Private Dark Encounters

[Darth Virelia]

"Step into the Dark."

Tags - Seren Gwyn



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."

 

[Seren Gwyn]

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 - Seren Gwyn



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."

 

[Seren Gwyn]

When her voice broke the near silence, she could almost tell it startled Virelia. Of course, the other woman didn't give any sign of that weakness. Eira felt it, though. The Lord recalibrated herself and resumed command of her frayed energy. The sorcerer, who was the dark Sith, picked up on more than Virelia imagined.

She allowed her to touch her face and call her child. However, there might have been a hint of anger in her eyes. As much control Virelia had, so did she. Maybe even more, but time would tell.

"I have no mask, Lord."

Only partially true. Her mask was not a physical one but a metaphorical one. She hid her true intentions behind a veneer of culpability. A naivety that could be sensed and that was exactly as Eira wanted it. To mislead people into thinking she was less than she actually was. It made her more powerful than they expected.

She certainly felt the hooks and probes Virelia sent out, but she didn't allow her to see past the surface. From one Sith to another, she did not show her weaknesses.

"What illusions do you think I still cling to, Lord?"

Nothing in her tone betrayed feeling, and there was nothing she'd said that was wrong or even disrespectful.

Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Step into the Dark."

Tags - Seren Gwyn



Virelia did not answer at once. She let the young woman's words coil into the silence, savoring the sharp edge hidden in the veneer of composure. Silence, after all, was its own kind of dominance—forcing the other to lean into it, to fill it, to need it broken. When she moved again, it was a step closer, close enough for her presence to press like heat against Eira's skin, close enough that the ruin's shadow no longer lay between them but wrapped them together.

Her head inclined, just enough for the visor's violet glow to sweep across Eira's features. The sound she made was soft, almost a hum, a sound that could have been amusement—or something far more intimate.

"You wear no mask," she repeated, voice silk-wrapped steel, "and yet you tell me what I already know. Truth spoken too easily is rarely truth at all." Her gauntleted fingertips traced, feather-light, along the edge of Eira's jaw before falling away. The gesture carried both claim and dismissal, as though she had tested the metal of a coin and found it intriguing enough to pocket, but not yet to spend.

"You ask what illusions you cling to." She did not smile, but the warmth in her tone carried the weight of one. "The illusion that you can control what you invite into your orbit. That you can study the storm and remain untouched. That you can walk beside me and still walk as yourself."

She leaned nearer, the faintest tilt of her head suggestive of a whisper, though she did not lower her voice. "But storms do not share their skies. They do not negotiate. They devour. You will learn this—perhaps here, perhaps later—yet you will learn."

Virelia's voice softened into something dangerously tender, licentious in its careful restraint. "You are not wrong to test me. Strength is not found in blind obedience. But know this: every step you take beside me, every secret you try to guard, every deception you think makes you powerful…" Her pause was deliberate, lingering just long enough to turn anticipation into hunger. "…all of it will unravel, thread by thread, until what remains is mine to shape."

She straightened, drawing back just enough to reclaim the space, but her presence still clung to Eira like perfume and ozone.

"You should not fear this. You should crave it."

 

[Seren Gwyn]

"I have no reason to lie to you."

Lifting her eyebrows, there was one work unspoken, and that was yet. She lived a life full of lies and deceit; she didn't expect this relationship to be any different. Their auras met and mingled. Two dark waves were crashing together but not fighting. Not entirely. They walked similar paths, and that allowed this to work.

Feeling the touch of the gloved hand on her cheek did very little to Eira, and she kept her amber eyes glued to the violet-hued helmet. She didn't pull away and stood her ground. Setting her jaw, she listened to the answer given by the other woman and smirked a little.

"Maybe I have already learned something about storms, my lady."

Hearing the threat under the words of Virelia, she almost laughed. Her humor would be clear, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"I think we will continue our journey, lady, and each of us will be changed from this encounter."

Looking at the other woman through the top of her eyes, she lowered her face to have her chin angled downward just slightly. If her presence lingered, Eira also clung to Virelia's.

"I do not fear you, but I don't crave you either. It's your power and knowledge that draw me, and I will follow where you lead."

Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Step into the Dark."

Tags - Seren Gwyn



The girl's defiance clung to her words like perfume—sweet, heady, and masking something far more fragile beneath. Virelia let her speak, let her wear the shape of confidence as if it were armor. She had no need to strike it away. Better to let it harden, to let her believe it real, until the day came when it cracked beneath her own hunger.

A soft sound escaped the Dark Lady's lips, something between amusement and indulgence. She did not answer Eira's bravado directly. To answer would be to validate, and validation was not what she offered. Instead, her gloved hand lingered for a heartbeat longer upon Eira's cheek before sliding away, slow enough to leave the phantom memory of the touch behind. That, too, was corruption: not the act itself, but the absence after.

