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“Stand aside! I will kill her! She is mine!” shrieked Voldemort. Wisteria’s hand had closed on Cedric’s wrist; one tombstone stood between her and Voldemort, but Cedric was too heavy to carry, and the Cup was out of reach —
Voldemort’s red eyes flamed in the darkness. Wisteria saw his mouth curl into a smile and saw him raise his wand. “Accio!” Wisteria yelled, pointing her wand at the Triwizard Cup. It flew into the air and soared toward her. Wisteria caught it by the handle.
— She heard Voldemort’s scream of fury at the same moment that he felt the jerk behind her navel that meant the Portkey had worked — it was speeding her away in a whirl of wind and colour, and Cedric along with her. . .. They were going back.
J.K. Rowling, Wisteria Potter, and the Goblet of Fire
…
Wisteria Potter stumbled through the thick jungle of Teth, her heart heavy and her mind reeling from the events that had just transpired. One moment, she had been clutching the Triwizard Cup with Cedric Diggory, triumphantly declaring their shared victory and the next, they were transported to a dark graveyard. Cedric was dead before she could process what had happened, struck down by the Killing Curse. Now, as she was alone, no cup and no Cedric. She was sure she had grabbed both though it seemed the Triwizard Cup had transported her to yet another strange and unfamiliar place. The dense foliage and humid air of the jungle closed in around her, making it difficult to breathe.
Wisteria laid still for another minute catching her breath on the mossy ground and looked around, trying to get her bearings. The jungle was eerily silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant call of an unknown creature. The dim light filtered through the thick canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the ground. She was alone, truly alone, in a way she had never been since she started Hogwarts. Her wand felt heavy in her hand, a small comfort in this vast and alien world.
She had known she wasn’t on earth as nowhere magical and mundane held purple trees like these, the abundance of mesas and the strange thing she saw take flight looked like it came out of Dudley’s school drawings, hideous. As she moved through the underbrush, Wisteria came across a sight that made her heartbeat. Scattered among the trees were bodies—men in white and blue armour, their lifeless forms sprawled on the ground. She approached cautiously, wand at the ready, but it was clear that they were all dead. Their armour, though unfamiliar, was like something out of a sci-fi film.
Wisteria’s stomach churned at the sight. She had seen death before, every night when she closed her eyes, flashes of green and a woman's scream. Just last year she watched herself nearly die. This was different. Was this what it was like in the first Wizarding War, finding people scattered across the streets?
She didn’t recognise their uniforms, their weapons. They were riddled with holes the scent of burnt flesh familiar. She could feel Quirrell’s flesh melt beneath her fingers, disintegrating into ash. The way he screamed, the ash that had clung to her fingernails. She was getting distracted.
She had never seen purple trees before, and the landscapes were dominated by towering cliffs, deep gorges, and dense jungles from all the walking she had been doing. She came across the odd blue armoured people, but all were dead and numerous robot parts were scattered around. It seemed like something out of a money robots vs human.
Wisteria was used to Potter Luck TM, but this was a new low. The magic felt different her freer, her spells were even more powerful than usual. However, what cemented the idea of being on a different planet was the weird fauna. Mega-insects possessed long bodies that were supported by a pair of two gauzy wings which stretched to a wingspan of three meters. Or a standing turtle thing with brightly coloured skin, sharp spines that ran along much of its body, and webbing between its fingers and toes. She had stayed still as those crossed, they looked hand to fight, and she didn’t have the energy to deal with those things and the breakdown she was about to have.
The planet’s surface is largely inhospitable, if this is what the jungle was like with narrow paths winding through steep mountain ranges that are often cloaked in mist and fog. Wisteria had been walking for hours at this point trying to find a body of water as she didn’t want to have to resort to only magical means.
The planet's atmosphere is thick and humid, contributing to the lush, almost oppressive vegetation. Massive trees with tangled roots and vines were common, making the jungle regions difficult to navigate. She had tripped more times than she would admit.
The sun was beginning to set when she found a strong stream to make camp by, all the time left outside was reaping benefits now. She didn’t have much but her shrunken chest courtesy of her grandfather. He had given it to her before the second task it was a cute charm bracelet, out of sight but beautiful, nevertheless. She hadn’t gotten the chance to look around it yet but now was as good as any.
