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“You will tell me the code to open the docking bay,” Ezra said, leveling his lightsaber at the man’s chest. At one time, Ezra would have waved a hand and spoken calmly, using the Force for a Jedi mind trick the way Kanan taught him. But that way is weak, Ezra thought. Fear is so much more effective.
The Imperial officer stumbled backwards until his back hit the control panel. “I’m not going to release your ship,” the officer said. His voice remained calm, but Ezra could feel his growing panic through the Force. It was intoxicating, knowing that Ezra was the source of that fear. “I’ve already called for backup—any minute now, a light cruiser will show up and then you’ll—”
The officer’s impotent threats died out as he clawed at his throat. Ezra raised his hand, and the officer lifted slightly off the floor.
“Tell me the code,” Ezra said, squeezing his hand into a fist. What had earlier been panic was now full-blown terror; the officer’s face twisted in fright, and he gasped uselessly for breath.
“I—” the officer choked out. Ezra released some of the pressure, allowing him the air to speak; but instead of telling him the code, the officer actually smirked. “I’m not afraid of you—”
Ezra saw red. The fury that gripped his heart was blinding, and without thinking, he squeezed his fist hard enough to draw blood from where his fingernails dug into the skin of his palm.
Perhaps Ezra would have continued squeezing, but a sickening snap broke through his haze. Ezra released his fist and his senses returned to him all at once in a terrible wave as the officer slid down the panel, eyes open and unblinking.
Ezra stood for a moment, staring at the body. Nausea blossomed in his stomach, and he felt tears sting at his eyes.
“Well done, Ezra,” came a smooth voice from behind him.
“I— I didn’t mean to—” Ezra said, bile rising in his throat. “Is he dead?”
“No, no, not dead,” Maul said, looking down disinterestedly at the man. “He is paralyzed though—you broke his neck.”
Maul stood next to Ezra for a moment, and they stared at the man together.
“I didn’t get the code,” Ezra said haltingly. He had been travelling with Maul for weeks now, and it was still impossible to predict Maul’s moods. Usually such failures earned him sneers and insults. Once or twice, Maul had made threats of death. Today, however, when Ezra reached out with the Force, he felt Maul’s deep pleasure at Ezra’s actions.
“No matter,” Maul said, casually. “Now finish him.”
“What?” Ezra asked, his blood turning to ice.
“He’s of no use to us like this. Kill him.”
“He— he can’t hurt us,” Ezra said. “He’s not armed or anything.”
In the Force, there was a flash of annoyance from Maul. “Do as I tell you—”
Any further discussion was cut off when a sudden shrill warning sounded in the Force. Without even thinking, both Ezra and Maul ignited their lightsabers and turned to the door on the side of the command room; less than a quarter of a second later, the door exploded open.
Through the haze of smoke, Ezra allowed the Force to guide him. He relaxed and easily deflected each of the blasts back at the attackers, and beside him, Maul did the same. Seconds later, the smoke cleared, and eight dead stormtroopers laid in the hallway.
Not all of the blasts had gone directly between the stormtroopers and the lightsaber wielders, however. The paralyzed officer from before was dead as well, a single singed hole gaping in his chest. It was impossible to know whether the killing blow had come from a wayward shot by a stormtrooper, or if it had been a misdirected deflection from Maul or Ezra.
Ezra stared at the corpse for a moment longer, and Maul settled a hand on his shoulder. “I suppose that takes care of him,” he said, and though Ezra didn’t look, he heard the self-satisfied smile in Maul’s voice. “How curious that you said you wouldn’t kill this officer, and yet you killed all the stormtroopers.”
“They were shooting at us,” Ezra said. “Killing them was self-defense.”
“Self-defense,” Maul mocked. “Look at them.” He turned Ezra to face the pile of bodies outside the door. “Yes, those stormtroopers were armed. But look at how easy killing them was. Were they any better prepared to fight you than the officer, even after he was paralyzed?”
