Limestone, 33

Metal footsteps ring through corridors smelling of cold steel and charged air, each clang vibrating like the march of something half machine, and half superhuman. A red glow pulses in the dark, warm as a furnace yet distant like a dying star, while a calm presence moves with the silence of deep space itself. The burn of Anakin's fall is witnessed from afar, Vader's gravity tears apart his adversaries, Bane moves like volcanic rock and Maul like a blade slicing air. Foundation pages whisper dusty prophesy as star ships rumble, moving toward violet skies, silver forests, and alien life. Imperial futures rise and collapse in a realm that feels hauntingly familiar.