Private &nbsp; Hello Again, Brother

Soah Ty’Jyn · Aug 26, 2025

Veradun Sharr

Soah had just finished the last tug on the straps; the Mustafarian's long limbs were bound against the entechment rig with crude efficiency by the petite Acolyte. His chitin clicked faintly when he stirred, but he wasn't waking anytime soon. She leaned back on her haunches, dark claws flexing once before curling into her palms.

That was when it hit her.

A sharp flare through her nostrils, the tips of her ears twitching forward. After a second, her dark head canted slightly, amber eyes narrowing as her body stilled in that instant predator's focus. It wasn't the Force that pricked her nerves, no ripple in the current that had alerted her. No, this was primal, the kind of instinct that came from Felacatian blood.

There it was again. Scents threading through the stale air. Old blood...and something else.

The tips of her ears and her head angled toward the faintest sound, light steps tracing along the ship's frame. Too faint for prey, too deliberate to be an accident.

Someone else was here. Not Kasir... no, his presence thrummed differently, familiar in the corner of her senses. These scents were strange. Not fully human.

Something else.

Soah inhaled again, a slow drag that filled her chest. Her tattoos, inky things alive with their own restless will, rippled across her skin in agitation. The ink shifted like restless smoke, responding to her unease. There was no heat of battle, no surge of danger that told her Kasir was in trouble. No, the feelings were different. Controlled. Invited, even.

Her lips peeled back in the faintest show of teeth, a low growl rumbling up her throat before she caught herself. She swallowed it down, though the sound still hummed faintly in her chest like the last note of a warning.

Kasir had brought someone aboard.

That knowledge bristled down her nape, a pulse of irritation sharper than claws. She stretched her senses outward, skimming the Force with a tentative brush. There, she felt the heavy press of Kasir's presence, cloistered in that chamber he'd never opened to her. The realization sank like a stone in her gut.

Without being able to stop it, that incessant need to find out more nagged harder than discipline. Who had Kasir invited in? And why had he invited them into that room?

There was no mistaking the predatory grace in Soah's approach, each slow step measured as she slipped into the shadows, moving with the silent, fluid ease of a predatory cat; the Mustafarian would have to wait.

Time to see what Kasir was keeping from her.

Kasir Dorran · Aug 27, 2025

Veradun Sharr |

Kasir’s chamber breathed beyond darkness; the air thickened, growing dense, and viscous, as though an unseen force had bled the light, leaving only shadows with cruel intent. They curled around the Sangnir like a cloak, suffocating and intimate alike, pressing inward with whispered promises. Nearby, the servant lingered, a mere afterthought in his presence, stripped of agency, reduced to nothing more than a silhouette under the spectral glow, unless her silence was required elsewhere.

And here, in this place of secrets and rituals, his cold gaze fell upon her once more.; but this was not the red hunger of bloodlust kindling in his eyes; no, it was something primordial. It was possible, she’d very well become a gift for his younger brother’s newfound transformation; to learn the blessings of regeneration, just as he had. That may have been why the Panotoran’s cruel nails carved deep into his back across uncounted nights, though it bore no lasting mark; the scars healed swiftly, mocking the touch of those who sought to bind him. For countless who came before had tried to reach Kasir’s soul, only to find echoes where substance no longer resided, so he remained elusive, untouchable, beyond the grasp of mortals

The command was given, too insignificant for words, and with that simple gesture, her form seemed to dissolve into the shadows, parting them with ease as she made her way towards the heart of the room. An obsidian altar was unveiled. In that moment, Veradun's surrender could be heard, barely above a whisper, swallowed whole by the darkness.

The elder Sith, ever a man of few words, for once, felt a rare sting of longing, yearning for the ability to voice the storm that resided within. But those words remained imprisoned, behind the iron will that had been distilled through suffering in the Dresuoti, where identity was stripped away with each lesson.

A Darkseeker, above all else.

He led Veradun near the altar, an enactment awaiting. Pale, deathly hands became instruments of both discipline and mercy: one palm pressed firmly against the forehead, fingers spreading wide into the hairline, anchoring, controlling; the other curled around the back of his skull, bracing the occiput. Such pressure was absolute, immovable and cold, like holding stone captive in flesh, so that the Nagai could neither recoil, nor resist. There was no room for a tender caress; this was a binding rite, and so survival became more necessary than compassion.

The icy talons of death shrouded the throat next, deadly tendrils creeping, revealing a jugular beneath crimson that was akin to dancing like dying embers. Kasir’s fangs flickered into view, ghostly blades as his face emerged from the shadows, like a visitor from Hell. Breath mingled with what may have been a gasp, and with a sharp snap, the skin was punctured. Warm blood swelled against the wound, a living hymn, as his mouth opened so that he might catch the first bead in a chalice of claim.

The sweet metallic nectar flooded his senses, copper and iron, spilling through clenched teeth. An unholy communion. With restraint, the Sangnir deepened the drain, each pull a sacred vow, each fading heartbeat another seal on this new pact. Many lives had unraveled in cadence under his hunger, but this time it was different. Fervor was replaced with fragility, strength ebbing from his soon to be fledgling.

In due time, he laid the boy gently back upon the altar, watching as life withered away.

At the edge, the Panotoran, once an alchemist before capture, hovered, ceremonial dagger poised like an oracle. Kasir’s hand pressed to Veradun’s sternum, feeling the faint pulse. Finally, the blood slave moved with purpose. Before her lay a bowl filled with crushed bone and cortosis, both taken from the Holy Worlds region, where false doctrine spread like rot. It was blended in a bowl etched with ruins, appearing as veins. A single drop of her own blood fell into the mixture, mixing with black resin that would awaken the elements.

An invocation.

Her breath warmed the concoction, a flicker of flame sparkling at the core. She chanted a litany in Ur-Kittat. As it shimmered, Kasir pressed his palm into it, flames licking into his skin, burning not only a mark into flesh, but into his very being.

The blade descended, just enough to tease the liquid along its edge before claiming it from her hand. As he shifted, he tore open the fabric that once draped Veradun's chest, revealing an expanse of flesh. He wielded the dagger like a scalpel, each cut synchronizing sacred syllables over where a heart still hoped, unaware of what it would soon become. Each stroke hissed, wisps of smoke curling up from fresh wounds.

Cut, syllable, cut, syllable.

The crimson rune glistened.

A wound and covenant carved.

Ashajontû Drakûl

Then, kneeling beside the altar, he opened himself. A slash across his wrist bled freely, the scarlet truth streaming down his palm. "Tash midwan nun asha. Nwûl etet jontû qâzoi,"he murmured. Lifting Veradun’s head, holding it with stilness, the Sith pressed his bleeding wrist to the boy’s lips, letting the warmth drip to his tongue.

