Anakin Skywalker

Anakin stood alone in the quiet corridor of Home One, white armor gleaming under the sterile lights. Rebel officers passed him warily, casting uncertain glances at the once-feared Dark Lord now walking their halls. He ignored them.

At the viewport, he watched stars drift past in silence.

“I never thought I’d see this ship from this side,” he muttered, voice low through the still-familiar modulation of his reconfigured respirator. His reflection stared back—no longer a symbol of terror, but of penance.

He folded his hands behind his back.