, however, were not obscured. "We have the child. The Hand is pleased. Leave nothing alive."
Sounds of battle flooded their senses, and the group disappeared in the oncoming barrage of snow. And as the battle dimmed, the red glow of a lightsaber gave them a light to follow out of the blizzard.
On the scene, a woman dressed in armored robes, her face obscured by a hood, slowly paced in front of a pair of Sith. A man and a woman. There was something familiar about their faces... like seeing yourself in the reflection, and realising how much you have suddenly changed over many years.
"A traitor's daughter," the woman spoke, her lightsaber steady in her hand. "It was only a matter of time before you committed the same mistake as your father. The Emperor's will and his Wrath will not be denied."
Before any protest could be given, the blonde-haired Sith was cut down. The man cried out and threw himself at her, but was met by the hilt of her lightsaber to his face.
"I am sorry, Sylvain, my brother. The same goes for you too."
In that instance, the red lightsaber's cut could be felt down his body as it struck through him.
And the snow turned red.
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