From No where.... Welcome HoMe ...

[Zori Galea]

"Euphoria Vale" — The False Utopia of Zeltros
A Luxurious Prison. A Sith's Masterpiece.​

---

Conceived and Controlled by Zori Galea
Under a web of aliases and silk-veiled lies...

Overview:
On the surface, Euphoria Vale is a luxury enclave nestled in a secluded valley on Zeltros—a paradise of indulgence, wellness, and tranquility.
It promises not only beauty and serenity but transcendence: a retreat for the elite weary of galactic conflict, scandal, and reputation.

Yet beneath the perfume and the peace lies something far darker: a gilded cage, meticulously curated by Zori Galea.
Her experiment is one of control, spiritual corruption, and exquisite predation.​

---

The Setting
​

• Secluded by design: Dense, pheromone-rich flora disrupts tracking, sensors, and intrusions.​
• Luxury homes: Sleek, modern, and deeply personalized with neural interfaces and "emotion-reactive" lighting.​
• The town center: Hosts euphoric spa chambers, nightly masquerade galas, and wellness rituals that blur into cultist rites.​

​

---

Zori’s Plan
Through layered personas, Zori rules Vale with precision:
​

• Mirell Vantos — a charming real estate developer with a generous smile and unknown past​
• Madame Zae — a neuro-spiritual guide who leads “Ascension Sessions” into bliss​
• The Anonymous Benefactor — leaves amulets, tinctures, and Sith-laced tokens in every residence​

All masks. All paths. All Zori.
​

---

The Truth Beneath

In the hidden chamber beneath Vale’s grand spa lies The Table of Becoming.

Here, Zori enacts her most sacred rite: consuming the essence of the “awakened”—those who surrender wholly to Vale’s pleasure. These victims do not die, not in the traditional sense. They are transformed, their Force-bound vitality bound to Zori’s own soul through Sith alchemy.

To the others? They’ve ascended. Moved on. Left the body behind.

But Zori keeps a part of each one. Literally.​

---

The Velvet Crucible
Euphoria Vale’s Inner Circle

A secret cabal within Vale, the Velvet Crucible enforces Zori’s will through seduction, suggestion, and surveillance.
Some serve knowingly, drawn to the beauty and promised power. Others are enchanted, their loyalty sculpted by subtle Sith rites and emotional dissolution.

Their mission is simple: identify the next ripe soul.

Their reward? Status, indulgence, and pieces of Zori’s dark sorcery—eternal beauty, flawless pleasure, and fragments of forbidden power.​

---

"You came here to escape the galaxy. But here, you are mine."
— Zori Galea​

 

[Zori Galea]

"Welcome, my beautiful ones…

Today, you stand not merely at the gates of another luxury enclave, but at the threshold of transcendence.

Euphoria Vale is more than a neighborhood. It is a sanctuary of the senses. A space where indulgence is not sin, but salvation. Healing comes not through restraint, but through full immersion in who you are meant to be.

Our vision was born from a question: What if paradise was real… and permanent?

I am proud to say—through the support of our blessed contributors, our devoted builders, and those who believe in liberation through lifestyle—we have raised that paradise from dream to stone.

Here, the stars are close. Your neighbors are family. And your soul, finally, can breathe.

And this, my darlings, is only the beginning."

(Applause rises. Wine glasses lifted. Zori's smile widens with predatory serenity.)

 

[Zori Galea]

(Her Private Thoughts Behind the Smile)

Behind her eyes, where the Dark Side whispers and shadows coil, Zori is scanning the crowd with a very different agenda.


Her mind sharpens as she notes the ripest offerings.

Resident Profiles:

1. Ralun Veers

• Profession: Retired Senator of Serenno
• Public Reason for Moving: Stress recovery, "stepping away from the game"
• Zori's Assessment: "His guilt is heavy. He dreams of absolution. The perfect vessel to drain—he'll never resist the offer of rebirth."

2. Tavari Kel

• Profession: Holo-influencer, mindfulness guru
• Public Reason: Retreating from the chaos of fame
• Zori's Thought: "So desperate to stay relevant, she'll drink anything I hand her and call it 'alignment.' She'll be one of the first to sing hymns in the Crucible."

3. Vix Marridan

• Profession: Neurosurgeon, recently discredited
• Public Reason: "Seeking peace after a scandal"
• Zori's Thought: "He still believes in science. How amusing. I will teach him sorcery disguised as neuroscience and watch him become my evangelist."

