Private Dark Shores Once More

[Vytal Noctura]

MALACHOR V

Light. Dark. Good. Evil. Living. Dead. They were all constructs. Devices formed by sheer necessity to make sense of an irrational world. To keep track of where you stood in relation to everything around you as it changed every second of every day so long as your essence remained. They were a framework not so easily put aside even by those that sought to do so -- how do you reform the world that you saw before you into another shape when all your senses and thoughts said it was lunacy to even try.

It helped when you were introduced to the irrational at an early age. Before a young soul became too comfortable or familiar with their surroundings. When change was desired at any cost -- no, when costs were hardly factored into the equation. It helped when you were surrounded and brought up by a people that didn't abide the same understanding as the rest of the galaxy; one that embraced the Beyond as being as commonplace as a tree or stream of fish. On a world full of monsters and the monstrous: Dathomir. That had only been the beginning, of course. Yes, even a young would-be Nightsister could find herself in the jaws of death. Not, as most might assume, in her trials, but in a foolish pursuit for something more.

It wasn't until later in life when that experience came to matter. Such encounters left their mark, but didn't instill a destiny made manifest in a day. Vytal Noctura ventured into the stars and there she found the Confederacy of Independent Systems on Ryloth. A world with a mystic community of their own, in fact. Evidently there were clans of Nightsisters among the stars driven then centuries ago. Quite the shock to a woman of Dathomir, but hardly unpleasant given her circumstances. A world where victory and death would help her grow more than sheer desperation to survive among space-faring races. One that would lead to her one day becoming Nightmother to witches of Ryloth, the Mandragora, or the Solanaceae.

Later still, Nightmother Noctura would then set out on travels that took her deep into the Netherworld. She only briefly returned when the threat to those known to her was so great; a catastrophe on Naboo involving a mystical artifact run amok. Things had not been settled well, but they had been settled. Enough for people to pick up the pieces; and so the Nightmother vanished once more to complete her task elsewhere. There were greater threats that lurked in the deep, dark places of the Nether. Threats such as the one that threatened to tear the galaxy asunder on Naboo, and caused the internal collapse of the Confederacy.

Perhaps Vytal could not destroy every such threat, but she could buy the galaxy a good, long while before the first might surface; and hopefully only one calamity at a time at that.

It was one such a dark and dreary day amidst the mists of the Nether that Vytal felt the tremors from above. Something had gone horribly, inexplicably wrong. It didn't feel like a denizen of the Nether had torn free, but the threat was no less severe. The spirits said as much as they too churn under the rippling effects from the living world.

Black lips pressed together, the tattooed, pale Witch rose to her feet. How much time had passed, she wondered, since she'd last been among the living? There had been times she'd checked in on the Castle and its occupants, but only from afar. It would be too much for her to simply show up now and again disturbing the flow of their lives only to vanish once more. That's what she told herself, anyway. That made her travels no less lonely. Nor did it make her victories feel any more substantial. The spirits kept her company, but they were what they were. They did not think or feel or understanding in the way mortals did.

With a wave of her hand, a wreath of green flame formed a portal back to the material realm. Her emerald eyes narrowed at the broken scene beyond, curious where it would lead -- not quite to where she'd expected by far, but something must have drawn it there. Dressed in crimson, the pale woman of Dathomir stepped through and onto Malachor V. Lightning cracked above and she could feel just how thin the veil between worlds was where she stood.

Traveling by magic would not be difficult, but Vytal felt something had brought her here. Before she sought to step to another world, she set off in the direction of life or a base on the world so near regions held by the Sith Order. First she would understand where she was and then... then she would decide what followed.

Sabine Delacroix​

 

[Sabine Delacroix]

The descent of Sabine shuttle was silent, deliberate a reflection of her nature. The sleek, obsidian vessel carved through the thin, turbulent skies of Malachor V like a blade, unmarked and bearing no symbols of allegiance or identity. Its presence alone was declaration enough a remnant of a forgotten age come to walk among ghosts. The plateau where it landed jutted from the ashen desolation below, scarred by millennia of war and suffering. It was a place for ruins, for echoes of the fallen. A fitting ground for one who had outlasted empires.