This was more than sustenance.

It was rebirth.

Veradun Sharr · Aug 30, 2025

Veradun’s eyes lingered on the Pantoran woman, studying her in the shadows of the chamber. She was silent before the two Sith, though the Nagai couldn’t help but wonder if that silence would persist if she had control over her own voice. The more he observed her and Kasir, the more his suspicions began to shift to certainty.

And they were all but confirmed when Kasir gave a silent command, one she moved deeper into the heart of the chamber without hesitation, as if compelled to obedience. The Apprentice felt a faint smirk twitch at the corner of his lips - though he said nothing on the matter itself, though he was now fairly convinced that through some sort of magic or sorcery or perhaps through his Sangnir abilities - Kasir had bound a servant to himself.

As Veradun voiced to Kasir his desire to press forward, the blue skinned beauty unveiled what appeared to be an altar of some sort, carved from some glassy black stone that the Nagai recognized to be obsidian. It was at this point that he was guided by his elder brother towards the altar, the shadows seeming to hug close to the Sangnir, wrapping him in its presence. As they drew nearer, Veradun’s heart began to beat a little bit faster as the sense of looming fate became stronger and stronger. Silence reigned between Sangnir and Nagai as Kasir brought Veradun to a stop beside the black stone altar and faced him.

A pale hand, cold as the grave, was lifted to rest against the young man’s forehead as fingers slipped through raven black locks, gripping in a manner to hold Veradun fast and immovable. Pale eyes flickered to Kasir’s dark gaze, and there was the faintest flicker of emotion within the Nagai’s gaze; fear mixed with trust. A look that shined with uncertainty, but remained still because of bondship. But he couldn’t help the increasing beat of the heart beneath his breastbone and as his head was tilted to reveal the major vein at the throat, its rapid pulse would become apparent.

Blue eyes shifted away from Kasir to gaze into the shadows behind him as tension began to coil within him, survival instincts warring with his will to continue. There was a part of mind, his subconscious, that screamed at him to break free, to flee - but he ignored it. He focused instead on his breaths, wondering how many of them he had left. Kasir had made it seem like he might actually die in this transformational process, but he still wasn’t quite sure.

…that was until Kasir’s fangs had pierced the soft and pale flesh of the side of his throat in the blink of an eye. The movement was so quick that Veradun hardly registered that his brother had even moved - that was until he felt the pain that lanced through his neck, white hot and piercing. He stiffened, his entire body going taut as an involuntary gasp escaped him. It took every ounce of Veradun’s discipline and will to not fight back - even as the pain grew and Kasir settled and locked into place.

Behind the pain came a chill that draped itself across the Nagai’s skin, cascading down his body from head to foot. With it came a weakness, a dizziness as the shadows began to shift and stir and spin. It was gradual at first, and then he started to see white and black spots dance at the edges of his vision. A hot and cold sensation draped over his pale face, and within his chest his racing heart fluttered, skipped a beat. Still, Kasir drew his lifeblood from him; it wasn’t a frenzied sort of feeding, but deliberate. Slow, even.

As the edges of Veradun’s vision began to grow hazy and blackened, a numbness crawled through his body. He was mostly unaware when the weakness he felt forced him to almost sag against the Sangnir. He fought so hard to stay on his own feet, but he was losing consciousness. The last thing he felt before the darkness dragged him under its depths was being cold, and though he surrendered himself to it, there was still a sense of fear of the unknown, of what was to come, that danced within the fading sparks of his awareness.

The young Nagai floated in a strange place, not quite alive but not dead either. He was unconscious, but faintly aware of what was happening around him, at least in those moments while he still lingered along the edge of life and death. Blood still flowed freely from the wounds at his throat, crimson red against skin that was growing more and more pale with each passing moment. He felt the faintest touch against his chest, a pressure, and beneath it his heart fluttered sluggishly, its beats slow as it struggled to maintain a life sustaining rhythm. Veradun heard distant voices speaking in a language that he knew, but could no longer process.

Silence draped itself over the young Nagai, the darkness of rest seeming to call to him. For a moment that certainly felt like an eternity, he contemplated just letting himself go…being done with it all.

But…if he let death truly claim them, then who would be there to stop his Master from consuming the galaxy and bending it to his vile will? The newest Apprentice, the girl Eurydice? If he could have scoffed, he would have. No…death would have to wait…or be denied altogether.

If this worked, then he would exist well past the average lifespan of mortals. He would gain near invincibility - and time and the patience to wait for everything to play out to his designs…

Veradun was mostly lost to the depths when Kasir carved the sacred runes and sigils into the bluish-tinged skin of his cold chest. Dark blood faintly tinged the cuts, but so much blood had been consumed that there was not much left within the Nagai to bleed. Once bright and ice cold blue eyes were partially closed and still, fixed at nothing when Kasir lifted his head and held his bleed wrist over pale blue tinged lips.

Blood of the Sangnir dripped, flowed, pooled…what remained of Veradun’s self-awareness forced a reflexive swallow. There was a slight twitch across the youth’s body, before he grew very, very still.

Within, however, a transformation had begun the moment Kasir’s blood flowed through the Nagai’s system. The blood, filled with strange properties unique to the Sangnir race, immediately began to do its terrible work. Death was necessary for the transformation to truly begin, and as the unique chemicals and properties seeped into the Nagai’s blood system and circulated through the heart and brain - it destroyed that which bound Veradun to his former, mortal life, reshaping his internal parts to fashion him into a new sort of hunter. Within moments of him consuming Kasir’s blood…Veradun’s heart would cease its beating, and pupils would dilate as death settled like a shroud over the young man. His last breath left his lungs, a soft breath that was little more than an exhale. Skin grew colder, more pale…and time began to tick by.

How much time passed by was uncertain. It would almost seem as if the blood hadn’t worked the way it should have. The Nagai’s body was cold and unmoving, his gaze glassed over, staring into nothing. And suddenly - his pale hands clenched into fists, and a second later there was an involuntary gasp as life returned to the young man, and he was reborn anew.

For Veradun, the transition from life to unlife, was no more than a deep sleep for him - slumber that he snapped from with inhuman swiftness. One moment, there was darkness…and the next, he was bombarded by a myriad of senses that forced him out of his rest. He blinked, trying to clear away the dryness over his eyes, and in a swift motion he sat straight up on the altar. His body ached - far beyond that which he had ever experienced before. Every sense of his was amplified beyond what he thought possible. His sense of touch was electrified; he felt everything - even the air itself. Sounds that his mortal ears might have never heard, were suddenly sharp and clear and it made his eyes flicker to try and track every drip, every creak. His sight was sharpened beyond what he ever knew; he could see things that no mortal could ever hope to see, colors that didn’t exist, contrast and sharpness to things that made him stare far too long at mundane objects like stone or flame, utterly mesmerized.