4. Eliune Frosk

• Profession: Widowed artist
• Public Reason: To find inspiration after personal tragedy
• Zori's Thought: "She speaks to the dead in dreams already. When I open the veil fully, she'll follow me willingly into the abyss."

5. Jeno Toron

• Profession: Private security, ex-mercenary
• Public Reason: Looking to settle down
• Zori's Thought: "Muscle. But broken inside. He'll guard what I tell him to. Kill who I point to. And when the mask comes off, he'll beg me for purpose."

 

[Zori Galea]

FRoSk

 

[Zori Galea]

The lift descended in silence, sinking far beneath the surface splendor of Euphoria Vale. Gone were the fragrant gardens and golden promenades, replaced by a hush so profound it seemed to press against the skin.


Eliune Frosk stood at the center of the obsidian platform, swathed in pale robes, her fingers trembling slightly as she clutched a carved bone charm—her late husband's final gift. The air thickened the deeper they went, perfumed not with floral delight, but with something more ancient: salt, ash, and the scent of dying stars.


She wasn't alone.


Around her, members of The Velvet Crucible stood motionless, faces obscured by shimmering veils woven with silver runes. They did not speak. They hadn't spoken since arriving. They simply watched her—studying, measuring, waiting.


A soft chime announced their arrival.


The lift opened into the Sanctum of Refraction.


The room was impossibly vast, carved from volcanic glass that refracted light in unsettling ways. Glowing crimson ore pulsed faintly in the veins of the walls, and the ever-present mirrors whispered faint phrases in dead tongues. No one acknowledged the sound. To hear them was normal. To answer them… less so.


At the center stood the Table of Becoming—a slab of alabaster bone, etched with glyphs that coiled like serpents or intestines. Eliune's breath caught at the sight of it.


And then… she arrived.


Zori entered like a hymn in silk and shadow, her presence instantly filling the room with heat and awe. She walked barefoot, the black lace and crimson silk of her robes drifting behind her like smoke, the silver chains on her arms softly singing as she approached the altar.


Her eyes, molten red and serene, locked onto Eliune.

"Beloved child," Zori spoke, her voice like velvet wine. "Are you ready to shed your shell and wear your soul?"

Eliune swallowed hard. "Yes."


Zori smiled. "Then come."

 

[Zori Galea]

Zori guided her gently to the table, placing a hand over Eliune's heart. The chamber dimmed. The Crucible began their chant—low, guttural, ancient. The mirrors rippled. Blood seemed to trickle along the seams in the stone walls. It was beginning.

"Tonight, we offer becoming to the One who waits behind the stars," Zori intoned. "The one who is not god, nor demon, but both. The one who reflects all things and devours falsehood. The entity known now… as AZIS."

The name echoed and reverberated like distant thunder. The temperature dropped.

Zori retrieved the ichor vessel—a black, pulsing urn sealed with teeth. When she opened it, a viscous, shimmering black fluid writhed within, alive with unspoken intention.

"AZIS," Zori whispered, "she is the silence before birth, the scream before truth. Diabolical, loving. Enlightenment given shape. Let her reflection find you worthy."

She dipped a blade into the ichor and sliced a spiral across Eliune's palm. Blood rose in a delicate coil, twisting unnaturally upward—weightless and glistening.


Zori extended a chalice—black glass, rimmed in teeth. Inside, Eliune's blood mixed with the ichor.

"Drink. And become more."

Eliune drank.

The moment the chalice left her lips, the room shuddered. The lights dimmed further. The glyphs around the table flared crimson, and Eliune rose off the ground, arms outstretched, eyes rolled back.​

The Crucible began the Echo Chant, their voices merging her name and the name "AZIS" until they were indistinguishable. Reality bent. Mirrors wept. The ore veins flared like veins in a living thing.


Eliune gasped.

"I see… stars screaming… colors that have no name. He's here… he's here with me…"

Zori leaned close, pressing her forehead to Eliune's. Her voice, now barely above a whisper, was loving and terrifying.

"AZIS welcomes you. You are no longer woman, no longer widow. You are seer. You are sleeper. You are mine."

She kissed her brow—and with that, the spiral brand burned into Eliune's chest, seared into her skin like a living sigil.


Eliune screamed—not in pain, but in ecstasy—and collapsed, cradled by shadow.

Afterward

​

Zori stood alone as her followers carried Eliune away to the Recovery Quarters.

The Sanctum dimmed.

The mirrors fell silent.