The ramp hissed open, mist coiling as the poisoned air of Malachor bled into the shuttle’s controlled environment. She stepped into it without hesitation, her every movement measured, unhurried. Her black robes hung close, framing her tall, lean form The hood concealed much of her face, but not the glint of long, white hair falling like a silken banner against the storm-lit sky. Beneath the shadow of her cowl, amber eyes burned low and steady, not with rage—but with endurance. Survival. Purpose.

The Force here reeked of rot and collapse, a stagnant pool churning beneath the surface, steeped in death, betrayal, and the arrogance of long-dead civilizations. Sabine took it in. The wound of Malachor was old, but not healed. It never would be. She had known such wounds herself confined for centuries by Valkorian, tormented but never broken. His Empire had crumbled, as all do. And Sabine remained.

Malachor sang a familiar song.

Her senses swept outward, sensing the remnants of the Mass Shadow Generator's devastation, the weight of Jedi and Sith alike burned into the bedrock. This was a world where the past bled into the present, and where the veil between life and death hung thin. It amplified the tremors of the Force, the ripples in the galactic current that had called her here.

Her servants mere shadows, less than whispers had brought news of fractured hyperlanes, of systems cut off, of order collapsing in on itself. But Sabine had felt it long before they spoke. Something deeper stirred beneath the surface of the galaxy. A shift not of empires, but of the Force itself. And she would feel the current with her own hands.

Her boots touched the cracked stone of the plateau, and the world seemed to hush. Lightning rippled across the sky, silhouetting the jagged spires of stone and shattered war machines, their carcasses rusting beneath centuries of ash and bone. Amber eyes scanned the horizon, not for threats, but for answers. The disturbance was not rooted here, but reflected, magnified through the scars of this world. A tremor a pulling tide gathered strength beneath the galaxy's surface.

Something stirs.

Her lips curled, faintly less a smile, more an acknowledgment. She was not here to halt the galaxy’s descent into chaos. She was here to understand it. To see where the cracks in the foundation would lead. And, perhaps, to shape them. Without word, without ceremony, Sabine pressed deeper into Malachor's hollowed heart. Her presence was anathema to to Malachor, as if she trespassed on hallowed ground. She cared little, let the dead rage she was here for answers.

Vytal Noctura

 

[Vytal Noctura]

The Pale woman dressed in dark crimson stood on the precipice. Sharp talons curled upward as a small ball of green flame boiled, weightless in the air. Black and green mist had burst into being and was kept fed by the flame; it took a form of its own overhead. Thus was where the Nightsister's gaze was fixed.

What her green eyes beheld had stolen her breath at the start. It resembled the broken, twisted landscape of the Netherworld -- a place where physical law and sense mattered not in the least. One place could be just as connected to another one moment, and yet another the next. What need did a spiritual realm have with fixed points in space? And yet, Vytal found herself staring at a metaphysical map of the galaxy with similar hallmarks. Not nearly as replete, but the divisions and stitching was all there.

How had something like this gotten by them all? She was under no delusion to be the only one that sought to protect the Material from threats others refused to believe existed. Had none of them seen this coming? Then could the threat had emerged from within the Material itself, or at least been so old none of them had come upon it?

There was still time. Time enough to prevent the dissolution of the bonds that held everything together. But first they would need to locate the source... No, first she should find out if someone already had.

Her fingers rolled shut and the flame was extinguished. That this world sought to extinguish her life so easily did not distract from the sense of another that drew near. There was even a time she would have waited for them to come to her; to climb the mountainside or scale the broken paths. There wasn't time for that, however, and this one felt familiar.

Vytal stepped off the ledge and plummeted toward the ground below. A small whirlwind of green flared into being as she approached her doom; its current swept about her body, embracing her, and arrested her descent. Her boot stepped forward as if she'd nearly stepped down from a curb.