Ezra didn’t say anything, but turned his head to stare at the dead officer.
“Don’t you see the hypocrisy of the Jedi?” Maul asked. “How is it just to show mercy to the officer and not the stormtroopers?”
“I… I could have shown mercy to all of them,” Ezra said, but his voice sounded weak even to his own ears.
“Another spineless Jedi platitude,” Maul sighed. “You are strong, they were weak. It’s as simple as that.”
Maul stepped forward and pressed a series of buttons on the console. Outside the viewport, Ezra saw the door to the docking bay open. “You had the code,” Ezra said, frowning. “You didn’t even need me to get it from the officer.”
“No, I didn’t,” Maul agreed smoothly.
Ezra waited to feel something, but he was no longer surprised that Maul would manipulate him in that way. They had agreed, back when Ezra first joined Maul, that Maul would never lie; as far as Ezra knew, Maul had indeed always told the truth, even if it was a skewered version of it. Thinking back, Ezra remembered that Maul hadn’t said that Ezra needed to get the code, only that he could interrogate the officer.
Maul walked over to the hallway where the stormtroopers lay. He stepped over them uncaringly, and Ezra trailed behind, picking his way between the corpses.
They reached their ship without trouble. Ezra didn’t know if he and Maul had killed all the troops stationed at this no-name base, or if the remaining survivors had decided fighting wasn’t worth it.
“You don’t feel...” Ezra began, once they were in hyperspace, “bad?”
“About what?” Maul replied, his eyes trained on the lights streaking past the viewport.
Ezra studied his profile. “Killing.”
“Ezra,” Maul said, as if warning off further discussion of the topic.
“You said I could ask you anything.”
“You can,” Maul answered. “But you may not like what I say.”
They sat silently for a moment. Ezra tried to look out at the blue and white tunnel of hyperspace, but the light was dizzying; Maul was the only person Ezra had ever met who could watch the starlines like they were a holovid. Ezra wondered, not the first time, what secrets Maul thought the hypnotic swirl of hyperspace held for him.
“No,” Maul eventually said, and Ezra looked over to find Maul studying his face. “The power of the dark side, Ezra, is that it frees you from your chains. It is simply the truth of the galaxy that one must kill or be killed. Why would I mourn those that would see me dead?”
“But the paralyzed officer—”
“Would still have killed you if he were able.”
“He wasn’t able,” Ezra said, and felt that now-familiar anger twist his heart. “That’s my point.”
“Why does that matter?” Maul asked. “Whether you killed him when he was paralyzed or killed him when he could hold a blaster, the end result is still the same.”
An uncomfortable silence blanketed the cockpit for a few moments. “Is that what your Master taught you?” Ezra eventually asked. He knew Maul hated talking about the shadowy figure known as Darth Sidious, and though sometimes Ezra asked about him to anger Maul, today he was simply curious.
Maul’s face contorted in anger for a moment, but relaxed when he realized Ezra wasn’t trying to needle him. “Yes,” he ground out.
Ezra looked down at his hands, gripping his new lightsaber. “Then that’s a Sith belief.”
“Perhaps,” Maul agreed, calm again. “You asked me to show you great power. I can hate the Sith and recognize their strength.”
And that was, at its core, the central pillar of their relationship. Ezra hadn’t sought out Maul to become a Sith, but to destroy the Sith, no matter what it took.
It had begun after Malachor. Ezra returned to the base with the newly-blind Kanan, but nothing was the same. Everyone treated him like he was made of fragile glass; conversations seemed to be made up of whispered words and worried glances, and even Sabine and Zeb treated interactions with Ezra as minefields, tiptoeing around and refusing to simply treat him like normal. Meanwhile, Kanan wouldn’t even speak to Ezra, choosing instead to spend his time alone. Probably spending his time blaming me for his blindness and Ahsoka’s death, Ezra had decided. The few times they spoke Kanan did or said nothing to dissuade Ezra from that belief: Kanan suddenly acted as distant and aloof as he had once been warm and friendly.
