Private Dark Encounters

[Darth Virelia]

"Step into the Dark."

Tags - Eira Seren



The ruin was not quiet.
It never was.

Stone did not speak, yet it remembered. Every fracture in the vaulted walls, every scar cut into basalt by saber or bombardment, carried a murmur too low for mortals to hear but too sharp for her to ignore. Malachor had a voice, and it was made of bone dust, forgotten screams, and the brittle remains of a thousand broken wills. The Dark Side seeped into her lungs with each breath, metallic and sweet, and the air clung like a lover's tongue along her skin beneath the armor.

Darth Virelia walked slowly, deliberately, armored steps pressing echoes into the cracked obsidian. Cloak trailing, she moved as though the planet itself was hers to command, as though each ancient ruin had been carved and arranged solely to receive her. It was not arrogance—it was inevitability. The Force bent here. It remembered hunger. And she was hunger incarnate.

Above her, shattered spires leaned like broken teeth. Once, this had been a fortress, perhaps a temple, perhaps merely another monument to the futility of men who thought power could be kept within stone. She did not care for what it had been. What mattered was what remained—what had survived centuries of silence, wars, scavengers, and time itself. A shadow deeper than shadow. A wound cut into the planet, left to fester.

Her fingers traced a sigil carved into the wall, one too worn to recognize, yet her mind filled in the missing lines with perfect certainty. Sith. Not the petty, preening kings of the modern age who hid behind politics and ceremony. Older, sharper, crueler. This place was not a cradle of philosophy—it was a crucible.

The air thickened. The ruin groaned as if aware of her intrusion, or perhaps of her claim. She tilted her head, violet neon eyes narrowing, their unnatural glow casting thin streaks against the walls. Somewhere ahead, deeper in the labyrinth of fractured stone and collapsed arches, the presence grew denser—like molten metal pressing against her skull. The artifact.

She smiled. Slow. Predatory.

Others would have sent pawns. Mercenaries, droids, acolytes to bleed before the door. But pawns could not hear the whisper beneath the ruin, the quiet thread tugging her closer. Only she could follow it. Only she could take it, mold it, break it, devour it.

The silence broke under her voice, low and edged with silk and iron.

"Malachor," she whispered, and the walls seemed to shudder with recognition. "I have come to take what was left behind."

 

[Eira Seren]

Like a beacon lighthouse, an ancient artifact called to the Sith. A woman forged in the crucible of an academy, one who saw past the struggle for power and rose above it. Not through personal bloodshed but through the use of others. Her strength was not in fighting but in manipulation, alchemy, and science. While Eira did know how to use the lightsaber clipped to her side, it was a rare sight to see her use it.

Malachor, an ichor in the Galaxy, lived and breathed the darkness she inhabited. An abode in the stars that gently cradled her. It was on this world that she had started to grow and learn more. She had joined The Dark Court in an effort to gain more power, and it had led to following in the steps of one Darth Virelia. Though she would never call her a master, she did know her as a Lord.

As she followed in the shadow of the Lord, she did not mask or hide her presence. There was no point to that, and she approached openly but without hostility. Stepping through the dim light with confidence, she was not afraid of Virelia, as evidenced by her demeanor.

Meeting the masked visage of Virelia, her amber eyes met the visor as she walked with her.

"We can get this together, Lord."

Gold sparkled at her neck and ears, and she carried herself with the smugness a true Sith was capable of.

Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Step into the Dark."

Tags - Eira Seren



Virelia turned at the sound of her voice, the ruined hall swallowing the echoes of their steps until only the hush of the Dark Side remained between them. Violet light shimmered from behind her visor as though the ruin itself had lent her its glow. She let silence hang a moment, deliberate, as though weighing whether this young Sith was worthy of her acknowledgment. When she spoke, her voice was velvet drawn across sharpened steel.

"Together," she murmured, tasting the word as though it were foreign. The tilt of her head was predatory, her smile unseen but felt. "You flatter yourself, child. Power is not divided. It is consumed. Claimed. One does not share the storm—one becomes it, and leaves nothing behind but ash."

Her gauntleted hand brushed the girl's chin with a feigned gentleness, a touch that carried more claim than kindness. "Yet…" she allowed the syllable to linger, licentious and knowing, "you are bold enough to walk unmasked in my shadow. Bold enough to look into the abyss and imagine yourself unbroken. That arrogance is promising."

She circled, slow, deliberate, the faint scent of ozone trailing her as her presence pressed close. "Do you know what it means to follow me? It is not camaraderie, nor alliance. It is transformation. I will unmake the illusions you still cling to, strip you of the brittle lies you call strength, and from that ruin… forge something inevitable."

Her words sank like hooks, corrupting and seductive all at once. The ruin seemed to lean closer to hear her.

"You say we can get this together." Virelia's chuckle was low, dangerous, almost intimate. "No, my dear. I will take it. And if you are clever, if you are willing to surrender everything, you may yet be permitted to bask in the fire I ignite."