"I see you, Sister," she called out. "Tis a strange realm we find ourselves."

Sabine Delacroix​

 

[Sabine Delacroix]

Sabine watched as the familiar flare of green flame spiraled downward, softening the descent of a figure she had known across centuries. Her stance remained poised, but the sharpness in her amber gaze softened beneath the shadow of her hood. When Vytal's boots touched the cracked stone, Sabine stepped forward, the whisper of her robes barely audible beneath the weight of Malachor's oppressive silence.


"Vytal," she greeted, her tone smooth but touched with rare warmth, the slightest nod given in respect. "It seems the force has seen fit to bring us together again." She let her gaze drift briefly to the remnants of the green mist still curling around her friend's form, a familiar signature of the Nightsister's craft. The dark energy of this place recoiled against it, but Sabine could feel how they intertwined all the same.

"A strange realm, yes," she murmured, her voice quieter now as her eyes turned to the horizon, "but one we have both walked before in different forms."
Her gaze returned to Vytal, a flicker of something more personal behind the amber glow. "When my servants whispered of the disturbances hyperlanes fractured, paths collapsing I knew it would draw the attention of those who still see beneath the surface." Her lips curved faintly, a shadow of a smile. "And I am rarely wrong."

Sabine approached with measured steps until she stood a few paces away, the charged air between them thick with shared history. "I sought the source, yet find you already charting the fracture lines," she said, gesturing lightly to the space where the green flame's vision had danced. "Tell me, my friend… what have you seen?"

Vytal Noctura

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Sabine was far from young, but there'd been a moment the woman's gaze had been severe before it softened. At first, Vytal hadn't been sure who it was, but now that they could see one another clearly it was certain. She thought to ask just how long she'd been gone, but that was a trivial detail that could be handled later.

A pale hand drifted through the air off to the side as Sabine spoke of Malachor V as familiar if in other forms. The witch certainly could feel a great deal familiar in the tempest of broken energy that churned on the planet. It was not a fate she would wish on any world. It would take a great many of their kind some time to correct this maelstrom. It truly was easier to destroy than to create.

Their gazes fastened to one another once more as Sabine spoke of disturbances. Hyperlanes fractured? Given what Vytal had seen so far that would fit, but she could only speculate having only just begun to learn the extent of the growing threat. Vytal shorted with a curl to her black lips at Sabine's claim of being right far more often than not. Well, she wouldn't refute the statement.

Her fingers unfurled and the tuft of flame returned to draw the broken map of nearby space. Vytal stepped forward, mindful of Sabine's body language, but not about to begin skittish believing things had radically changed in her absence. Perhaps that was prideful, but that wouldn't be unheard of. "The effect it has can be seen, but I have only just returned. We must find its source. Something of this magnitude will not happen once and stop, and if it continues the galaxy itself may perish." It had appeared certain regions of space had been moved far from where they'd once been. The gravitational fallout and hyperspace chart impacts would be extraordinary.

Vytal thought to ask-- to press on what Sabine had heard, but she studied the other woman for a moment. "Have you been well?" The galaxy was in danger, time was short, but it couldn't be that short could it?

Sabine Delacroix​

 

[Sabine Delacroix]

Sabine watched as the green flame bloomed once more between them, casting light over the ruined stone. Her hooded head tilted slightly, the faintest hint of approval flickering in her amber gaze as Vytal conjured the fractured map anew. Even here, in the heart of decay, her dear friend remained composed, methodical a rare and precious constant in a galaxy that seemed determined to devour itself.

She listened in silence, weighing Vytal’s words against her own instincts, against the thousand murmured reports that had passed through the lips of her thralls. The threat was vast. That much was certain. But Sabine had not lived through the shattering of empires, the collapse of Orders, and the rise of pretenders only to cower before the latest unraveling.

When Vytal’s question broke the silence, Sabine allowed a rare smile small, wry, and fleeting.