Ezra had thought going to the Jedi temple on Lothal to build a new lightsaber would help, but Kanan refused to come. Ezra had travelled to the temple alone, and found a crystal with only his anger as a guide.
Ten days after completing his new lightsaber, Ezra was ready to tear his hair out. He had no one to talk to, no one who understood his frustration… except for the holocron. Each night, Ezra would whisper his secrets to it, and the voice would comfort him.
“They think I’m weak,” Ezra said, anger flowing like blood in his veins.
“Of course they do,” the holocron whispered, as sweet as a mother’s embrace. “They don’t see your strength.”
“How can I show them I’m strong?” Ezra asked.
“There is much you can learn.”
“Then teach me.”
The holocron’s answer was simple. “I can’t.”
Ezra clenched his jaw. “Before you said you could teach me,” Ezra said, gripping the holocron so tightly its edges cut into his hands.
“I can’t teach you,” the holocron whispered, and its light flooded his room with its blood-red glow. “But I can lead you to one who can.”
Ezra had left in the middle of the night. Some savage part of Ezra wondered how long it took Kanan to realize Ezra was gone, or if Kanan still even knew he had left. The holocron led him to Lotho Minor, the Junk World. The planet’s surface was entirely covered in refuse; trash from a thousand systems littered the environment, creating unnatural mountains and valleys in twisted and nightmarish shapes.
Maul’s ship, a TIE fighter stolen from one of the Inquisitors on Malachor, sat atop one of these artificial plateaus. Ezra landed the Phantom nearby, and got out hesitantly. Maul was waiting for him, of course, standing perfectly still with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Ah, my apprentice comes to resume his training,” Maul said, his face smug.
“I’m still not your apprentice.”
“We shall see,” Maul said, tilting his head. “How did you find me?”
For some reason Ezra didn’t tell him about the voice in the holocron. “I figured you’d come to a planet of trash—it seems like your sort of place.”
Maul scrunched his nose up in annoyance but didn’t reply.
“Do you really want to destroy the Empire?” Ezra asked after a moment.
Even mentioning the Empire made Maul’s face harden in fury. “Yes,” he whispered longingly.
“And you—” Ezra stuttered, “—you aren’t a Sith?”
He looked appraisingly at Ezra. “No. The Empire, the Sith,” Maul said. “They’re one in the same. I would see the end of both.”
Thunder rumbled in the far distance, and Ezra took a deep breath.
“I won’t be your apprentice,” Ezra said slowly. “But if you’re willing to teach me, I’ll learn from you.”
Maul smiled. “We shall learn together then, as equals—as brothers.” He offered his hand to Ezra, but Ezra just stared at it.
“You have to promise me something,” Ezra said.
“Anything.”
“You lied to me,” Ezra said, and could feel his own strength in the Force grow as the wave of anger took him. “Back on Malachor, you said that the temple could help us. But you tricked us!” Ezra didn’t mean to shout or lose control of his tether on the Force, but both the Phantom and Maul’s ship creaked and scraped backwards on the ground.
If Maul was surprised, he didn’t show it. “I didn’t lie,” he said. “I simply… talked around the truth.”
“It’s the same thing,” Ezra spat.
Maul studied Ezra’s face for a moment, before raising a hand to his breast. “I swear, Ezra, that I will never lie to you.”
He’s never lied, Ezra thought, looking back out at the starlines in the present. But he still “talks around the truth.” It didn’t bother Ezra anymore—he had come to expect that Maul would twist his words, exploiting Ezra without directly ordering him to act in any certain way.
Ezra had become more and more accustomed to much over the past few weeks. Where the Ghost crew and other rebel squadrons were careful about fighting the Empire, planning each attack with care, Maul would engage any Imperial base or ship he saw. Where the Ghost crew tried to rely on stealth where possible, Maul would always attack head-on. Where Ezra had once used a stun gun instead of a blaster with the ability to kill, Maul sought carnage. That one, Ezra hadn’t embraced. He wouldn’t kill unarmed people, would only kill if they attacked him first.