The chest was beautiful a mix of Mahogany and Holly embossed with her initials and the Potter house crest on one side and the Black house crest on the other. It felt like she belonged to the family for once not just the last member of a dead house.
The compartments were cool as she had to enter the chest itself. It had multiple extension charms. There were even rooms and bathrooms, it was like a mini estate. A whole library room that Hermione would love was already filled with books, a few Wisteria had recognised from her vault. How Sirius was able to get them was a question for when she got back.
The rooms themselves were cosy and the kitchen was her favourite part. Growing up with the Dursleys meant she was accustomed to housework, but cooking was her favourite part. The few odd times she burnt food were not-so-happy memories. When she did cook, she would spend hours making numerous meals, the Dursleys loved the selection. Cooking and gardening were the one time she wasn’t so heavily supervised; she was even allowed to have soft music in the background as an encouragement to not burn the food.
The kitchen in the chest didn’t disappoint enveloped in deep, rich shades of dark blue, creating an intimate and moody atmosphere. The walls, cabinets, and even the island were painted in a near-navy blue, with a subtle satin finish that absorbs most of the light, adding to the sense of enclosure. The countertops are a contrasting white marble with delicate black veining, adding an element of sophistication. It was more than she ever wanted. Sirius must have spent a fortune on the chest even if it was only renovating it.
The room was lit solely by candlelight, casting a warm, flickering glow that danced across the surfaces housed in dark metal holders that added to the space's rustic charm, creating deep shadows. Truly a beautiful addition. Sirius had made her a home she could always carry. A simple charm that hung on a gold bracelet. She wished she could sleep in the bed she saw but she didn’t know the dangers of this planet and what would happen if the chest was destroyed with her in it.
Her long hair tied back in a messy braid as using her magic, she gathered leaves and branches from the surrounding trees, her wand movements precise and graceful. The leaves wove themselves together, forming a makeshift roof, while the branches assembled into sturdy walls. Within moments, a temporary shelter stood nestled among the trees, blending seamlessly with the jungle around it. It wasn’t much, but it would keep her safe from the elements until morning. Transfiguration was a wonderful and most practical branch of magic in such situations.
She settled inside, her eyes growing heavy as she listened to the sounds of the night. She was keeping her cool well, but she knew her night would be filled with tears. From a young age, Wisteria had known not to show weakness with others around her as they fed on it and used it to push her down.
Tears were reserved for her pillow in the dark of the night.
The first light of dawn filtered through the canopy, rousing her from a dreamless sleep.
She could feel how dry her eyes were and see the tear marks on her transfigured pillow.
Stretching, she stepped out of her shelter and scanned her surroundings. Her stomach rumbled, and she eyed the trees laden with strange, colourful fruits. With a wave of her wand, she cast a spell to test their edibility. A soft glow surrounded the fruit, confirming their safety with her digestive needs. Plucking a few from the branches, she bit into one, savouring the sweet, juicy flesh. There were no words to describe the taste it was truly other-worldly, pun intended.
Undoing magic was as fun as the original spell, watching the sturdy wall transform back into leaves and sticks.
As she ventured further into the jungle she stumbled upon a grim sight. Scattered across the forest floor were the remains of battle—charred droids and lifeless bodies, their armour cracked and scorched. Wisteria’s heart sank as she surveyed the scene. The bodies were cold, so it had been a few days, but she had to be vigilant.
She was on an unknown planet where war had broken out, who knows which side had the moral high ground, for all, she knew both were worse than the other.
Moving cautiously through the carnage. She knelt beside one of the fallen soldiers, the white and blue of his armour stained with mud and blood. With a gentle hand, she removed his helmet, revealing the face of a young man beneath—his expression frozen in a mix of resignation and fear.
She hesitated momentarily, reaching out with her magic looking for the shadow of his soul. It was something again unique to her, her family from research were descendants of three powerful brothers who encountered death and had gifts bestowed upon them. Soul magic was a branch of black magic called death magic, so it made sense in that aspect, but Wisteria was always able to see people's souls, it was how she knew the Dursleys were rotten to the core.
The soldier's echo was clean and pure, he was a good person before his death and young having lived less than ten years, yet he looked like a full adult. Space science was the possible answer. She then moved to another soldier a few feet away. The same face greeted her, albeit with different scars and a slightly different haircut.