And Zori whispered into the darkness behind them:

"She is ready. More will follow. The Vale awakens. The Harvest approaches."

From the mirror directly behind her, something whispered back.

Something that did not breathe.

Something… watching.

 

[Zori Galea]

Euphoria Vale's Upper District — Three Days After the Ascension​

The sky above Euphoria Vale shimmered in hues of coral and lavender. Artificial sunsets designed by neuro-responsive atmospheric panels slowly cycled overhead, painting the illusion of endless golden hour.


Zori Galea stood on a raised marble terrace overlooking the crescent-shaped lagoon and its network of luxury homes. Her crimson cloak caught the programmed breeze like a monarch's banner.


Below, three developers stood at attention—sweating, smiling, eager. Their crisp clothing, pressed tablets, and finely rehearsed language would have fooled any typical client.


Zori was not typical.

"I want no straight lines," she said flatly, eyes fixed on the gentle curve of the shore. "Curves are comforting. Spirals even more so. They soothe the unconscious mind and whisper to the soul of cycles. Birth, death. Consumption. Renewal."

The lead developer, Mr. Therix, nodded and scribbled notes. "Yes, Lady Matriarch. Curvilinear designs. Psychological harmony. Absolutely."


Zori turned to face them, eyes glowing softly beneath the canopy shade. "And no more fences. Only veils."

"I—Veils, my lady?" Therix hesitated.

"Yes. Silk, translucent barriers. Let them suggest boundaries instead of enforcing them. Euphoria Vale is not a prison," she purred. "It's an invitation."

She moved closer, a shark among guppies. "And the Temple District?"

Therix hesitated again. "Still awaiting zoning permits. Local governance seems hesitant."


Zori's smile didn't fade, but her voice grew colder.

"You'll tell them the Vale is a pilot for interplanetary peace. The Matriarch has backing from several off-world philanthropists. If they ask names, give them the names I gave you. No mistakes. "

"And if they ask again?"

She raised her hand slowly—two fingers curled just slightly—and Therix's eyes fogged. He blinked, relaxed, and nodded slowly.

"They won't ask again, my lady."

Zori's smile returned, warmer now.

"Lovely."

 

[Zori Galea]

Eliune lay in a tub of silken white ichor, barely conscious. The chamber around her was quiet—lit only by hovering opalescent orbs that pulsed to the rhythm of her heartbeat.

A Crucible healer—a woman with no mouth and four tattooed eyes—sat cross-legged nearby, chanting in a language that didn't use air.

Around Eliune, the walls were carved with murals of the entity known as AZIS—represented not as a being, but as a ripple, a shadow, a dozen mouths whispering into a mirror held by no hand.

Eliune's body floated. Her branded chest spiral glowed faintly. The wound had closed, but the mark had not faded.

In her mind, she was elsewhere.

Standing on an endless plain. Voices all around. The stars above bled color, and her husband's voice whispered to her in phrases both comforting and unknowable.

"Not death… not sleep… just forward…"

She tried to speak, but her voice had changed. She could hear herself say:

"I am the mirror. I am the feast. I am not Eliune. I am not separate."

And then… silence.

She blinked and awoke, gasping, the ichor clinging to her like milk. The Crucible woman stood now, watching.

"The Matriarch will summon you soon," the healer said at last. "AZIS smiles with teeth."

 

[Zori Galea]

Zori lit a single candle and placed it before the newest resident dossier on her desk.

Profile: Dr. Emrin Lael

• Age: 41
• Profession: Cybernetic Anthropologist
• Relocated from Coruscant for "peace and clarity"
• No Force sensitivity, but recurring visions and neural resonance reports

Zori ran a finger down his psychological profile.

"Curious," she murmured. "Could be useful. Or… delicious."

She snapped her fingers. A servant entered, bowed.

"Prepare him for orientation. I want him at the next Spiral Gathering. We may test him for the next phase."

Zori leaned back in her chair, gazing out toward the moonlit lagoon where the new homes glittered like polished teeth.

 

[Zori Galea]

The night air buzzed with ambient music tuned to the frequencies of peace and longing. Holographic fireflies floated between the silver-leaved trees surrounding the crescent amphitheater carved into the cliffs above the lagoon.


The guests—all residents of Euphoria Vale—filed in slowly, dressed in linen silks of pearlescent white. Their expressions were serene. Too serene.


At the center of the amphitheater stood the Spiral Platform—a slowly rotating dais of black stone inlaid with mirrored spiral symbols. Incense smoke curled like tendrils from burning braziers around its base.