It annoyed Maul, Ezra knew. But Maul couldn’t force Ezra to kill—their agreement was to be as equals.
So instead of Maul issuing orders to Ezra, Maul would talk to him, trying to convince Ezra to see his way. Today’s conversation still left Ezra’s stomach in knots; what was the difference between those stormtroopers and that officer? Maul was right: the stormtroopers were no real threat, no more of a threat than that paralyzed officer. Ezra tried to imagine a Jedi response, but there were no Jedi voices he could think of without feeling sick: Yoda led him to Malachor, Ahsoka was dead because of him, and Kanan—Ezra felt that bloodrush of anger again. Kanan abandoned me. Kanan hates me, and I hate him—
“Careful, Ezra,” Maul purred. “Save your anger for later.”
Ezra forced himself to relax, and noticed how the metal in the cockpit creaked as it was released from his accidental grip.
“Sorry,” Ezra muttered, and Maul twisted his mouth into what was likely supposed to be a smile.
When the ship dropped out of hyperspace, the planet looming in front of the viewport looked not unlike Lothal. The surface was a tapestry of rich blues and greens, with white clouds floating in the atmosphere.
“Where are we?” Ezra asked.
“Naboo,” Maul said, and to Ezra’s surprise, Maul seemed nervous. He didn’t look nervous—of course Maul wouldn’t have a physical tell for enemies to pick up on—but Ezra knew him well enough to feel his flutter of anxiety in the Force.
“Why are we here?”
“There’s an Imperial garrison in the capital city of Theed,” Maul replied. “I thought we might enjoy liberating the Naboo people from that Imperial military presence.”
Ezra frowned. Naboo did have an Imperial garrison, but as far as he could remember, it was a relatively small one: all things considered, the people of Naboo were suffering far less under the Empire than most of its neighboring planets.
The ship had passed into the upper atmosphere before a voice crackled through the comm, asking for their landing codes. As the ship neared Theed, Ezra thought Naboo didn’t look like it needed liberation. The fields were still filled with healthy-looking vegetables, the deep lakes and vast oceans were still clear and unpolluted, and the city of Theed seemed like a normal, even particularly affluent, bustling town.
Maul landed the ship in some civilian docking bay, but instead of walking out into the street, he climbed up a ladder to the roof. Ezra followed, curious. Apparently, Maul’s goal was to sneak through Theed. Instead of killing every stormtrooper in sight, Maul and Ezra climbed and jumped from rooftop to rooftop above the stormtroopers’ heads.
At one point, they crossed over the heads of three stormtroopers, standing together in a little group and chatting. All at once, Ezra was hit with a wave of dark desire. It would be so easy, he thought, eyeing the oblivious troopers, to jump down, to kill them where they stand—only a few seconds and there would be three fewer stormtroopers terrorizing the galaxy. Without thinking, he moved to the side of the building, preparing to jump down, readying his lightsaber—
“Ezra!” Maul hissed, grabbing him and pulling him back from the edge. “What are you doing?”
“I—I was…” Ezra shook his head. What was I doing? But then all at once his feelings of confusion turned to anger. “Why are we sneaking around on top of these buildings? We can fight them!”
Maul narrowed his eyes. “I thought you preferred ‘sneaking around,’” he observed.
“There are hardly any stormtroopers here,” Ezra said. “You’ve made me run headfirst into places way more dangerous than this!”
Maul studied Ezra’s face for a moment before kneeling down and gesturing over the side of the building. “Very well. If you seek carnage, then I will not stop you.”
“I don’t want carnage,” Ezra said, kneeling next to Maul. “I want justice.”
Maul quirked his mouth into an ironic smile. “Then take your justice,” he said, sneering the last word as he looked back over the edge to the unsuspecting people below.
