Echoes in the Ash: The Vanishing Rim

Haunted by brutal visions and tormented by loss, smuggler captain Tessa Myrren descends into the Outer Rim’s unraveling nightmare to find her missing lover. With only the grim loyalty of Mandalorian scout Serra Krynn, Tessa faces merciless cultists, ghostly ruins, and the darkness festering not just in the galaxy, but within herself.

Tessa Myrren dragged herself over a slick of blood and coolant, pistol clutched in a trembling hand, as the stench of burned flesh clawed at her throat. The outpost was silent, save for the crackle of fire and the wet rasp of dying breath echoing from the darkness. Somewhere behind, Serra Krynn’s boots crunched glass and bone.

“Don’t stop now,”

Serra spat, voice raw.

“Whoever did this is still here.”

A shadow moved behind a collapsed bulkhead, Tessa’s heart hammered, every nerve screaming. A memory flashed: her lover’s scream, cut short by static and flame. Pain twisted inside her, the Force pushing images of carnage and ruin until she nearly retched. She wiped blood from her mouth, crawling forward, teeth bared. The only way out was through.

“I’m not leaving anyone behind,”

she hissed, voice hoarse with fear and rage. Serra’s reply was a hollow laugh that barely masked her panic. The darkness pressed in, thick as oil, as Tessa pulled herself upright and stalked deeper into the ruined station, where death, and whatever had caused it, waited.

The Old Republic collapses at the fringes: outposts and Mandalorian enclaves vanish, leaving only scorched remnants and terrified refugees. Sith cults and mercenary death squads move in the shadows, fueling dread as law and hope dissolve. The Force, twisted by atrocity and secrets, haunts those desperate enough to face the growing darkness.

The galaxy is coming apart at the seams. Core Worlds remain gilded and insulated, but the Outer Rim has been abandoned to chaos. Republic outposts and Mandalorian strongholds vanish overnight, their distress signals fading into static, their ruins marked by scorch and slaughter. Syndicates and warlords carve up what’s left, preying on the exodus of the desperate; the old codes of the underworld are giving way to violence and betrayal. Even the most hardened smugglers and bounty hunters whisper of something darker stalking the void.

Ancient tombs and derelict starships litter lawless space, drawing scavengers and cultists seeking power. Technology is patched and unreliable; only the strong and the ruthless survive. The Jedi are absent, their warnings forgotten. The Force itself is warped here, its visions sharp with pain and loss, driving the sensitive toward obsession or madness. Day-to-day life is bartered in blood and secrets. Trust is rare, hope rarer. Each new atrocity leaves the Rim colder, its survivors more desperate, and the shadows ever deeper.