A figure nearby caught his attention, pale blue eyes that now held a certain shine to them snapping to land on a figure draped in shadow. He recognized who it was. Kasir, his brother. He felt something stir within his heart at the sight of him, a sensing of kinship - a bond so deep that it felt mingled with his entire being. Veradun blinked at Kasir, as his mind came back to him. Memories flooded through him, clear and sharp.

He remembered everything…even the moment of his death.

“Is…is it done?” he asked, his voice hoarse, a touch deep. With it came an involuntary inhale of breath - and scents assaulted his very being, awakening a thirst so profound that it ripped all thought from him, made him blind almost. He could only focus on one thing in that moment…finding a way to ease the thirst that clawed at his insides.

“I...I’m so thirsty…Water…something…please.” came his voice again, rough…desperate. He felt that if he didn’t get a drink, now, then he would die.

Kasir Dorran //

Kasir Dorran · Sep 7, 2025

Veradun Sharr |

Shadows pooled over them like liquid night, clinging to his limbs with a hunger equally possessive. The darkness of the room breathed in rhythm with him, attempting to stretch fingers of its own to enfold the Negai before Kasir would intervene. His chamber began to seal, its breath heavy. The air was dense, suffocating, teasing with the tang of iron, thick enough to taste.

There was a pulse; it stirred with a memory of something ancient.

Time stretched as he monitored his little brother’s body adapting, breathing uneven, muscles twitching, nervous system recalibrating under the influence of Sangnir blood. Skin lost its mortal warmth, replaced by a pallor that signaled quietus.

His slender digits, still stained with the boy’s blood, twitched with restraint. The tilt of his head was that of a Nexu scenting the air, nostrils flaring, as if tasting the change in him. He could feel their bond now, tight and visceral, like another pulse beneath his own flesh. It beat not from flesh and blood, but from something colder, something otherworldly entwined with his very soul. The crimson burn on his wrist throbbed, then slowly, reluctantly, the flesh knitted itself back together, weaving shut.

Wordless, he bore witness, the intensity of his predatory gaze forever measuring every breath drawn, dissecting every unspoken truth.

Even now, he saw Veradun’s chest, marked with scars of ancient rites, lines etched deep, glowing with smoke. Blood oozed slowly, its darkness defying mortal veins.

When the question arrived, Kasir remained motionless, void of any comforting gestures, instead slowly turning his head towards the blood slave standing at the chamber’s edge; her rigid posture, lowered gaze, and conditioned response to his presence displaying the results of months of psychological erosion.

She had no name; not anymore, and no need for one.

Without raising his voice or making a single gesture, Kasir’s mere gaze was enough for her to step forward, as if her bones were responding to a direct command, her robes brushing against the stone floor, the dagger in her hand a mere prop now as her grip had loosened. She approached, her eyes never meeting those of the two Sangnir; this was not out of fear, but because she was incapable of it, her humanity long gone.

So he tracked the hollow of her throat, the way a wolf might follow a wounded deer. And as Kasir finally turned back to the fledgling, his words were devoid of any emotion. "You need sustenance," he declared, his voice slicing through the air. "Not water; not coddling. What you feel now is not just thirst, but a deeper, primal hunger that is the beginning of what you are."

Closing the distance, his cold fingers reached out and traced the line of her jaw, like death itself caressing its next victim. Then, gripping it firmly, he guided her head to tilt, exposing the softer, more delicate curve of her neck. Beneath the thin layer of skin, the pulse of life throbbed, a fragile rhythm soon to be crushed by the teeth of a predator with insatiable thirst. His lip parted just enough to draw in the familiar scent of submission, the curl of his upper lip revealing a single, sharp fang.

He continued to speak, his voice a soft murmur, dripping with darkness; each syllable falling from his lips like poison, now laced with instruction. "You will not take too much," he stated, his tenebrous gaze piercing the very essence of her being, "She is trained, yes, but she is not infinite. If you feed too deeply, she will break; and if you leave enough, she will recover to serve again." He paused, letting the words settle like a heavy fog. "She is not yours," he warned, "For this stage, you must learn control, my brother, for your hunger is a beast that must be mastered. Or else, you will become nothing more than a vessel for these.. cravings."

Kasir’s gaze shifted briefly to the woman, before returning to the pale Nagai. He could have delivered the message directly into the boy’s mind, bypassing the need for speech. Part of him still wanted the her to hear him. But it also reminded him of absence, the exquisite ritual of savoring the surrender of fear at its purest, drawn from Force Essence, now gone, her ruin beyond the reach of any hand, mortal or divine.

"But for now, she belongs to you entirely." He spoke as one transferring ownership of a tool, rather than a sentient being. "She is yours to learn from. To mold. To test your limits. To understand what you are now."

The Panotoran did not react. She did not flinch. She simply remained still, her body offered.

Then he shifted, moving in a slow sweep along the room’s perimeter, prowling, carrying grace that could strike at any moment, weight balanced on the balls of his feet.

He wanted to see how Veradun would respond. Whether he would hesitate, whether he would indulge, whether he would lose control.

This was not a moment of compassion.

It was the first test.

A lesson.

A confirmation of what had been created.

Soah Ty’Jyn · Sep 8, 2025

Soah lingered at the threshold, every sense raw. The air in Kasir's chamber pressed heavy against her skin, thick with iron and copper, sour with sweat and shadow.

Kasir Dorran scent saturated everything, braided too tightly with other scents that did not belong. Old blood, fresh blood, copper heat, the cold tang of stone. The Pantoran's scent clung to everything like oil, aged into the room, months deep -- perhaps ever since after the Carnival when the Felacatian first felt the change. A fresher thread cut through it, the sharp tang of the Nagai boy.

Her pupils narrowed into thin, vertical slits. She did not move, did not blink. She watched.

Kasir's hands guided

Veradun Sharr to the altar, his voice a low murmur carrying words Soah was never meant to know. She saw the glint of fangs, the puncture, the blood. Ritual, breath, bite. She saw the Pantoran obey with a hollow grace that stank of compulsion. And all the while, the fine fur that covered her skin prickled with the restless shift of her living ink, crawling across her arms and ribs like smoke desperate to shield her from the sight yet equally gluttonous in its feeding of the emotions.

She was his apprentice. She was the one who dragged prey back for him to feed, who baked his blood tarts, who listened and learned, who tried to be kin. Shouldn't he be the one showing her what this was, what lay behind the forbidden door?