“Well enough,, I have spent time on my own pursuits over the years. Exploring, learning and even devoting some of it to your own teachings as well"

She let the words linger a moment, then stepped closer, her hand gesturing with an elegant sweep at the flame-map that floated between them.

“You are right. This is not a wound that will heal itself. Nor a single blow struck and done. It festers. Spreads. Whatever the cause we must locate and swiftly deal with it. While I am not overly fond of this galaxy it is the only one we possess, unless something has changed that I am unaware of."

Vytal Noctura

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Her own teachings? Unapologetically 'dark,' but that didn't mean reckless and short-sighted? There were other aspects, but Vytal hoped Sabine had kept to being herself no matter how people tried to mold her to their own purposes. Especially when it came to the Sith. The Daughter of Dathomir had a poor opinion of those that claimed the heritage of Korriban. More to the point, of those that believed the wisdom and wealth of her homeworld belonged to them simply because they knew how to conjure lightning and swing around a plasma blade. So very few of them ever came anywhere close to understanding the Nightsisters' ways because of narrow-mindedness. Not Sabine; but Sith could be poor influences.

The chief hallmark of someone that didn't understand the so-called 'Dark' side of the Force was 'corruption.' No Nightsister showed such symptoms of perverting the natural order (which some found ironic considering their use of the dead). It was reassuring to see Sabine so healthy and hale.

"The Nether connects to many realms," Vytal intoned. Then she clarified, "Tis none better or worse than ours, merely different. I would stray from the realm of the so-called gods, if they would stop shaking the pillars of creation." There was nothing more aggravating then a being that thought itself immortal, omnipotent, and omniscient. To think she'd nearly worshipped one of those things as the Fanged God once.

"Would you care for a companion down this dark path?" Sabine had not gone to any length to explain where she'd been, what she'd seen, whether she found Vytal's presence good or ill. Though, she had called her friend earlier. It would not be amiss to have a friend once more. "It appears to lead far from here." Malachor was certainly a character in the ebb and flow of energies, but it did not seem the heart of what troubled all before their eyes. Perhaps Sabine's servants had unearthed something of interest.

Sabine Delacroix​

 

[Sabine Delacroix]

Sabine's expression shifted subtly at Vytal's words—no outward flourish, no dramatic show—just a softening at the corners of her mouth and a glint of something genuine behind her amber eyes. She held the silence for a moment longer than most would dare, letting it settle, letting Vytal's offer linger in the stillness like incense smoke curling through stone corridors.


"I would," she said simply, the words low but certain. "It has been too long since I walked beside someone who speaks of gods and realms with clarity instead of fanaticism."

She turned her gaze toward the horizon, where the jagged wastes of Malachor stretched like the scars of a dying beast.

"This world," she continued, "remembers suffering the way others remember seasons. Every stone groans with the memory of ruin. It is no wonder the veil is thin here too much death, too little purpose."

Her gaze sharpened, tracking something far beyond what the eye could see. "But it is not the origin. Only an echo. Whatever stirs the stars from their moorings… it lies elsewhere. Malachor is a mirror, not the hand behind the blow."

She turned fully now, facing Vytal as the wind caught the edge of her cloak, stirring it with an almost reverent stillness.

"Galidraan," she said, quiet but certain. "A shrine buried beneath ice and secrecy. My thralls uncovered it what little remains. The etchings carved into its walls speak not of Jedi or Sith, not of balance or opposition, but of will. As though someone once sought to rewrite the order of stars with intent alone. And it sits at the confluence of all the hyperlanes."

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal observed Sabine's subtle changes as the moment drew out. Still a little playfulness left was there? The Nightsister was patient; it was Sabine's decision to make. At last, she deigned to share her thoughts aloud and the pale woman nodded. A small, short laugh accompanied Sabine's relief. Aye, the two of them could discuss such lofty matters without couching them in parable or metaphor. Most wouldn't understand, but they could. They'd lived it. Seen it with their own eyes. Perhaps even suffered for their efforts. Knowledge like power so often had a price.

