Darth Zannah

The marketplace bustled with noise and color—vendors shouting prices, droids trundling past, children darting between stalls. But none of it touched the dark-robed figure moving silently through the crowd.

Darth Zannah moved with purpose, her hood drawn low to conceal her face, shadows clinging to her like a second cloak. The weight of her presence parted those in her path, though none could say why. She paused briefly at a fruit stall, gloved hand brushing across the produce before moving on without a word.

Beneath the hood, her yellow Sith eyes scanned the crowd—not for food, not for trinkets, but for whispers. For signs. For anything... or anyone... worth her attention.