On the platform, veiled members of the Velvet Crucible circled in unison, whispering in a forgotten language as they dragged curved staves through patterns of dust and bone meal. A hush fell over the crowd.


Then—she appeared.


Clad in layers of sheer crimson, her braided hair held in place by bone pins etched with Sith glyphs, Zori descended the stairs in silence. She walked barefoot, and wherever she stepped, the spiral on the stone glowed red.

"My children," she began, her voice carrying across the entire amphitheater without amplification. "We gather here not to worship… but to become."

A gentle murmur of awe.

"The Spiral is not just a symbol—it is a map. Inward, outward. Beneath and above. It leads not to salvation, but to AZIS, who is neither god nor demon. AZIS is hunger, love, indifference, transformation."

She reached the center of the dais.

"This is the Spiral Gathering. A step. A taste. Tonight, we open the wound again… and let meaning bleed from it."

Cheers were forbidden. The audience only hummed—harmonically, low and resonant. The Crucible's chanting deepened. The mirrors circling the platform rippled and warped as if responding to a storm in the Force.

 

[Sommer Dai]

A woman sat quietly at the edge of a secluded observation lounge above the amphitheater—far enough from the guests to remain unnoticed, but close enough to see the ritual unfold.

She wore a brunette wig, colored contact lenses, and a pale yellow dress befitting an upper-class real estate investor. A leather-bound folio rested in her lap.

She had introduced herself at the front gate as "Celeste Tharin, business magnate from Taris."

But her name was Sommer Dai.

The moment her contact—a disillusioned resident turned informant—mentioned a woman matching Zori Galea's appearance and power, she had made her way to Zeltros without hesitation.

She didn't know why. There was a pull, a pressure behind her ribs like an unspoken name. She hated herself for needing to know more. And yet, here she was.

As Zori spoke below, Sommer leaned forward.

"AZIS," she whispered. "What are you playing at?"

Her fingers gripped the railing.

 

[Zori Galea]

A Crucible attendant approached Zori, offering her a ceremonial blade of glass and bone.

Zori took it and drew a perfect spiral into the skin of her left palm. Blood did not drip—it hovered, curling into the air like smoke, then fell in drops onto the Spiral Platform.

"Let this spiral be our sigil. Let this blood be your invitation."

Three selected residents—new arrivals—were called forward. Each knelt, offered their own blood in silence, and kissed the stone at her feet. One wept with ecstasy. One trembled with fear. The third fainted.

The mirrors surrounding them rippled, then cracked. Not broken, but… opened.

A scent filled the air. Metallic and sweet.

"AZIS hears," Zori murmured. "AZIS watches. AZIS waits inside you."

From the spiral platform, red mist rose, swirling like a halo. Each person on the platform convulsed in ecstasy. Above them, the constellations shifted—the illusionary sky replaced by a starless black… and a single, slowly rotating spiral.

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer stumbled backward, suddenly cold. Her heart beat faster. A voice—not Zori's—whispered in her ear.

"She sees you."

She turned—no one there.


She clutched her folio tighter, unsure whether to run or stay.

she whispered to herself "What have you become?"

 

[Zori Galea]

Far below, Zori looked directly up into the empty lounge.

And smiled.

 

[Zori Galea]

The spiral in the starless sky turned slower now, but deeper — as if tunneling through dimensions rather than space. It wasn't a symbol. It wasn't even just a rift.


It was an eye. And it had opened.


From it poured the red mist, thicker now, congealing midair in elegant tendrils that slithered downward — drawn not by gravity, but by hunger. The mist touched Zori Galea first.


She spread her arms, welcoming it.


The tendrils entered her body through every opening. Her eyes rolled back, then flared molten orange as the last wisp entered her open palms. Her limbs jerked, then floated — not as if lifted, but loosed.


Then she danced.


The motion was liquid and serpentine, her hips rolling in controlled undulations, fingers trailing ancient sigils in the air. She spun, dipped, and shivered to music no one else could hear. A dance of both ecstasy and domination. Possessed—but in control.


The mist within her body pulsed visibly, glowing veins of red tracing up her arms and legs. Every footfall she made struck a drumbeat in the minds of those watching.


Some in the audience—especially the new arrivals—began to sob. A few stood and tried to leave.


They couldn't.


Invisible chains bound their will. Their bodies were rigid. Their eyes could not blink. Their breath slowed. They watched.


Because Zori wanted them to.