She watched and waited as it was Sabine's turn to peer between the thin veneer of what was to see what is. Vytal nodded slightly in understanding. Malachor certainly reflected the pains of the struggle that gripped the galaxy; it physically represented the consequences of all the strife. Healing or recovery took much effort and there wasn't always enough after such great harm was visited on the galaxy.

"Truly?" Confluence of hyperlanes? "Twould explain much if it can pull at the galaxy at such a level. Tis a tool that has been neglected too long, or manipulated by someone to these ends is a lingering question. Are others already gathering?" If Sabine already had a solid lead, she likely also knew if the galactic community was taking action. Despite their lack of interest in mystic matters, it would be impossible for them not to notice or care about entire solar systems being... misplaced. Answers would be demanded. "And are they trustworthy?" Vytal had been out of affairs for some time. Just because certain factions might assemble did not mean they would do so for the best outcome.

Sabine Delacroix​

 

[Sabine Delacroix]

Sabine's expression held steady, the corners of her mouth curved ever so slightly not quite a smile, not quite grim. It was the look of someone long accustomed to seeing the same patterns repeat across centuries, and knowing that the shape of a thing mattered far more than the names it wore.

"Truly," she confirmed, voice low and composed. "I have not explored it as of yet, unfortunately it has not been found for long."

She paced a short half-turn, her boots silent against the stone as the weight of her words hung between them.

"Some have noticed. Even without the eyes to see, they feel the unease. Hyperlanes that vanish mid-jump. Fleets arriving days too early—or weeks too late. Outposts that should have been within reach now drift beyond the margins of any route known."

Then she paused, amber gaze locking with Vytal's.

"They are gathering," she said. "Not in unity, but in panic. The Galactic Alliance seems largely uninterested. The Sith seem to be, shockingly taking the threat seriously.. Even working with the Naboo Republic. The republic is a new thing if you are unaware."

She folded her arms neatly, a motion laced with elegant restraint.

"Trustworthy?" A faint scoff passed her lips. "No. But useful, perhaps. That is often enough."

Sabine tilted her head slightly, the familiar spark of calculation behind her eyes.

"But you and I we see the roots. And if this power is being manipulated... then we may be already late."

She glanced to Vytal once more, something warmer behind the formality now.

"The stars shift. But I would prefer not intend to chase them alone."

TAG: Vytal Noctura

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal watched Sabine and listened closely to what she had to say. What she had to say was even amusing at the start. The living had managed to notice what was happening... but only because it might as well have walked up and slapped them in their collective faces. Sounded about right when it came to something mystical in nature. She'd spent so much time in her days with the Confederacy trying to educate the masses in magick and how it was not something to be feared. Yes, even the Force shouldn't be feared, though its adherents had some peculiar ideas surrounding it. Educating the masses was an endless task that rarely seemed to budge the needle; and yet they'd tried anyway.

A dark brow arched at Sabine saying the Alliance was not involved, but the Sith were. "They rebuilt after the devastation. Good. Have they amassed Jedi and Witches to their cause? Do not tell me those with power are only from the Sith." Sabine she could trust, but Sith as a whole? Not a chance. They exploited whomever whenever wherever they wished for whatever purpose or because they could. There were individuals that could be considered 'good,' but as a group they were dangerous. No wonder they were not unified.

Perhaps they'd moved too quickly to form bonds. Well, the galaxy was in peril so moving quickly was actually laudable. Typically their governments could scarcely be convinced their was a problem until a blaster was shoved in their faces. There had been exceptions, of course.

A nod accompanied Sabine's doubt of trust, but belief certain parties might prove useful. Things had not changed much in Vytal's absence.

"Late, perhaps, but not too late." Events had proceeded faster than they'd had time to respond, but it hadn't fallen apart just yet. Time still to stabilize matters. Time to preserve the living. If it were intentionally manipulated though as Sabine suggested than the time remaining to them may be short indeed.