The realization struck after three more bodies bearing the same face these men were clones, each one identical in appearance, yet they all had different souls. Someone had created an army of clones.
She carefully laid the helmet back on the soldier’s chest, her mind racing with questions. Why had they been sent here? What battle had they fought that led to such devastation? And why could she sense their souls so vividly, as if each one were calling out to her even in death? The pain, did they have any say in going into battle, were they forced?
Wisteria knew she couldn’t leave the bodies to rot in the jungle. She began to gather broken branches and fallen logs, her hands trembling but determined. The jungle was full of life, yet death had touched it brutally.
She piled the wood.
She then turned to the fallen soldiers, gently moving their bodies onto the pyre one by one. She didn’t know their names or their stories, but she felt a kinship with them all the same.
Wisteria stepped back; her work complete. Her voice was steady. “Incendio,” she whispered, and flames leapt from her hands, catching the dry wood, and igniting the pyre. The fire burned bright and hot, consuming the bodies, and sending a column of smoke into the sky. She had left them men in their amour, she could have stripped them and taken what was needed but she had more respect for the dead than the living at this point of her life.
Most of the living had only brought her pain and disappointment. She relied on magic to keep her healthy and safe, she trusted her magic more than people most days. It would nudge at her and wrap her in its warm embrace. She could feel the treads of magic see it when she focused but from what she gathered that was not normal. The magic she carried, and the ambient magic were different, they worked together well but there was a fundamental difference. Here she seemed bigger than herself, she could feel the presence of others like a gentle breeze, some were cold, genial and others burning, pressing on her mind.
Wisteria watched the flames, she was alone in a strange world, with no idea how to get back home. But as she stood there, watching the fire burn, she felt a small measure of peace.
The jungle seemed to grow quieter as if the very air around her had stilled in respect for the fallen. Wand out she pushed her intent upon magic to call them home to a place where they could be happy, she could feel the remainder of their souls, the part that cries out to her left in happiness. If she looked closely, she would have seen a faint blur of blue rise to the sky.
The jungle around her was silent once more, save for the crackling of the flames. Wisteria sat down, her back against a tree, and let the tears come. She cried for Cedric, for the soldiers, for herself. She cried for all the things she had lost and for the uncertain future that lay ahead. She had already cried that night but now she had let herself break and promised this would be the last until she was back home on earth.
And as the fire burned down to embers, Wisteria Potter began to plan her next move. She might be alone in this strange world, but she was still a fighter. She would find a way to survive, and she would find a way home.
She felt a deep ache in her bones, the aftermath of exhaustion and grief. The pyre had burned down to ash, leaving only a smoldering reminder of the lives lost.
Another day spent wandering the jungle, the early morning light filtering through the canopy above. Wisteria took a deep breath and stood, stretching her sore muscles. She needed to move, to find some semblance of civilization or at least a place to gather her thoughts and formulate a plan.
The dense jungle seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions, the thick canopy above blocking much of the sky. Wisteria paused for a moment, her eyes scanning the area for a way to gain some height. Her gaze fell on a towering tree nearby, its broad branches reaching far above the jungle floor. If she could just get a better view of her surroundings, she might find a path out of this labyrinth of foliage.
Her hands gripped the rough bark, her boots finding purchase on the knotted trunk. As she climbed higher, the sounds of the jungle softened, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the occasional cry of a distant creature. The air grew thinner, and fresher, as she broke through the lower canopy, her body moving with practised ease. Finally, she reached a sturdy branch near the top of the tree. Pulling herself up, she stood carefully, balancing as she took in the view. The jungle stretched out like a vast purple sea below her, but it was the horizon that caught her attention. Rising above the treetops in the distance was a cliff, its rocky face stark against the sky. Perched on top of it was a structure—a building of some sort, its edges sharp and unmistakably man-made.
Wisteria squinted, trying to make out the details from afar yet it was useless she didn’t have any binoculars, and she knew no spell to enhance her already bad eyesight.
The structure might hold answers—perhaps to the battle that had taken place here, or to why she had been drawn to this planet in the first place.
Back on the ground, Wisteria set off toward the distant cliff, her path now clear having a point me spell was really useful. The jungle no longer felt as overwhelming with a destination in mind.
The journey through the jungle was gruelling, the thick vegetation slowing Wisteria's progress as the days blurred together. She moved with purpose, but the jungle fought her every step of the way—dense underbrush tangled around her legs, and unseen creatures rustled in the shadows. Yet, despite this, she pressed on.
