As Lord Bane stood among the dead tombs of the ancient Sith, I looked over modern Star Wars and felt something missing. I saw the ruins of greatness as proof of what is possible. The galaxy is bigger now—more planets, more eras, more characters—but it feels duller, safer, smaller in spirit. Bane understood that emptiness. The multiplication of form betrayed by the fainting of essence. In his time there were more Sith warriors than ever before, but the powerful beings who called themselves Darth were gone. Sith alchemists who bent the Force to their will and forced reality to change around them. Warriors who slayed thousands and imbued their weapons with the Force. Sith Lords who ruled empires and commanded immense armies. All these powerful beings were gone. The Force itself had abandoned their tombs, leaving no presence, no proof of their once-held power—only dead rock. There was nothing buried there anymore. How is this possible? How could that happen?

Bane was the last survivor of a fallen tradition, a man who would destroy the Sith to save them. He was a reformer—the creator of the Rule of Two. He was forged by the failure of both the jedi and the Sith to understand the true nature of the Force. He looked upon excess, infighting, the eroded knowledge of his age and grasped a brutal truth: he had to save what was left and start anew.

I remember what I felt when I saw The Phantom Menace for the first time. Not because it was perfect, and not because everyone loved it, but because it felt like a door opening. Star Wars returned after years of silence, not as a repetition of what came before, but as an expansion of what the galaxy could be. Modern technology allowed the galaxy to breathe. They build worlds which felt populated and alive. Lived in and ancient. I felt the power Star Wars can have. That movie realized an idea long held by the Expanded Universe writers and fans of the original films: that there is something greater here than anyone thought. Something larger than any of us. Star Wars unfolded, and it felt vast in a way the Original Trilogy and EU only hinted at. The expansion was not a dilution. Everything felt substantial, and every piece felt natural in its place—not just a setpiece. As it should be there. As it was always there. I want that feeling back, as Bane wanted the power of the ancient Sith back.

There is a tension at the heart of the modern galaxy. It is larger than ever, but its desire to encompass everything, and its fear of missing something, have left it paralyzed. Unwilling to ask what was forgotten, what was abandoned, what was feared, and what was deliberately denied. By the time of Lord Bane, the knowledge of the Sith had eroded, and nobody truly understood the Force anymore. The same happened to us. Weakened by endless infighting and division we forgot the whole. We forgot what Star Wars is at its core, and in doing so lost the ability to carry the saga forward in a way that feels true to its spirit.

Bane was in the same situation and he knew what to do. Sometimes what is newer is not an improvement. At times, one must face what came before—and gather the remnants of fallen greatness. To save the worthy and purge the rest. This is the only way something can be reborn: by shedding what became a burden so it can fly again.

Star Wars does not need a new or returned Luke Skywalker. It already has one. Star Wars needs a new Lord Bane.