Ezra ground his teeth together as one of the stormtroopers laughed below. What’s wrong with me? He thought, a headache unfurling behind his eyes. “No, let’s—” he sighed. “Let’s keep going.”
Maul’s face was unreadable, and when Ezra reached out with the Force, he felt a strange mix of pride and concern and confusion emanating from Maul. And always, always, that deep well of hate.
When they reached the Royal Palace, Maul grabbed Ezra’s arm to stop him from continuing forward into what looked like a hangar.
“You said the Imperial garrison was through here,” Ezra whispered.
“Yes, but that way goes by the power generator,” Maul said quietly.
Ezra furrowed his brow. “Power generator? Why does that matter?”
“It doesn’t,” Maul whispered, but he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and whispered something Ezra couldn’t make out—though it sounded like a name.
“Are you okay?” Ezra asked.
Maul dropped the hands from his eyes and sighed heavily. “Yes. Let’s—let’s go.”
Maul led Ezra instead around the palace through a series of courtyards. The grounds were empty: Ezra assumed that all civilians had been moved off the royal grounds and all the military personnel must have been at their posts. There certainly wasn’t anyone caring for the gardens. The flower beds were a tangle of weeds, and the rose bushes looked choked where thorny vines twisted and strangled the flowers.
They finally stopped when they reached a small peristyle. The columns looked as though they might have once been red, though now the paint was chipped and peeling. The fountain in the center of the courtyard was dry, but the lingering smell of urine suggested that stormtroopers had been using the fountain in place of a refresher.
Maul took off his small bag. “Here,” he said, handing Ezra four small boxes.
“What are these?” Ezra asked, peering at the little electronics.
“Bombs,” Maul replied.
“We aren’t just going to attack the stormtroopers?” Ezra asked, holding the boxes far more gingerly than he had been a moment before.
“No, no, a simple straightforward attack won’t suffice this time.” Maul drew out a small holoprojector. “The garrison is built into portions of the palace. If we want to destroy the garrison, we’ll have to destroy the palace.”
“When we’ve attacked places in the past, we haven’t used bombs,” Ezra said, and he felt suddenly nauseous.
“Naboo is where the Emperor is from,” Maul said, and at invoking the man, even if by his official title, Ezra felt Maul’s deep fear in his gut as viscerally as if it were his own.
Ezra nodded. “Then this,” and he held up one of the bombs, “will hurt the Emperor?”
“Yes,” Maul breathed.
“Then I’m in. What’s your plan?”
Maul’s smile was as cold as ever, but Ezra felt a deep pang of pride in knowing he had pleased Maul so. “Here is the palace,” Maul said, and with a click the holoprojector showed a three-dimensional image of the complex. “We are standing here,” he pointed at a small peristyle in the bottom left, “and we should place charges here.” With a second click, eight red spots appeared on the map. “The bombs are on timers, so once you place them you’ll only have a few minutes to get clear of the blast.”
“We’ll meet back here,” Ezra said. Maul nodded.
Placing the first two charges was easy. There were almost no stormtroopers around—in fact, there were none. Ezra frowned, the third charge in his hand. This one was supposed to go in the throne room of the palace, but now that he stood there, it didn’t seem much like a garrison. The throne sat empty and dust floated lazily through the air.
Suddenly, a warning in the Force—
“Hey!” A voice called, and before the person could raise their blaster, Ezra pulled them toward him, his lightsaber igniting with a snap-hiss. Ezra stopped pulling when his lightsaber was less than an inch from the stormtrooper’s neck.
“Where’s the garrison?” Ezra asked.
“What?”
“The Imperial garrison,” Ezra replied, and let his lightsaber singe the edge of the armor at the trooper’s neck. “Where is it?”
The person’s fear crashed over Ezra like a wave, and Ezra almost smiled at the sense of power overwhelming him. “The—the garrison is outside! I mean, outside the city! Oh please, let me live, I’ll show you, just—”
“It isn’t here?” Ezra asked, feeling sick.