Why them and not me?

The silence after was worse than the ritual itself, louder than any words he had withheld. Soah's jaw tightened, lips pressed thin amidst the angular features of her dusky face. The chamber reeked of him, reeked of them and their mingled scents, until the Force itself felt like grit choking her lungs, their blood marking the chamber like a brand that screamed of her exclusion.

Yet the Felacatian held the stare of an unblinking stalking cat, until she broke it first. One step back. Then another. Her tail lashed once, then twice, before it quivered in sharp and resentful twitches.

If he wanted another, fine.

It didn't mean she had to stand there and watch.

Soah turned, the growl caught tight in her throat, and slipped back into the shadows, leaving the fledgling, Pantoran, and the Sangnir Darkseeker to their secret blood rituals and rites.

She had better things to do than stand here, watching him give away pieces of the darkness that should have been hers.

With that thought, she slipped deeper into the corridors of shadow. Sinew strained, bones cracked, and muscle tore and reknit as her body folded in on itself, reshaping with a sickening predatory grace. The shadows shivered around her as the massive, dusky predator emerged once more, fur and sharp spikes along her spine rippling with every ragged breath. The pain of the shift burned through her nerves, stoking the fire already gnawing in her chest.

Yet it only sharpened her fury.

It was time to hunt.

Veradun Sharr · Sep 11, 2025

Kasir Dorran //

Veradun blinked, pale and slightly luminous blue eyes staring intently upon Kasir, who was silent in the face of his younger brother’s question and plea for something to quench his thirst. He was so acutely aware of everything around him - every noise, every shift of movement. He felt as if he was on a knife’s edge as he tried his best to understand everything that was so…new.

He watched as Kasir turned his head, gaze turning slowly to land upon the blue skinned beauty that was standing at the edge of the chamber, partially bathed in shadow. Veradun’s eyes tracked his brother’s gaze towards her, and watched as she made a silent and obedient approach - without Kasir having said a single word.

The Nagai, or perhaps more correctly, the former Nagai…was mesmerized by the scene. The display of total dominance, silent but complete, struck a cord within him.

"You need sustenance," Kasir said, his voice cutting through the silent chamber, cold and devoid of anything that could be considered emotion. “Not water; not coddling. What you feel now is not just thirst, but a deeper, primal hunger that is the beginning of what you are."

His brother’s words confirmed what Veradun had suspected: he had undergone the transformation successfully. What he was feeling, all of it, was due to his new existence. He was a Sangnir, like his brother.

He watched from the altar he still sat upon as Kasir closed the distance between himself and his slave, tracing her jawline almost tenderly before gripping her chin and tilting her head up and to one side, exposing the delicate flesh of her throat. Something within Veradun coiled tighter at the mere sight of it, something he didn’t quite understand yet. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, even forgetting to blink.

When Kasir spoke again, Veradun’s gaze snapped to him. The elder Sangnir’s tone captured his sole focus, as if his words were holy, sacred. The cold tether that seemed to connect the young fledgeling to Kasir, reverberated in his mind, his soul. His brother warned him - no - ordered him not to take too much from her, the Pantoran woman. It clicked in an instant what Kasir was telling him: he needed sustenance, blood, and he would take it from her.

But he was forbidden from taking too much, and the elder Sangnir told him why: she didn’t belong to Veradun. She was Kasir’s, and though there was no outright declaration, Veradun sensed a thread of territorialism over her. Pale blue eyes flickered back over to the blue skinned woman, truly taking her in: her downcast, vacant eyes, her rigid posture, her silence. She was a tool, one with which he would learn how to master this new thirst, this hunger, that wrestled for total control.

"But for now, she belongs to you entirely. She is yours to learn from. To mold. To test your limits. To understand what you are now." Kasir said as he turned his dark, predatory gaze to Veradun, and the fresh fledgeling allowed his eyes to dip for just a moment, before returning to his brother’s pale face. Kasir released the Pantoran, before stepping away, almost seeming to glide into the shadows of the chamber. Veradun could sense him there, the weight of his eyes upon the former Nagai. Watching.

Waiting.

Blue eyes with their faint glow flickered back towards Kasir, before turning inevitably towards the beautiful creature that stood so still, calm in the face of what was to come. Veradun couldn’t ignore the near maddening tug of thirst, of hunger. She was to be his relief, his salvation.

He hesitated for only a moment, before he moved. Instinct drove him more than anything; she didn’t even flinch or react when he was suddenly there, in her face. Now that he was close to her, he could scent something so decadent, so rich, coming off her skin. It was alluring, drawing him in closer to that soft, indigo patch of skin against the side of her throat. He tilted his head as he honed in on the rhythmic thud of her heart beneath skin, muscle, and bone. It filled his mind with a sort of static, the scent that he inhaled too irresistible. It clicked then that what he was smelling wasn't her skin. It was her blood beneath it.

The pale fledgeling moved in a blink of an eye. One moment he was standing just in front of the woman, the next they both were on the cold stone ground with her wrapped in a tight hold that would prevent her from escaping - if she even had the wherewithal to do so. Fangs, freshly forged and lethally sharp, pierced soft skin and the carotid artery that pulsed with life, and warmth flooded Veradun’s mouth and senses.

The first swallow was like a gulp of water for a man dying of thirst in the desert, and Veradun consumed more greedily - deep and long pulls of the most wonderful thing he’d ever tasted or consumed in his life. He was slammed with a dozen different sensations, though relief was chief amongst them - relief that gave way to a sense of pleasure and contendedness. A low rumble, a mix between a growl and a hum, escaped his chest.

Beneath pale lips, he could feel the thunder of her pulse, the throb of a heart that quickened - then began to flutter more weakly. A red haze filled the fledgling Sangnir’s mind, blocking out thought or reason as he slowly unraveled to the demands of the thirst that burned his veins. Somewhere, in some part of his mind, he could hear a voice telling him to pull away, to not drain her dry - so that she could live to serve again. But he was just too hungry, too new, to listen…to heed the warnings.

Kasir Dorran · Sep 27, 2025

The Sangnir would not bother turning his gaze toward the door of the chamber, even as he felt her presence lingering there; Soah's essence pressed against the edges of his awareness like feline claws scraping against obsidian glass. The Felacatian's jealousy was a novel sensation, sharp and foreign, an emotion he'd never tasted from her before. Yet it struck him with coldness, another shard of ice to pierce his black heart; though, perhaps, this was necessary, lest he need to be reminded on the depths of his cruelty.

This was the side he had always shielded the girl from, the side that had forced him to adapt in ways once thought impossible.

