Private Darkness Rises

[Jinn Lorso]

Seren Gwyn​

Lorso's expression shifted in something that was not quite pride, not quite awe but close to both. The creatures' movement had changed from that of predators to pilgrims, drawn forward not by instinct but by recognition. Their steps echoed in syncopation with the rhythm that pulsed through the sigils, the red and silver light weaving together like the veins of a single living thing.

As Seren moved, he followed, not behind, but beside, his stride deliberate, each step sending a quiet tremor through the Force that harmonized with hers. The walls of the corridor seemed to inhale with them; black stone breathed, then released faint streams of pale mist, the scent of dust and ozone mingling with the energy that thickened the air.

"Balance." he echoed, voice calm but edged with something heavier, older. "A word so often mistaken for weakness. Yet here, it feels like gravity itself. Everything bends toward it."

 

[Seren Gwyn]

She felt the shift before she saw it—the way the Force leaned toward them now, not as hostility but as acknowledgment. Power recognizing power.

Her gaze tracked the creatures as they moved in that reverent rhythm, the once-feral shapes now pulled in by the harmony she and Jinn had set loose. A slow, measured breath slipped past her lips.

"Gravity…" she repeated, voice quiet, but threaded through with certainty. "No—inevitability."

The shadows curled tighter around her ankles as she walked, coiling with a serpentine grace. Where her presence touched the stone, sigils flickered—silver answering crimson in a pulse like a heartbeat beneath Malachor's skin.

"We were never meant to chase power," she murmured, eyes fixed forward into the deeper dark. "Power comes to those who claim their place in the order of things."

Her fingers brushed the air beside his hand—not contact, but closeness, a shared current sparking between their paths. The bond thrummed, steady and sure, as if the Dark Side itself approved.

"These creatures do not kneel to dominance," she said softly. "They kneel to certainty. To a bond that does not fracture when tested."

A distant roar cracked through the tunnels—a warning or a summons, she couldn't tell. But her chin lifted, eyes alight.

"Let Malachor watch," Seren continued, voice calm, almost reverent. "Let it remember that balance is not stillness. It is direction."

She turned her face slightly toward him—just enough for the dim light to catch the curve of her mouth, a subtle, dangerous smile.

"And we decide where it flows next."

With that, she stepped further into the sanctum—not fleeing the darkness…but leading it.

Jinn Lorso