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During Bo-Katan’s weakest moments, she lets herself think of her sister. Satine was so smart, so stubborn and so damn idealistic. She sometimes thinks that it is good Maul killed her—that Satine did not have to see what the Empire did to her people. What they did to Bo-Katan’s people. She is unable to forget the blood in the soil, the glass and scorched sand, the losses too numerous to be named. She had been Mand’alor, and it was, in the end, her failing. She sees it in Axe and Koska’s eyes every single day—her responsibility.
Bo-Katan remembers what it was like to wield the Darksaber, the weight and power of it in her hands. What it was like to use the blade that had once gutted her sister, that held the death of nearly all of its previous owners, how sweet its siren song was.
But, most of all, she remembers the pain, the humiliation of losing it, and she knows that she would do nearly anything to get it back. That she will have it back, and she will save what is left of Mandalore, what is left of her people, or she will die trying.