A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY • 15 BBY • IMPERIAL ERA

The Republic is dead.

In its place rises the Galactic Empire—vast, orderly, and unchallenged. The Senate still exists, but its voice is ceremonial now, its power drained into the iron grip of the Emperor.

Across the Core Worlds, Imperial banners hang from spires of Coruscant. In the Outer Rim, compliance is thinner, and fear does most of the governing. The Jedi are gone. Their temples are ruins or museums. Their name survives only as rumor, cautionary tale, or heresy.

Stormtroopers enforce peace. Inquisitors hunt what remains of the old order. Governors compete in loyalty, each trying to prove they are more useful than the last.

But beneath the surface of “order,” something is shifting.

Smugglers move more than spice. Cells form in forgotten systems. Old Republic veterans whisper about freedom they no longer believe in, but still remember.

The galaxy is quiet.

Too quiet.

And in that silence, rebellion begins to think.