As she moved, Wisteria couldn’t help but marvel at the strange and wondrous flora and fauna of this new world. Giant, brightly coloured flowers towered above her, and small, luminescent insects flitted about, casting a soft glow. She heard the distant calls of animals she couldn’t identify, adding to the surreal atmosphere. It was beautiful in its way, but it also served as a constant reminder of how far from home she truly was.
After what felt like hours of trekking through the dense underbrush, Wisteria stumbled upon a path likely trodden by the soldiers she had found. It was wide and as she came; she saw a large grey metal thing that looked straight out of a comic.
The ground was fanged, and even more bodies could be seen.
On the morning of the third day, she finally emerged from the trees at the base of the cliff. The sight before her was a chilling reminder. The ground was littered with the bodies of fallen clones, their armour pocked with holes. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of scorched earth and burnt machinery.
Wisteria's gaze swept over the scene, taking in the massive metal machines—AT-TE walkers, their legs crumpled beneath their hulking bodies, and shattered starfighters, their wings twisted and torn. The remnants of war were everywhere, a graveyard of men and machines alike. It was clear that a desperate fight had taken place here.
As she moved carefully among the wreckage, Wisteria's attention was drawn to a series of cables dangling from the edge of the cliff above. The thick, weathered lines swayed gently in the breeze; their ends frayed where they had once been secured. These were ascension cables, the kind used by soldiers to climb steep surfaces. Wisteria could almost picture the clones scaling the cliff in.
The scattered bodies and the grim scene spoke of an overwhelming force that had cut them down before most could reach their goal. She reached out and touched one of the cables, its rough texture sending a shiver down her spine. The building on the cliff still loomed above, now more foreboding than ever. Whatever was up there had been important enough for these clones to risk their lives for.
She began to assess the cliff face, searching for the best way to climb. The ascension cables were still intact, and though they were battered by time and battle, they were her best shot at reaching the top.
She realized that scaling it with the cables alone might be too slow and arduous. Unlike the clones, she was lacking in muscle mass. The ascent was steep and treacherous, and the remains of the battle made the climb even more perilous. An alternative solution began to form in her mind—a broom. She had seen a few in one of the rooms in her chest estate. Wisteria tested it briefly, finding it surprisingly stable.
Kicking off the ground and soaring towards the cliff face. The initial lift was smooth, but as she reached the steep incline, she had to manoeuvre carefully, balancing her broom and herself. The surface of the cliff was uneven, with protruding rocks and jagged edges that made flying a challenge.
The hours passed as she painstakingly worked her way up, her concentration unwavering despite the fatigue setting in. The broom was not the most magically potent like her nimbus or even her firebolt. The strong winds also didn’t help much.
After what felt like an eternity, Wisteria finally reached the top of the cliff. The view from the summit was both breathtaking and sobering. The jungle spread out below her like a lush, lavender carpet.
The building was an ancient monastery, its stone walls weathered and cracked from years of exposure to the elements. Despite its dilapidated state, it stood as a silent sentinel overlooking the land. The front of the monastery was littered with bodies—both clones and droids—lying in a chaotic array, evidence of a fierce confrontation. The silence that surrounded the place was eerie, amplifying the sense of desolation. It seemed like they had left very quickly after retrieving whatever they came to find.
Wisteria dismounted her broom and approached cautiously, her eyes scanning for any signs of movement. She stepped over the fallen, her heart pounding with anticipation.
With a final glance at the still forms around her, Wisteria pushed open the heavy, creaking door of the monastery and stepped inside, the cool air of the interior offering a brief respite from the harsh daylight. The silence within was almost absolute, broken only by the distant echoes of her footsteps. As she ventured further, she braced herself for whatever lay ahead.
The interior of the monastery was dimly lit, with shafts of sunlight streaming through broken windows high above. Dust motes danced in the air, and the scent of decay hung heavy. Wisteria’s footsteps echoed as she walked through the vast, empty halls, her wand held high to cast a soft light. The architecture was unlike anything she had seen before, a blend of ancient and otherworldly designs. She explored the monastery, finding empty rooms and long-forgotten chambers. It was clear that no one had lived here for an exceptionally long time. Wisteria’s hopes of finding someone who could help her began to fade, but she pressed on, determined to search every corner of the place. In one of the larger chambers, she found a mural painted on the wall. It depicted a star chart but not one like she had seemed as was written in a language that felt old.
