Tyrant Queen of Darkness

"In the cover of darkness."
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The ruins breathed.
Soot and shadow curled together beneath the broken skyline, coiling through the shattered ribs of the once-proud relay tower. From the outside, it looked like another corpse of the Outer Rim — Desevro, blackened durasteel, silent comm arrays twisted skyward like broken fingers. But within, deep beneath the ruin, the air throbbed with life. With her life.
Darth Virelia waited.
The light was low — not dark enough to hide her, not bright enough to comfort. Faint violet arcs ran across the obsidian plates of her armor, crawling like veins under skin. Each pulse came slower than a heartbeat, yet heavier, like the breath of something buried alive. A thin mist of alchemical vapor drifted from the vents behind her throne, perfumed with copper and incense. The scent was deliberate — narcotic, slow, invasive. Those who entered this place would taste her before they ever saw her.
She could hear them coming. The whisper of boots on stone. Discipline, order, purpose. TIC operatives — the best the Confederation had to offer. How quaint, she thought. They had tracked the false transmission she had left hanging in the void: a ping to a missing war asset, a ghost from the Brosi campaign. They believed they were the hunters.
She smiled.
Through the mist, her silhouette rippled — tall, predatory, languid. Every line of her posture calculated to draw the eye, to unmake restraint. The Force coiled around her like silk, heavy with promise and poison. Her voice, when it came, was almost a purr, slipping into the ruins long before they crossed the threshold.
"Come closer."
The command was soft, barely audible. Yet the sound crawled beneath armor, into the nerves. She didn't need to raise her weapon. Her power was suffocating, sensual — it reached through the dark like perfume through smoke.
Beneath the cracked floor, her traps waited: hidden coils of gas, web mines, and the silent hum of restraining fields. The chamber itself was the snare — every wall carved with sigils that drank sound and light alike.
They would come for a ghost. They would find a goddess.
And when the light struck her face at last, when violet eyes burned through the fog, they would know —
— they hadn't been sent here. They had been summoned.