Steps carried him that slow, predatory circle around the altar, circling prey with cruel precision. His weight was perfectly balanced on the balls of his feet, forever a serpent waiting for a moment to strike. His gaze not once left Veradun, a fledgling whose hunger would now burn with the intensity of a dying sun, eyes glowing faintly with the promise of blood. And as his chest rose and fell in an unnatural rhythm, the tension only grew thicker, like the stench of death that followed the Darkseeker's wake.

Sentinel in such stillness the Pantoran stood, seemingly sculpted from the very ruins surrounding her; a vacant vessel that dared not to flinch even as the undead Nagai gazed upon her with a thirst bordering madness.

His head tilted, studying her, a representation of will, not weakness. She wasn't untrained; no, she had been sharpened in other realms. But when it came to the sustenance of crimson liquid, the hunger of which defined two brothers now, she was uninitiated, left to watch from the threshold of a rite no longer in her possession, a silent scream in the darkness of Kasir's twisted world.

A fraction of emotion touched his ghostly visage as malevolent orbs narrowed, like the first winds of winter that bring with them the promise of death. He reached outward, not with voice, but with thought, a dark tether of shadow that brushed against

Soah Ty’Jyn 's mind. Mustafar was his domain; no distance on this fiery rock could escape him now. The girl's frustration was a poison in the ice of his veins. Maybe, she hated him. The one who had trained her in the ways of the blade, the mind, nurturing steps that descended further into the darkness of their order. But he had no words of reassurance to bridge this gulf.

What he did have, was anger.

Fang and furs, but little more.. smoke, thin, choking, and now gone with the first wind.

Envy registered as betrayal.

And so it was that he delivered the only message he could, his voice a whisper that crawled through the apprentice's skull. His words, for the first time, dripped with venom.

<<You skipped the lesson, little shadow>

And then, Veradun moved, with speed that was impossible to achieve as a mortal, now etched into every sinew and muscle, for he was a creature bred for one purpose. Destruction. The darkness at the chambers floor would even cower in approach.

His unblinking stare watched as lifeblood was drained, each gulp measured in his gaze and every tremor of the boy's body dissected. The red haze in Veradun's eyes spoke volumes, revealing the battle between his insatiable hunger and dwindling control. The slave's pulse faltered, her body sagging as a final sacrifice.

Not entirely surprised, the little brother did not stop, for he was succumbing to the darkness within.

But finally, Kasir's patience snapped, voice cutting through the ritual chamber like a whip crack. "Enough." Such words held a weight, a command that could not be denied, as he stood as a witness to this dance.

As if summoned by the devil's own will, the Sith's hand lashed out in that instant, fingers clawing deep into the fledgling's shoulder with a strength that brooked no resistance; a cruel reminder of the power that lurked, capable of making him a marionette in the grasp of a master. He could see the blood smeared across parted lips, a reminder of the pain and power coursing through him.. now burning like wildfire.

Like carving into flesh, Kasir's gaze bore into him with a coldness that could only be matched by the depths of the abyss. It was a merciless stare that held a lesson, a brutal truth that the weak could not survive in this galaxy. For hunger was more than just desire, but a primal beast, waiting to be tamed.

Though he would never voice it, the Sith too would not allow him to fall to some gluttonous demise.

"Hunger is not your master. It is your weapon."

Pantoran gold was dulled, glassy, unfocused.. her eyes darting without rhythm, trying to anchor to something familiar, but would find nothing. Had she tried to orient herself, thoughts would have slipped like water through trembling fingers. She would not be able to tell whether she was prey, servant, or even sacrifice. Her body shaking was not from cold, but aftershock. Muscles twitched in an attempt to hug both knees, nails biting into her own flesh. Surely, a futile attempt to believe one was still there, still whole.

She would need sustenance too, his whispers. A hiss of breath in the ear, an echo of her own heartbeat. They weren't from comfort; they were to brand, each syllable the link of a chain.

“Look at her. See how she still breathes? That is control. That is survival. Leave nothing wasted.. but leave something standing.”

An index finger extended, not with warmth, but as though it were another blade to be drawn. Not a beckon, not truly.. more so a claim. The tilt of his wrist spoke of ownership. Shadows followed in motion, clinging to his knuckles, stretching like threads of ink toward the victim.

“If you drink like an animal, you will die like one. And it won’t be from my hand.”

Veradun Sharr · Sep 28, 2025

Kasir Dorran

Kasir’s sharp voice ripped across the darkness of the chamber and pierced through the red haze that had consumed Veradun’s mind in his first feeding, and in the next instant he felt pain - sharp and undeniable - tear into his shoulder. It caused the fledgling to tear blood soaked fangs from his victim’s tender skin as he whipped his head around to snarl viciously at the one who would dare stop him from satiating the hunger that so ravaged his insides. The snarl froze in place as recognition dawned upon Veradun’s face, and the freshly turned Sangnir dipped his gaze in a measure to placate his elder brother whose eyes were now coldly piercing through Veradun’s very soul, or so it seemed.

"Hunger is not your master. It is your weapon." Kasir said, his voice matching the icy coldness in his eyes. Veradun gazed back at his brother for a moment, the red haze slipping away from his mind as he slowly came down from the frenzied high of the feeding. The taste of the Pantoran’s blood was still on his tongue, still in his throat, but now that his awareness was returning to him he could feel that he was more than satiated…for the moment, anyway. He’d let himself get carried away, and had almost claimed something that did not belong to him.

“Look at her. See how she still breathes? That is control. That is survival. Leave nothing wasted.. but leave something standing.”

Veradun turned his slightly luminous eyes towards the blue skinned beauty, and he let the lessons that Kasir provided sink into his mind as he gazed upon her. The wounds on her neck were still bleeding, still raw. She was more than dazed, she was in shock from the loss of blood she had suffered. Had Kasir not pulled him away when he had, she would have likely died.

“If you drink like an animal, you will die like one. And it won’t be from my hand.”

The warning was clear, and after several moments of near statue-like stillness, Veradun pushed himself away from the Pantoran blood slave and rose to his feet in a graceful manner. He cast another glance over towards Kasir as he dipped his bloodstained chin curtly in recognition of what he’d been told.

“Forgive me, brother. I got carried away by the moment.” he said, his voice low and neutral. “It…is hard to stop. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted something so…exquisite before, and it eased the burn I felt.” He murmured, almost as if trying to find an excuse for why he had allowed himself to get lost in the red haze. “How…how do you know when to stop?” Veradun suddenly asked, finally turning his full attention back to his brother and completely ignoring the Pantoran women that he had very nearly killed. “How often will I need to do this, to feed?”