"Then follow," Virelia breathed, not as command, but as inevitability. She turned, cloak whispering against shattered stone, her stride languid yet absolute. Each step carried her deeper, and the ruin seemed to yield, as if the shadows themselves bent to her passage.

The air thickened. Ozone sharpened into iron, the Dark Side humming with resonance like a string plucked beneath the world. Ahead, the corridor widened into a chamber vast and peculiar.

Black stone ribs arched overhead, half-collapsed, forming a cavernous hall where fragments of ancient machines jutted like bones from the floor. A circle of broken pylons loomed at its center, their runes still faintly alight, bleeding a dim green fire across the dust. The artifact's call was louder here—an undertone felt more in marrow than in ear.

Virelia slowed, taking in the geometry with deliberate silence. Her hand brushed against a pillar, claws rasping sparks from its surface. She turned her head slightly, violet glow casting eerie shadows across her visor.

"Do you feel it?" Her voice was lower now, licentious in its intimacy, as though confiding a secret meant only for Eira's ears. "This chamber is not dead. It waits."

She did not look back, did not grant the younger Sith her eyes. Instead, she moved forward, toward the circle, toward the heartbeat pulsing beneath the stone. Each step was a promise—of power, of transformation, of ruin.

And if Eira thought herself equal, if she thought her hunger unchained?

Let her stew in that illusion a little longer. The ruin would teach her what Virelia had already mastered.

 

[Seren Gwyn]

It was an odd sensation she felt when Virelia removed her fingers from her face. The warmth remained for a few moments, and then the chill returned. Not unexpected as they traversed the cavern. At the almost command to follow, she did precisely that—one step behind and to the side.

It wasn't to Virelia the shadows bent but to Seren. She had focused her knowledge base on controlling shadows. Nobody had yet seen her display any of her power, and she looked forward to that day. When she could bend the shadows to her will and help this group.

Tilting her face to look up as the crumbling bones came into view. What creature was that? Nothing Seren was familiar with, and as it was dead, it didn't actually matter. The feeling of the Force flowing around them was fulfilling in a way that wanted to overpower Seren.

Control, though, she was a fire that was banked and safe. If she were to lose that control, then who knew what might happen. Time would tell, and she felt they would soon learn. Hopefully, nothing bad happened if she lost control of the shadows.

"I do. You're right, it isn't dead."

Virelia's tone wasn't lost on Seren, but she didn't react to it. Instead, she stepped forward and stood next to the other Sith. They were far from equal, and the older woman knew that. It didn't matter to her, though. They might be Sith, but it seemed they could find common ground and work together.

Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Step into the Dark."

Tags - Seren Gwyn



Virelia felt the shift in the air before she saw it—the faint tremor that signaled a presence moving alongside her, rather than behind. Seren had closed the gap. Bold. Or foolish. It didn't matter which; both were fertile soil for corruption.

The chamber's light thickened as they advanced, the green fire bleeding brighter from the runes etched into the stone. Virelia extended one hand, fingers splayed, and the air seemed to thrum in response. The pylons stirred—shifting with the sound of groaning metal, ancient servos awakening after centuries of dormancy. The runes flared, pulsing in rhythm with her breath.

Then it revealed itself.

At the center of the circle, resting within a fractured cradle of obsidian and bone, lay the artifact: a sphere of black glass, its surface crawling with faint, violet lightning beneath. Each pulse of light illuminated the sigils floating within it—Sith runes rearranging themselves like thoughts refusing to settle. It was alive, and in its life was hunger.

Virelia stepped closer, her armor catching the eerie glow. The faint hum that filled the room seemed to fall in line with her heartbeat, the ruin itself adjusting to her cadence. She didn't touch it yet—power was not seized with haste. It was courted. It was seduced.

"Beautiful," she murmured, voice low, reverent, dangerous. "This is what they buried beneath the wars and the myths. The heart of a weapon. A mind that once commanded shadows and storms."

She turned her head slightly toward Seren, the violet glow of her visor glancing off the younger woman's cheek. "You feel it, don't you? How it reaches for you, like a living thing."

For a moment, her tone softened—still licentious, still commanding, but intimate, almost confessional. "Everything buried here has purpose. Everything broken, a memory. You came seeking something." Her hand hovered over the sphere, tendrils of violet energy licking against her palm. "Tell me, Seren—what is it you wish to find in this place?"

Her question hung heavy, threaded through the dark pulse of the chamber. "Knowledge? Strength? Redemption?"

A pause. Then, more quietly: "Or are you searching for the part of yourself you were too afraid to look at until now?"