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer gripped the railing, her teeth clenched, sweat dripping from her brow. She should leave—must leave.


But her fingers wouldn't obey her.


The spiral in the sky beat like a second heart. The music of Zori's movement reached into her skull like a thread pulled taut.

"Stop it... get out of my head," Sommer whispered, a pulse of anger flaring.

And suddenly—she understood.


She saw a memory not her own. A Rodian—familiar—his hands trembling as he slipped poison into a goblet at The Gilded Veil. The same poison that killed Duke Verlo Canto in her lounge.


Sommer remembered investigating it. The Rodian had no known motive. No ties to any enemy factions. No signs of payment.


But now… she saw Zori's face behind his eyes. A subtle flicker. Her whisper in his mind.

"The crown is dead weight. Peel it free."

Zori had been there. Not physically, but with her mind. Controlling him.


Sommer gasped. She stumbled back from the railing, shaking. Her folio fell open on the lounge floor, pages fluttering.

"She murdered him," she said aloud. "She... she used him. Like a puppet."

And yet…


Sommer still couldn't look away.

 

[Zori Galea]

Back on the Spiral Platform, Zori's dance ended in a slow crouch. Her hands pressed flat on the bone-stone surface, her body arched back unnaturally, head upside down to face her audience.

"This is the first Becoming," she breathed.

Her voice now sounded like two voices at once. Hers… and another. Older. Genderless. And vast.

"AZIS enters me, as I enter you. Enlightenment is no gift—it is a price. And you… have paid."

All at once, the mirrors ringing the platform shattered inward.


The fragments floated in place like shards of reality, reflecting impossible images: galaxies turning backward, children aging in reverse, faces twisted with laughter and pain at once.


Zori stood slowly. The mist around her had vanished—but its presence remained in her stare. In her grin.


The red spiral above closed slowly, sealing the sky again.


Applause was not given. No one moved.


They could only kneel.


Even Sommer—despite herself—fell to one knee.


But her eyes burned. With hate. With knowledge. With the fire of vengeance beginning to spark again.

 

[Zori Galea]

A soundless wave burst from the broken mirrors — a low vibration that rattled the lungs but made no audible note. Then—

Silence.

Not silence as absence, but silence as erasure.

The spiral above sealed shut like the lid of a coffin. The redness in the air dissipated, evaporated into nothing. The pulsing energy from the obsidian chamber walls dimmed.

And just like that…

Everyone blinked.

And breathed.

Someone coughed. Another yawned, unaware of the tension their body had just endured.

"Was there a speech?" murmured a finely dressed Twi'lek woman beside the central stair.
"Did… did we just finish a performance?" a Duros near the back asked, rubbing his forehead.
"Why are my eyes wet?" someone else whispered.

A low murmuring spread through the Spiral Chamber — confusion unifying the crowd like religion.

And at the center of the bone-stone platform, Zori Galea stood serene and radiant, utterly composed. A soft glow bathed her from no apparent source. Her black robes now shimmered with red runes. She smiled gently, as though she'd just completed a beautiful aria.

"Thank you all," she said softly. "The energy you've offered tonight will be remembered, always."

She bowed.

No one clapped — not because they didn't want to, but because they didn't remember why they should.

She descended the steps and walked through the parted crowd, who gave way instinctively, reverently.

 

[Sommer Dai]

She did not blink.


She stared straight ahead, unmoving. The spiral was still etched in her retinas. Zori's dance. The red mist. The Rodian. The voice.

Azis.

The name echoed still. It meant nothing… but it was everything.

"No… no, I saw it…" Sommer whispered. But her voice trembled not with fear.
Not anymore.

Something inside her had changed.

Not broken — bent.

Her fists unclenched. Her breath slowed. Her skin, still cold from the vision, now tingled with warmth.

And at the edges of her mind, there was a whisper not her own.

"You always sought answers, Sommer Dai. Do not fear the source of truth. It wears many names. Call me mother. Call me lover. Call me home."

Sommer's body turned. Her own volition? It was hard to tell.

 

[Zori Galea]

Zori… at the far end of the chamber, just before slipping into the passageway beyond had paused.

She then Looked back.

Their eyes met across the sea of confused guests.

And Zori smiled — this time, not benevolently.

Hunger. That was the only word for it.

She raised a hand, a single finger, curling slowly. Beckoning. Summoning.

"Come, Sommer," Zori whispered aloud, though no one heard her but her prey.
"Your embrace is overdue."