There were more questions that flickered through Veradun’s mind, but he didn’t quite know how to voice them yet. There was a flicker of some foreign emotion behind his glacial blue eyes, a vulnerability. He suddenly realized that he had much to learn about his new way of existence, about how to even be a Sangnir.

And the only one he could look to for guidance, to teach him the things he needed to know, was Kasir.

“I know there is more to this, to what we are, than just blood and feeding. Guide me, brother. I want to know it all. I want to embody it all. Everything. If this is to be who and what I am, then I want to embrace it.”

Kasir Dorran · Oct 2, 2025

Carved from the marrow of night, he stood fixated upon the fledgling who now bore his blood. The chamber breathed with them, as though the stones themselves listened.

He heard the boy’s words. The pleas. The apology. The hunger. And most importantly, the request for guidance. These weren’t echoes of his own past, for his own turning on Jutarnd had been something of a curse, left to wander alone after.

The Sangnir’s gaze narrowed with coldness. The blood was visible, glistening, upon Veradun’s chin. That bond between them was taut, of shadow, of blood, understood only by those who had been reborn into the darkness. To outsiders, it would appear as affection, but this was something far more twisted. A dance of possession, responsibility, and the molding of the boy into the undead creature capable of navigating the galaxy.

“You ask forgiveness, brother, but there is nothing to forgive. You are what you are now. The hunger is not a mistak..it is.. the marrow of your being. It will burn in you until the end of time. What you felt when you drank of her, that fire in your veins, that ecstasy that drowned your reason.. that is the truth of our kind."

Fingers twitched once at his side, curling into a fist, to cage the hunger in his own veins. Nostrils flared faintly.

“You ask how to know when to stop. You stop when the hunger bends its knee. You stop when you decide it is enough, not when your veins scream for more. That is the difference between predator and animal. An animal feeds until it bursts, until it dies in its own gluttony. A predator feeds with purpose. Every swallow is a choice. As a Sith, every drop a weapon. You will learn to taste not only blood, but memory.. fear.. strength.”

Kasir’s gaze fell upon the Pantoran, still trembling. He gestured toward her with a tilt of his head, tone sharpening.

“Look at her..closer. She breathes still.”

The slave's body sagged exactly where the former Nagai left her. Indigo skin was slick with blood that still seeped from the twin punctures. She trembled from the aftershock of being drained. She was still searching for something familiar, but there was nothing. Nothing of comfort. Nothing of recognition. Only shadows pressing down on her. Hands curled into claws, digging in her own flesh, perhaps the only thing to remind her that she still existed.

"Now, she remains. She will heal. She will serve again. She will be a vessel for your hunger tomorrow, and the day after."

A chalice to be emptied and refilled..

Then, his presence pressed against her fractured psyche, urging her lungs to draw air, her mortal heart to keep beating.

<<You are not permitted to die.>>

“Tomorrow, she will bleed again, because she is mine to use, mine to break, mine to keep until I decide otherwise. That is the lesson, Veradun."

He began to circle the altar.

“You ask how often you must feed. At first, often. The fire in your veins is new, and it will gnaw at you without mercy. You will crave constantly. But in time, you will learn to starve. You will learn to let the hunger sharpen you, to let it carve you into something stronger. It will become another blade you wield, rather than a chain to bind you."

Finally, he stopped before him, orbs of obsidian peering down. A hand pressed flatly against his chest, over the runes that’d been carved into flesh, feeling the echo of something that wasn’t a heart.

"Once you master it, then you will be more than mortal. More than Sith. A predator that no galaxy can cage. That is what you will become."

Veradun Sharr · Oct 3, 2025

A faint flicker of relief passed through Veradun when Kasir waived off his apology, and listened as his brother impressed further upon him that he was what he was now. The hunger was not a mistake, was not something to feel regret about. It was at the very center of who and what he was now. The fledgling stood a little straighter, letting the brief moment of vulnerability he had revealed slip away from his shoulders. Idly, he lifted a hand and attempted to wipe the residual blood off his face, savoring the last little bits of it as he cleaned it off his skin. He felt warmth within, flowing through every part of his being. Warmth and life, vitality and strength. It brought a certain kind of contentment that he was unfamiliar with, but found he rather enjoyed. If this was part of what it meant to be a Sangnir, then he would embrace it gladly.

Kasir responded to Veradun’s questions, in the same manner in how a master taught their pupil. The fresh Sangnir mused that perhaps, for this period of time, Kasir was a sort of master for him. A guide, a teacher - and the young Sith absorbed the words, the lessons. His brother told him the difference between predator and animal, and drove the point home that they were predators. Their thirst could be honed into a deadly weapon, a useful tool…if mastered properly. The former Nagai nodded slowly in understanding, his gaze following that of Kasir’s as his brother bid the youth to gaze upon her more closely.

She still breathed, though no doubt she wished she wasn’t. Kasir continued, pressing the lesson home into Veradun’s mind. She would heal to serve again…and again. There was value in keeping her alive, from sipping rather than draining completely - as Veradun’s wanted to do only moments prior. The fledgling then saw her through new eyes - a new understanding. The lesson made sense to him; she was but a slave, broken and bent to the will of her master. She was useful, for as long as Kasir wished to keep her anyway. She provided what he needed, and that provision was graciously being passed to Veradun for a time.

A tool by which to learn how to control his base instincts, his hunger, and discover more truths about his new existence. Next time he had to feed, he would keep his brother’s words in mind and in his heart.

Veradun tracked his brother as the other Sith circled around the altar, never taking his eyes off the one who Turned him. He was drawn to keep his eyes upon the other Sangnir, a tether that hadn’t existed before the moment that he had stepped into the shadows. It must have been something new, something that was experienced between Sangnirs, between the one who gave the curse and the one who embraced it.

“You ask how often you must feed. At first, often. The fire in your veins is new, and it will gnaw at you without mercy. You will crave constantly. But in time, you will learn to starve. You will learn to let the hunger sharpen you, to let it carve you into something stronger. It will become another blade you wield, rather than a chain to bind you." Kasir said to him, before approaching to stand directly in front of the once-Nagai, pressing a hand against the bare chest that barely moved, over the fresh scar and branding carved into pale and cold flesh. "Once you master it, then you will be more than mortal. More than Sith. A predator that no galaxy can cage. That is what you will become."

Something about Kasir’s words struck Veradun hard. Harder than any physical blow he could ever receive. Pale, luminous blue eyes stared into dark obsidian orbs as it began to truly dawn on the youth just what lay before him. The possibilities, should he survive.

Veradun was silent for several long moments, his mind swirling with it all, trying to wrap around the truth that was dawning on him.