As she stood before the mural, Wisteria heard a faint noise from deeper within the monastery. She tensed her wand at the ready and followed the sound. It led her to a small, hidden chamber, tucked away behind a concealed door. Inside, she found what looked like a makeshift camp. There were remnants of a fire, a few scattered supplies, and a bedroll from leaves.
Before she could fully take in her surroundings, a voice spoke from the shadows. “owhay areyay ouyay?” (Who are you?)
Wisteria spun around. A figure stepped forward, a man another soldier, but this one was different. His armour was polished to a gleaming, contrasting sharply with the dirt and blood-streaked armour of the fallen with no blue painting.
Though the gun, aimed at her face was not welcomed Wisteria knew from all the shows that Dudley watched that a gun was faster than words.
However, her expelliarmus was such a used spell that she could do it wordless and wandless if needed. It happened quickly the gun was ripped out of his hand before the trigger could be pulled and launched to the corner of the room out of his reach. It looked like he was about to jump her before she rushed to introduce herself.
“My name is Wisteria Potter,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I do not mean any harm. I’m lost and trying to find my way home.”
The young man’s eyes softened slightly at her words. “areyay ouyay ayay orcefay useryay oryay ayay iviliancay?” (Are you a force user or a civilian?) He spoke. Though from the way he tensed the answer to the question would either have her attacked or not. From the little body language, she could read Wisteria it seemed that answering iviliancay was the best choice, and it resulted in a pleasant reaction as she could no longer feel the fear and anger from him. However, since when could she feel the emotions of the others? Wisteria had noticed the magic seemed looser, less structured than back home but empathy was not on the list of side effects.
Wisteria nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. “Do you know where we are? What is this place?”
The soldier's helmet obscured his face, but his posture was non-threatening. He spoke long sentences that made it hard for her to keep up with him. Frustration bubbled up within her—communication was crucial, and they were at an impasse. Though she noted it was some variation of old Latin, her Latin seemed to not work as well.
Thinking quickly, Wisteria murmured, “Lingua Comprehendere,” and flicked her wand. A soft, golden light enveloped her, then faded. She looked back at the soldier, hoping her spell had worked.
“—not going to hurt you,” he was saying, his voice now clear to her ears. “Please, lower your stick. Though there is not much a stick can do compared to a blaster.”
Wisteria hesitated, then slowly lowered her wand. The soldier visibly relaxed and lowered his hands as well. He approached her cautiously, his gaze scanning their surroundings as if expecting danger at any moment.
“Thank you,” he said, his tone sincere. “I'm not sure how you did that. My designation is CT-8675, but you can call me whatever you like, Miss.”
Wisteria frowned. “You don't have a name?”
He shook his head. “Clones don’t have names.”
“That's awful,” Wisteria said softly. She thought for a moment, then smiled. “How about I call you Crus, because of your armour? It's Shiny compared to the others.”
The trooper tilted his head, considering. “Crus. I like that. Thank you.”
With introductions out of the way, Crus went to check to corridors for any loose droids. “Let's get inside. It's not safe out here.”
Wisteria nodded and followed him further into the ancient building carrying some of the supplies. Inside, the air was cool and damp, carrying the scent of old stone and moss. The interior was dimly lit by shafts of light filtering through cracks in the walls and ceiling. It was clear that the monastery had been abandoned for some time before the battle.
Crus led her to a central chamber, where he set down his blaster and began to remove his helmet.
“Where are you from?” Crus asked curiosity piqued.
“A place called Earth,” Wisteria explained though she could see that Crus did not fully understand. She winced as she shifted, a sharp pain in her side reminding her of her injuries.
Crus noticed and immediately became concerned. “You're hurt. Let me help.”
Wisteria hesitated but then nodded, knowing she needed the help. She had sustained cuts and bruises during the chaotic transport and the subsequent journey through the jungle. Crus retrieved a medkit from his supplies and began to clean her wounds with practised efficiency.
While he worked, Wisteria used her wand to tidy up the area, removing debris and repairing minor damage to the structure. She also conjured a small fire to provide warmth and light, casting a comforting glow in the dim chamber.
Crus watched her in awe. “I've never seen anything like that. Is it magic?”