“No! No! This is just a palace,” and the person broke down into a mix of muttering and weak sobs.
He lied to me. The thought pounded in Ezra’s skull, threatening to blind him with its force. A terribly weak part of him thought, maybe it was a mistake? But Ezra knew the truth. Maul knew exactly where the garrison was, and had lied to Ezra’s face about it.
He lied to me, he lied to me, he lied to me—the litany echoed mockingly in his head as he let the stormtrooper fall onto the ground. Ezra, half-dazed, walked through the halls, the third and fourth charges cupped in his hands. Ezra tried to recall the map of the palace: if Ezra was to place his four in the areas by the throne room, that would mean that Maul’s charges would be going—Ezra frowned. In the hangar and power generator room.
Ezra hurried through the palace halls, and with each step his original sense of betrayal hardened and twisted into hate. Deep anger tore through his heart, and he had to fist his hands to stop them from shaking in rage.
Ezra found his way to the hangar. In front of him, a long corridor led the way to the reactor room, though the corridor was protected by a series of red laser gates. Through the red shield barriers, Ezra could see Maul standing over the reactor pit, his lightsaber drawn.
“Maul!” Ezra yelled, and when the gates began to open, he ran in toward him.
Maul looked up, but didn’t seem particularly worried about Ezra’s approach, turning his back to Ezra.
The gates began to close, but Ezra flipped through the last one, landing in a roll on the floor of the reactor room. Though Maul’s lightsaber was ignited at his side, he didn’t raise it; instead, he continued staring down the reactor shaft.
Ezra stood, drew and lit his lightsaber, and pointed it at Maul. “You lied to me,” he whispered, and hated how hoarse his voice sounded.
“Yes,” Maul agreed smoothly, finally turning to face Ezra. “Did you place your bombs?”
“You lied to me!” Ezra shouted.
Maul waved a hand, and the remaining two bombs lifted out of the small pouch on Ezra’s belt and floated to him. Maul frowned. “I suppose two is better than none, though I’m disappointed you couldn’t even do this simple task.”
Ezra almost felt like his skin was vibrating in fury. “We were supposed to be partners,” he hissed. “You promised you wouldn’t lie!”
“I only lied a little,” Maul said, tossing the bombs down the reactor pit without activating them. “There may not be a garrison here, but it would perhaps bother the Emperor to see this palace destroyed.”
“So that’s it? You wanted me to destroy a palace to bother the Emperor?”
Maul tilted his head to the side. “It’s not a complete loss for you, Ezra,” Maul said. “There are some stormtroopers that will likely be killed in the blasts. And, maybe, some civilians.”
Ezra felt sick. Behind him, the shields opened again, and a rush of cool air ruffled Ezra’s hair. “I left my home to learn from you,” Ezra said. “And all you’ve done is make me kill.”
“I never made you kill,” Maul said, rolling his eyes. “Every life you took, you took on your own accord. It’s cowardice to blame me for your choices.”
“Yeah, well, you want to know what my next choice is?” Ezra asked, gripping his lightsaber tighter. “I’m going to kill you.”
Maul smirked. “The student wishes to destroy the teacher. How very Sith of you.”
Ezra saw red; with a wordless cry he swung his lightsaber with as much power as he could muster, but Maul batted the attack away with his own like it was nothing. Ezra swung and stabbed, trying desperately to push his advantage, but Maul was unfazed, each block as effortless and precise as the last.
Eventually they broke apart, and Ezra noted with some glee that even if Maul’s lightsaber form hadn’t suffered at all, Maul was as winded as he was.
“You’ve improved,” Maul said, out of breath. “If your old master had been trained to use his anger, as I’ve trained you, he might still be able to see.”