“This…is power.” He breathed, soft and with a hint of awe. “What I am, no…what we are. We…we are beyond the machinations of the galaxy, aren’t we? Beyond the Sith and the Jedi. Persisting beyond them and their petty squabbles.” A gleam suddenly made Veradun’s eyes light up as a slow and triumphant grin curled on his lips. “I could outlive my own Master and whatever dark schemes he plays at, like this. The Galaxy doesn’t belong to him, or to Dark Lords. It belongs to us…doesn’t it?”

Blue eyes shifted back to the Pantoran, and he stepped away from Kasir and towards her…not in malice or even the need to feed. Instead, he reached out and cupped her cheek in one hand…a surprisingly gentle and almost loving gesture…almost.

“We embody true power. The power over life and death, the power to decide who lives and who dies - to decide who is bound to us and who is free. We are the true Lords of Darkness.” He withdrew his hand from her face, though he still gazed down upon her for a moment longer.

“I know that I have much to learn with this new…state of being. But this…this is who I was meant to be.” He turned his gaze back to Kasir suddenly. “I serve my Master, but know that my loyalty lies with you, my brother. We are all we have now, for we will outlive everyone we know.”

Kasir Dorran · Oct 6, 2025

He stood within the chamber, feeling the weight of stone and shadow pressing relentlessly upon him, as if the very walls were breathing in his presence. But he did not move, not yet, allowing the fledgling words to linger in the air, sinking into the very marrow of the place, like a sickening poison. He heard the vow, the ambition, the insatiable hunger for power, and it stirred something in him, a primal instinct for dominance. There was no need for him to probe into the boy's mind to test their sincerity, for the bond of blood between them made it nearly impossible to carry lies. The truth simply thrummed in the veins, always cold, always undeniable.

His gaze hungrily traced the fledgling's hand, as it cupped the Pantoran's cheek with that possessive tenderness. Yet he would not intervene. Instead, he watched with detached curiosity, as if it were an experiment. On Mustafar, where prey was scarce, she held value only because she endured. But anywhere else, she would have been discarded already, or perhaps even worse, gifted to Veradun as a personal blood bag, a tool to learn restraint until drained of every last drop.

Only the faint tilt of his head betrayed him, a predator scenting the air.

A sharp, unexpected pang flickered through him, bringing a strange sense of relief that was alien. He could not understand the feeling, could not even name it, for whatever he once had was cut from him long ago.. carved out with the same precision that he now used to etch runes into flesh.

In their world of treachery and deceit, Kasir was intimately familiar with the feeling of uncertainty. As he watched Veradun move, he knew he had chosen correctly. That was rare. Veradun was that rarity. When he spoke, his voice was low, each word drawn slow like a steel blade sliding from a sheath.

“You begin to see. Thrones and temples.. those are illusions. The galaxy is ruled by those who decide who breathes and who does not.”

In the depths of his own mind, Kasir roamed, lost in the abyssal recesses, a place that always offered fulfillment amidst the solitude. For it was in the shadows that he found his truths, ones that began diverging from the Order. Though, in truth, the rot that festered, had become more and more comforting recently.

“You touched her, and she still lives. That is the lesson. Power is not in the taking. It is in the leaving. A vessel that endures will feed you again. A corpse will feed no one..”

Odd words, considering a trail of corpses followed where he traveled these days.

With a gaze that could strip flesh from bone, he let it linger on the fledgling. There was no smile, no softness in his features, but the oath itself between them, was enough for the chamber to bow in deference, shadows curling tighter.

“We are not Sith.. we are not Jedi. We are Sangnir. The eternal... the galaxy will forget all names before it forgets ours. In the end, we will still be here, drinking from its veins.”

Kasir began to circle him slowly, weight balanced on the balls of his feet, a serpent forever poised to strike. His presence pressed down like a tomb’s lid, suffocating and absolute.

“You are mine now." A whisper of iron. “Not as a slave.. not as prey. But as blood of my blood.”

Veradun Sharr · Oct 7, 2025

Tag:

Kasir let Veradun’s words settle over the dimly lit chamber, before responding to the revelations the Nagai had received in those moments. He pressed home further that such things like thrones and temples were nothing but illusions. Once upon a time, Veradun would have believed that there was no greater strength than to be a Sith Lord, a Dark Lord. But now he was beginning to see and understand that what he and Kasir were, was far above even the Sith and their lofty ambitions.

If he trained himself properly, honed his newfound skills and embodied the predator he had become…then even the most powerful of Sith Lords could fall to his hunger. How great a moment, to feast upon the veins of those who claimed to have all the power in the galaxy?

“You touched her, and she still lives. That is the lesson. Power is not in the taking. It is in the leaving. A vessel that endures will feed you again. A corpse will feed no one..” Kasir said to Veradun as he watched the fledgling caress her cheek. Veradun nodded slowly as the lesson truly sank home, and it wouldn’t be one he forgot. There was wisdom in it, common sense. Sure, there would no doubt come a time when he would feed until every last drop was consumed, but there was power in leaving just enough behind to allow life to remain, to continue.

A cycle of perpetual servitude by those deemed to be nothing more than blood slaves.

Veradun dipped his head back and inhaled deeply, filling up lungs out of habit more than necessity, as he gazed into the deep shadows of the stony basaltic rock above their heads. He could feel his body undergoing changes, transforming the blood he had consumed just moments prior into something that sustained him. It was a marvel, and he basked in it for the moment. He could feel energy, life, power, strength, flowing through his veins, into every part of him. He had never felt so alive before in his life, like he did in this very moment.

A wicked smile spread across his face as he returned his gaze to his brother, feeling the elder Sangnir’s gaze as it seemed to pierce through him. He hid nothing from Kasir, nothing from that cold and merciless gaze. He had nothing to hide.

“We are not Sith.. we are not Jedi. We are Sangnir. The eternal... the galaxy will forget all names before it forgets ours. In the end, we will still be here, drinking from its veins.”

“Yes…that we shall.” Veradun whispered back, still in awe of his new transformation, in awe of having his eyes truly opened. He eyed his brother as the Sangnir circled him slowly, the blood slave all but forgotten for the moment. It was just the two of them now, and the bond that sealed their connection. Kasir’s presence bore down upon the chamber, upon Veradun - its weight undeniable and dominating.

“You are mine now. Not as a slave.. not as prey. But as blood of my blood.” Kasir declared as he circled his fledging, his voice hard as iron and absolute. The former Nagai met Kasir’s cold, dark eyes, before he bowed his head in acceptance of the claim over him. He couldn’t explain it, but something else was at work here. He could only assume it was the nature of the Sangnir; it went above and beyond normal, mortal understanding and constraints.

