Darth Mortyra
Mortyra arrived alone. The long black fabric of her dress shifted softly around her legs as she ascended the final steps toward the entrance. Gold thread ran throughout the material, catching the estate lighting whenever she moved. Accompanying the dress, thin chains of gold draped from her waist and hips, disappearing into folds of dark fabric before reemerging lower along her thighs. Sections of the dress exposed pale skin at the shoulders and along her left leg.
Nearly every slender finger of hers glimmered with a golden ring with set gems. Matching bracelets climbed partway up her forearms in overlapping bands. Several necklaces rested against her collarbone and chest, layered in intricate designs that resembled old iconography once viewed closely enough.
Her hair had been partially pinned upward, the rest fell darkly down her back in loose waves. Golden chains draped through it from ornate pins shaped like dragon heads. Smaller chains hung from them in delicate arcs and framed the pointed shape of her ears.
The servant who answered the door hesitated immediately. Not because he recognized her. Mortyra still had no desire to be widely recognized. It was something about her presence that unsettled him before a word had even been spoken.
His eyes flicked briefly toward the jewelry, the dark fabric, the gold woven through the dress, before lifting again with more care.
“Yes?” he asked.
Mortyra said nothing at first. One slender hand disappeared into the folds of her sleeve before producing a small card between two fingers. Matte black. Minimal. Expensive.
The servant accepted it cautiously, eyes lowering toward the authorization code displayed across its surface. The moment he saw the attached name,
Lysander von Ascania
, his posture changed almost at once.“Of course. My apologies.” His tone had become noticeably more careful.
Another servant was summoned from deeper within the estate. A younger woman dressed in dark formal attire accented with muted red trim. The first servant handed the card back with both hands rather than one.
Mortyra reclaimed the card without comment. The second servant bowed her head slightly before motioning inward.
“This way.”
The halls beyond were immense. Dark polished floors reflected the overhead lighting like still water. Art lined sections of the walls between massive support pillars. Ancient masks. Framed star charts. Relics suspended behind transparisteel displays. The air smelled faintly of expensive incense layered over older things beneath it. Dust. Aged paper. Treated leather. Oil from antique mechanisms still maintained with care.
The servant eventually stopped before a pair of enormous doors etched with subtle metallic script along their edges. She parted the doors into the chamber. Cold air rolled out first.
The archive stretched across multiple levels beneath dim amber lighting, towering shelves rising upward in concentric layers connected by narrow walkways and suspended platforms. Ancient datacylinders rested beside physical books and scroll cases alike, many protected behind energy-sealed compartments. Soft mechanical humming filled the background beneath the quieter sounds of ventilation systems and turning archive mechanisms somewhere deeper inside.
The servant remained near the entrance. Mortyra had already moved farther inside before the woman could ask whether assistance was required. One pale hand drifted outward as she walked between the shelves.