"Twould be desired to be beside you once more, Sabine. If we are to chase after this turbulent realm then to remain sane it would do to speak of its madness with another that perceives it." The Nightsister's black lips curled upward at the corners. "I have little but myself to offer you at the onset." She hoped it would be enough, but little in the Nether much mattered up here on the surface.

Sabine Delacroix​

 

[Sabine Delacroix]

Sabine inclined her head slightly at Vytal's words, a quiet flicker of approval beneath her otherwise impassive expression. The mention of cooperation or the lack thereof deserved clarity, and she offered it with the same poised cadence she always carried, as though each word had been weighed before spoken.

"They are moving," she admitted. "The Alliance investigates, but it does so cautiously methodically. Too many eyes, too many factions within its shell pulling in different directions. The Naboo Republic has begun its own inquiry as well, especially after recent displacements near their borders. And there are others, smaller powers, Force sects and outliers, all stirring with uneasy awareness."

Her tone sharpened ever so slightly.

"Some are even cooperating. Not out of unity, but necessity. Sith and Jedi standing in the same chamber without killing one another, if only because the room is on fire and neither wants to burn." A pause, faintly amused. "It won't last, of course. But it's a start."

She turned to Vytal more fully, and now there was no weight of politics or positioning only the frankness shared between peers who had seen too much to bother with pretense.

"As for what you offer?" Sabine's lips curved into a faint, genuine smile. "Do not insult us both by calling it 'little.' You bring your mind, your eyes, your will and the knowledge that when you speak, I need not second-guess your meaning. That is no small thing, Vytal."

A step forward, smooth and unhurried. The dying winds of Malachor stirred the edge of her cloak.

"It is no longer enough to stand apart and watch the galaxy burn. It is time for action and this time, we pull the thread together."

TAG: Vytal Noctura

 

[Vytal Noctura]

​

Slow. Diligent. Uneasy. Vytal would sigh, but such things were entirely too natural. The majority of the galaxy, despite their efforts, persisted in believing the world was simple and entirely within their control (or ability to manage, at least). They were all horribly wrong. Even the Jedi and Sith only begrudgingly acknowledged such things. No doubt considered them 'strange, but manageable' with their vaulted powers. Just another country to pacify one way or another.

And the mystics? The Witches? Covens. Where were they in all this? Vytal could not help but note they hadn't even been conjured in passing in Sabine's rendition of events. That too was not surprising. They often kept to themselves, cloistered on their homeworlds wherever that happened to be. Dathomir was not the only planet to host their kind; something Vytal had learned when she rocketed out into the galaxy and found a blessed refuge on Ryloth so long ago. Yet it was this very people that should have been at the heart of the galaxy's response -- they would understand the soul of this issue, surely. Such as Vytal's confidence in her Sisters. At least some Witches would be more inclined to save the galaxy rather than seek to turn events to their gain like most other power-users.

"Never does," Vytal replied to Sabine's doubt the peace would endure. Sith had to conquer and be on top of everything and everyone; and the Jedi couldn't stand to see someone claim dominion over others. Their philosophies were too dissimilar for the peace to ever last. All it would take was one person in the right place at the right time to ignite another prolonged conflict.

"We cannot put out every fire," those of the galaxy needed to work out their own problems, "but it would not be amiss for us to help. We have no need to lay claim to whatever great power is behind these events. No machinations that demand hording every scrap of knowledge or the means to secure it." Vytal nodded, while she regarded her partner's face. She spoke of them together, but time had passed so the pale woman monitored to make sure she was not too off base in such estimations. Perhaps Sabine did have something in the works that would benefit from acquisitions; though Vytal hoped not. The galaxy needed apolitical sorts disinterested in mounting the summit to plant a flag. It needed someone responsible enough to do what needed done for its sake alone. And, prayerfully, they would not be alone.

"I have missed our time together, Sabine. Events have brought us together one more; we will reap twice as much reward." Save the galaxy, find a friend.

Sabine Delacroix​