“I can’t believe I trusted you,” Ezra said. “Either at Malachor, or since then!” And then, Ezra reached out, and grasped Maul’s throat with the Force. Memories flooded his mind: his parents being taken away, his life alone on the streets, and then Kanan—first him refusing to teach Ezra, then trying to pawn Ezra off to another Jedi, then rejecting Ezra totally—and Ezra used his memories to open himself up to greater strength.
But Maul just laughed. He pushed toward Ezra, and Ezra went flying backward into one of the hard support beams next to where the red shields would likely be snapping into place at any moment.
“The first lesson of training an apprentice is to never teach them anything that can hurt the master. But if you continue to learn from me, you will learn my secrets in time. Don’t you understand?” Maul asked, smug. “There is so much more I can teach you—your anger gives you strength.”
Suddenly, his voice as clear as if he were next to Ezra, Ezra heard Kanan. It’s never been your anger that makes you strong, Ezra. It’s your home, and your family. Ezra stumbled backwards, as if pushed, and suddenly a blast shook the corridor. Alarm klaxons sounded, and in front of Ezra, one of the red shields snapped across the hall, separating him from Maul. Ezra looked behind himself, stunned, and found that the rest of the corridor was open: whatever Maul’s bomb had damaged must have activated a special safety protocol locking the actual reactor shaft from the rest of the palace.
They stood for a moment, staring at each other through the red shield. It felt like Ezra had been dunked in ice water: for the first time in weeks his mind was clear.
“Aren’t you wondering?” Maul asked. “Why here?” But Maul didn't wait for a reply. “This is where my life ended—or rather, it’s where my life began. I fought two Jedi in this room: just me versus a master and an apprentice. I failed my master, but in so failing, also created my own life.” Maul suddenly focused on Ezra. “That’s what I want for you, Ezra. For you to create your own path, as I have.”
“What path?” Ezra asked, glimpses of the last weeks swimming at the edges of his vision. “The dark side? The Sith?”
“Not Sith, but not Jedi either. Just us, a master and an apprentice, of our own design.”
“I’m not your apprentice,” Ezra warned. Maul laughed.
“Why? Because you’d rather be Kanan Jarrus’ little padawan?” Maul sneered.
“No,” Ezra snapped, then took a deep breath. “I mean, maybe. All I know is that this,” he said, and though he gestured to the palace around him, he knew he meant Maul, “isn’t my home.”
“Home,” Maul said, crinkling his nose in disgust. “Do you truly believe you can go back to them? Kanan and Hera and the Ghost?”
Ezra didn’t reply, just lowered his lightsaber in silence.
“You aren’t stupid, Ezra,” Maul said, patronizing. “You know you can’t return.”
“I might have to work for it, but they’ll eventually let me come back,” Ezra said. “That’s what family means.”
“Oh, Ezra,” Maul said quietly.
Another blast shook the corridor, and Ezra thought idly it might have been one of the charges he set. When Maul spoke, his voice was genuine, and in the Force, Ezra felt what seemed like true regret. “I don’t mean you won’t be able to go back to them. I mean you’ve changed too much to ever return.”
An explosion in the hangar behind them made the building shudder. The shield flickered for a brief instant, too quickly for Maul to move through, though he drew and ignited his lightsaber.
“Goodbye, Maul,” Ezra said, and turned and walked down the hallway away from the reactor room.
Maul’s screams and oaths followed him all the way to the hangar. Half of the room was buried under rubble—the bombs Maul had planted must have been remarkably powerful—but Ezra barely noticed. There were only a handful of stormtroopers around, and they were too focused on pulling survivors from the wreckage to see Ezra take one of the nearest starships.
Ezra made it beyond Naboo’s atmosphere without any trouble. In front of him, Ezra looked out at the Naboo system: all those billions and billions of sentient beings, and all but one of them ignorant of him floating alone above their heads.
You’ve changed too much to go home, Maul’s voice whispered to Ezra. He shivered. “I might as well try,” Ezra said aloud, and the vast expanse of space was silent and dark in response.