Wisteria only smiled.
When he finished treating her wounds, Crus sat back, clearly impressed by the cleanliness and order she had brought to the room. “Thank you. This place feels safer now.”
Wisteria nodded. “Thank you for helping me. I don't know what I would have done without you.”
Crus looked thoughtful. “It’s my purpose to help citizens of the republic.” He turned towards Wisteria. “Are you a citizen of the republic?”
Deciding to be truthful “I’m not part of any galactic government my planet is independent.”
Wisteria and Crus spent the night in the relative safety of the monastery. As dawn broke, the jungle outside came alive with the sounds of chirping insects and calling birds. Wisteria woke to find Crus already awake, his helmet back on, scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger.
“We need to get down to the battlefield,” Crus said, his voice muffled but resolute. “I need to see if any of my brothers are still alive.”
Crus had told her it had been 4 days since the battle but due to a quick retreat, they were not able to all escape as the planet was recaptured by the separatists and their droid army. Crus had hidden always in one was the back rooms deep enough to hide from the life scanners though he wasn’t sure if anyone else survived.
Crus gestured to a coiled rope at his side. “These are ascension cables. They’re a standard issue for us. We can use them to rappel down the cliff wall.”
Wisteria examined the cable, a sturdy-looking device with a grappling hook and a mechanical winch. It looked complicated, but Crus seemed confident. She trusted his experience. Much more secure compared to the ones she found at the bottom of the cliff.
“Alright,” she said, determination in her voice. “Let’s do it.”
They made their way to the edge of the monastery, where the cliff dropped steeply into the jungle below. Crus secured the cables to a sturdy beam, then handed one to Wisteria. He showed her how to attach it to her harness and how to control the descent with the winch.
“Ready?” he asked, and Wisteria nodded, gripping the cable tightly.
They stepped off the edge together, and Wisteria’s stomach lurched as they began to descend the cliff face. The jungle sprawled out below them; a sea of purple broken by the occasional clearing. As they descended, Crus began to speak, his voice carrying over the mechanical whir of the winch.
“The battle here was fierce,” he began. “The Separatists had fortified this monastery, and we were ordered to take it. The 501st Legion, under General Skywalker, led the assault. It was my first deployment with them.”
Wisteria listened intently, focusing on his words to keep her mind off the dizzying height. “What happened?”
“We were met with heavy resistance,” Crus continued. “Droid forces everywhere, and they had the high ground. Many of my brothers fell in the first wave. We fought our way up, but it was a bloodbath. The General and the new commander were relentless, though. They led us through, and we managed to take the monastery.”
Wisteria’s heart ached at the thought of the fallen soldiers. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
Crus’s voice was steady, though tinged with sadness. “It’s part of the job. We’re soldiers, bred for this. But it does not make the loss any easier.”
As they neared the bottom of the cliff, the sounds of the jungle grew louder. Wisteria could see the battlefield now, a scarred clearing littered with the remnants of the battle. Debris from destroyed droids and fallen trees were scattered everywhere, and the air was thick with the smell of Fanged metal and earth.
They landed softly on the jungle floor, detaching the cables. Crus immediately began to search the area, looking for any signs of life. Wisteria followed her wand at the ready, eyes scanning the underbrush for any threats. There was no point hiding her magic from Crus if it was illegal she would be getting letters from the ministry.
They found the first body close to where they had landed. It was another clone, his armour marked with the blue accents of the 501st. Crus knelt beside him, checking for any signs of life, but it was clear he was gone.
“CT-5673,” Crus murmured, closing the fallen soldier’s eyes. “Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Rest well, brother.”
They moved through the battlefield, finding more fallen clones as they went. Wisteria’s heart grew heavier with each discovery, but she refused to give in to despair. She used her magic to lift debris and clear paths, aiding Crus in his search.
As they approached the edge of the clearing, Crus suddenly froze, his helmet tilted as if listening. Wisteria followed his gaze and saw a small group of clones huddled together; their armour battered but their spirits unbroken.
“Vode!” Crus called out, and the clones looked up, relief flooding their faces.
“75” one of them shouted, rushing forward. “We thought we were the only ones left!”
Crus clasped the clone’s arm, a rare smile breaking through his usual stoicism. “I had a little help. Thanks to her,” he said, gesturing to Wisteria.