The artifact's pulse quickened as if eager to hear the answer.

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren's amber eyes glowed softly in the violet haze of the chamber, the light reflecting off her pupils like sparks of fire caught in glass. Her gaze lingered on the sphere, drawn to it despite the whisper of warning that ran along her spine. The artifact pulsed as if alive, each beat echoing against her chest, syncing with the rhythm of her own restrained excitement.


"I feel it," she said, her voice barely above a murmur, husky with fascination and a flicker of desire. "It reaches into me… knows the parts I've hidden, the corners I've been too afraid to enter. I've felt hunger like this before, though never so focused, so insistent."

Her hand twitched almost involuntarily, a step closer to the sphere, yet she kept herself just out of reach. "I came seeking strength. Knowledge. Perhaps answers about the shadows within myself. But…" Her eyes narrowed, amber flames reflecting the violet arcs of energy dancing across the black glass. "Perhaps what I find will want more than I'm willing to give."

The hum of the chamber seemed to thrum with her heartbeat, calling to her, teasing, as if it could read the temptation in her mind. "I don't know if I'm ready to face it—or if it's ready for me. But I cannot turn away. Not now. Not when I've come this far."

Seren's amber gaze flicked to Virelia, and in it lingered both defiance and a shadow of recklessness. "And you. Do you ever feel it? That the things we seek might claim us before we even touch them? That the answers might… seduce us into something we never meant to become?"

Her voice softened, almost a whisper, as her hand lowered slightly. Yet the glow in her eyes remained, tethered to the artifact's pulse, a mirror of her cautious fascination, curiosity, and the dark pull that had brought her here.

Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Step into the Dark."

Tags - Seren Gwyn



Virelia watched her with the stillness of a statue, a kind of silence that did not merely fill the air but consumed it. The young woman's voice trembled with that exquisite tension between awe and fear, and Virelia let it hang there, savoring it. Every word was a small surrender, and Seren did not even realize it.

"You ask if I feel it," Virelia said at last, her tone a quiet blade drawn in velvet. She stepped closer to the artifact, the violet lightning kissing the edges of her armor, the black glass trembling as if in recognition. "Of course I do. It's why I'm still alive."

Her gaze turned toward Seren, unreadable behind the mask. "The moment you stop feeling it — the lure, the hunger, the pull that promises to unmake you — that is when you have become hollow. Power does not corrupt, my dear. It seduces. And the ones who fear seduction are those who never learned how to wield it."

She extended her hand and let her fingers hover just above the sphere. The air crackled, threads of violet energy rising toward her palm like tendrils of smoke. The artifact pulsed harder, and the chamber's hum deepened until it thrummed through the bone.

"You speak of strength, knowledge, answers," she continued softly, her voice now threaded with something intoxicating. "But those are words we hide behind. What you truly seek is permission — to stop pretending, to let the darkness inside you breathe without shame or restraint."

Her hand lowered, finally brushing the surface. The energy flared outward, violet arcs crawling up her arm, reflected in the glossy planes of her armor like living fire. The runes on the floor ignited, spilling their light across both women.

"See how it calls to us?" Virelia murmured, her tone deep, seductive, nearly a whisper. "It doesn't want to be understood. It wants to be joined."

She turned her head slightly toward Seren, voice dipping to a dangerous purr. "You fear being claimed. But tell me—wouldn't it be worse to reach for something this perfect and never let it touch you?"

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren's fingers sank deeper into the coiling light, and the violet arcs responded instantly, twisting and flowing around her hand like liquid fire. The energy pulsed, no longer confined to the artifact itself, reaching outward with a sentient grace. It wrapped around Virelia's masked form as well, curling along the contours of her armor, brushing her like a warning and a caress at once.


Seren's amber eyes flared brighter, reflecting the swirling currents of power. She held her ground, letting the energy wind between them, testing boundaries, bending subtly to her silent command. The artifact had ceased to be just an object...it had become a tide, alive, recognizing her presence and strength.

Virelia's mask hid any hint of emotion, but the violet arcs traced along her form, drawing her into the shared pulse of the power. And yet, despite the seduction and the pull, Seren remained steady, her will threading through the chaos, asserting a claim without words.

A low hum vibrated through the chamber, the runes along the floor igniting with renewed intensity, as if acknowledging the balance struck between them. The air shimmered with violet light, and for a moment, the boundary between wielder and artifact, student and teacher, blurred entirely.

Seren lifted her head slightly, amber eyes meeting the shadowed gaze behind Virelia's mask, the unspoken truth clear: she had taken a fragment of the storm for herself, showing that power could be embraced without surrender, that the darkness could be claimed without being consumed.

The artifact pulsed once more, a deep, resonant thrum, and the chamber seemed to exhale around them. An acknowledgment that something new had begun.

Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Step into the Dark."

Tags - Seren Gwyn



The storm of violet light wound through the air like living silk, and in its radiance, Virelia stood utterly still. She could feel Seren's will moving through it. Not a flailing novice lost to hunger, but a creature who had learned to taste power without choking on it.

Intriguing.

The arcs danced along her armor, kissing the carved lines of her gauntlets and the curve of her pauldrons. Each contact hissed against the alchemical wards woven into Tyrant's Embrace, and the air thickened with ozone and warmth. Virelia drew in a slow breath, savoring it, letting the sensation coil in her chest like smoke.

"You surprise me," she said finally, voice soft, heavy with something that might have been pleasure. The words carried a current of heat—an intimate acknowledgment, not of affection, but of recognition. "Most who touch the storm are swallowed whole. They reach for control and find only ruin. But you…"

Her head tilted slightly, the faint violet gleam of her visor narrowing on Seren. "You bend. You yield. You let it move through you—and in doing so, it bends to you. That is the first secret every master forgets: domination begins with surrender."

She stepped closer until the charged air between them trembled. "Don't mistake me," she added, her tone low and licentious, the verbal equivalent of a fingertip sliding down a blade. "This power will still devour you if you let your focus waver. But for now…" A pause. "You wear it beautifully."

The artifact pulsed once more, a deep note like the heart of the world striking in time with their breaths. Virelia reached toward it again—to seal it. The runes on the floor dimmed slightly, recognizing her command. The light subsided to a slow, rhythmic thrum, as though breathing.

"Take what you can from this place," she murmured, turning her head slightly toward Seren, "You have earned it."

Then, after a beat, softer—almost indulgent:

"Welcome to the Dark Court, Seren."

The glow faded around them, leaving only the scent of ozone and the lingering thrill of shared dominion.

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren lowered her hands slowly, letting the last threads of violet energy settle into the air like smoke drifting from a spent flame. Her amber eyes glimmered with awe and comprehension, the power of the artifact still thrumming faintly through her veins. She breathed in deeply, letting the storm's resonance echo in her chest, a rhythm both alien and intimate.

Her gaze met Virelia's beneath the mask, unflinching yet respectful. "I… I didn't expect to wield it like this," she admitted, voice low but steady. "Not without losing myself, not without…" Her words faltered, caught on the edge of reverence and restraint.

The lingering warmth of the violet arcs seemed to wrap around them both, brushing along her armor and coiling gently around Virelia as if acknowledging the bond forged in the brief crucible of power. Seren's lips curved into a small, measured smile, the kind born from both triumph and humility.

She inclined her head, her voice carrying that quiet strength that had drawn Virelia's attention. "Thank you, Lady."

Her hands folded neatly at her sides, and for a moment, the chamber seemed to exhale with her. The storm had receded, but its mark, the taste of power, the thrill of mastery, remained, humming beneath her skin, a promise she would carry forward.

Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Step into the Dark."

Tags - Seren Gwyn



Virelia's gaze lingered on her for a long, silent moment — the kind of silence that pressed rather than rested. The aftermath of the storm clung to the air, warm and charged, as if the ruin itself had not yet decided whether to release them. She could still feel the pulse of the artifact through her armor, faint and steady, echoing in tandem with Seren's own rhythm. Power, shared for a heartbeat. Rare. Dangerous. Exquisite.

She stepped closer, slow and deliberate, the motion predatory but unhurried. The faint hum of her armor filled the pause before her voice — low, rich, and velvet-edged with amusement.

"Thank me?" Virelia purred, the word tasting decadent in her mouth. "My pleasure, darling."

Her hand rose — ungloved now, bare skin pale beneath the violet haze — and brushed the side of Seren's throat. The contact was light, almost tender, yet beneath it lay a warning: this was acknowledgment, not equality.

"You didn't just wield it," she continued softly, eyes glinting through the mask's faint light. "You courted it. You let it see you, and for a moment, it believed you were worth the risk of intimacy." Her thumb lingered just under Seren's jaw, tracing the faint tremor of her pulse. "That is how true mastery begins — through seduction. Even the Dark Side cannot resist being wanted."

Virelia withdrew her hand, though the warmth of her touch seemed to linger, as if the Force itself refused to let it fade.

"You've done well," she said at last, tone shifting from indulgence to a silken command. "Better than most. Remember this feeling — the balance between surrender and control. It will come for you again, in other forms. In me. In power. In temptation."

She turned from her, cloak whispering against the stone as she began toward the corridor. The artifact's pulse dimmed behind them, sated — for now.

"Now..." Virelia said, glancing back only once, the violet light from her visor cutting like a blade through the dark. "I think we should take a trip to Malachor."