Darth Nefaron may have been Veradun’s Master, but Kasir was his Blood-Bound. His Creator. The one who gave him his life, who had carved the binding rune into his chest. For the first time in a long time, Veradun felt whole.

“As it is spoken, so it shall be.” Veradun said, his voice low and carrying the weight of reverence, before he lifted his eyes back to his brother’s. “What shall be done now? What more can you teach me? Show me?”

Kasir Dorran · Oct 8, 2025

Nothing in the chamber escaped him. He could hear everything.. even the ragged pull of breath nearby, the scrape of her nails as she tried to steady herself, even the unnatural stillness in Veradun’s chest where a mortal heartbeat should have been.

The Pantoran staggered, dragging herself upright while her arms trembled, smearing blood across her throat and cheek. Her golden gaze found Veradun’s for a heartbeat.. bright, unreadable.

Awe, hatred.. or both.

But then, a shift. She leaned into the pain, lips parting as though the agony itself was welcome. When she found Kasir, they sought him with a desperate, fractured need.

His pallid lips were drawn into a thin line, but the darkness that lingered at the corners shifted into something that was not a smile. He did regard her as a man might look at a woman, nor even as a master might look at a servant. True to himself alone, he studied her with the same intensity as one studies a blade.. shattered, but not beyond reforging.

“She was broken for me.” Each word was a cut in the air that struck her soul. “Every fracture in her mind, every splinter in her essence, carefully carved so she would not only endure my cruelty.. but crave it. She does not fear it.. she begs for it. She does not recoil from the pain.. she drinks it like water from an intoxicating river, becoming more submissive, more devoted.”

His tone sharpened, as though it were the ceremonial blade being dragged across stone. “You have learned to sate your thirst. You have learned to restrain. Now you will learn to command, true mastery. Hunger is not only of the flesh.. it is of the mind. Mortals are weak because their thoughts are fragile.. easily led astray. They crave to be led. And we.. we give them that truth, that gift.”

A mechanical hand flexed once, as though already imagining the work, before he let it fall back to his side. The Pantoran’s lips twitched, a faint, broken smile, masochistic satisfaction dancing in her stare.. for the promise of torment was perhaps the only thing keeping her upright.

“Tonight, you will reprogram her, mold her in your own image. She will learn to ache for your command, to find her purpose in your.. cruelty. She will not serve you.. she will need you. Every denial will be her sustenance.”

Murmurs coiled through the walls, whispers heavy as iron.

“And she will thank you for it..”

A pitiless look descended upon the former Nagai. “That is why, for the remainder of your time here, when you walk these halls, she will forever be at your heel. When you call to her, she will come. When you command, she will obey. And when you feed, she will offer herself willingly. That is what I will leave you with, brother. Not a corpse. Not a trembling thrall. But a vessel who delights being broken.”

The organic hand raised, not touching her, but allowing pale digits hover inches from the temple. Eyes narrowed, and the thrall stiffened, her breath catching as though invisible hooks had suddenly sunk into her skull.

“The thread is so...delicate. Pull too hard.. and it snaps. Pull too soft.. and it slips away. But if you seize it just so..”

The Pantoran’s eyes rolled back, her lips parting in a faint gasp. She staggered, then dropped to her knees, not from weakness.. but from compulsion.

“..then they are yours. Their body, their voice. Their.. soul. This is domination.”

Still kneeling, her body was controlled under the influence of his command. “She will be your second lesson, too. Tonight, I will show you how to conduct obedience into her thoughts. Tomorrow, you will do it yourself. And when you master it, you will find that blood is not the only thing mortals can give you. Their minds, their very selves.. these too can be consumed.”

No ending came; the words hung in the air, meant to be suffocating.

“This art has a name. Ancients called it Qazoi Kyantuska, and soon you will find she is good for many things beyond sustenance. She will love the pain you give her. That is the true feast.”

His nostrils flared, testing the air for the stench of hesitation, though he would not expect to find it in the fledgling.

"You will not learn by watching; no, you will learn by doing. Place your hand here." A motion was given, just above the temple, where the mind could be broken most easily. "..and reach. Not with flesh.. but with hunger. With that same fire that gnaws at your cold veins now. Do not think of words, for they are meaningless in this.. realm. Do not think of mortal persuasion, for it holds no sway. Think only of the thread. It is there, already inside you, waiting, with the potential to bend the galaxy to your will.."

Veradun Sharr · Oct 9, 2025

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The sound of movement caused Veradun’s head to snap in the direction of the Pantoran woman, the movement quicker and sharper than it would have been had he been mortal still, the action purely that of a predator, a hunter. His piercing gaze settled upon her instantly, the blue orbs tracing over her in a manner that was almost unreadable, gazing upon the smear of blood that stained her neck and cheek. Likewise, once she had risen to her feet, she cast him a brief look before she turned her amber eyes upon Kasir. The way she looked at her master made Veradun’s head tilt to one side in curiosity as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Despite having nearly been drained to death, she still looked upon her overlord with an expression that bordered on raw desire.

Like she needed Kasir and whatever torment he saw fit to unleash upon her.

That thought made the youth’s pale lips quirk upwards slightly as a gleam shone in the blue depths of his eyes. He was beginning to sense that, despite her broken state, she rather enjoyed her state of existence and whatever suffering was brought upon her.

Kasir spoke once more, his voice cutting through the stillness of the chamber as he revealed the truth of her fractured mind, her broken existence. Veradun clung to every word his blood brother spoke, not once removing his gaze from the blue skinned beauty that stood just before them both. The slight upturn of the Nagai’s lips deepened as a cruel smile formed across his face. The more Kasir told him of her, the more he found himself marveling at the Pantoran woman, and seeing her with new eyes.

When his brother’s voice sharpened, his words now directed at Veradun himself, the youth turned his attention fully upon his Sire. Kasir said that he had learned to sate his thirst, and learned the necessity of restraint. But to come was another lesson, one in dominance. Of mastery and command. To this, he drew himself up a little more - dominance and taking command over others was something he deeply enjoyed and found satisfaction in. It was a trait of his that Nefaron exploited heavily and used to his advantage. Nothing quite gave the former Nagai a sense of control and power like seeing others bend to his will.

“- Hunger is not only of the flesh.. it is of the mind. Mortals are weak because their thoughts are fragile.. easily led astray. They crave to be led. And we.. we give them that truth, that gift.” Kasir finished, passing his wisdom and knowledge to Veradun, truths that the pale youth could only agree with. The minds of the lesser, the weaker, were indeed easy to lead astray and bend to one’s will. He recalled so sharply seeing the masses of slaves, who had been broken and tortured by the Corpse Lord, erect effigies towards the Dark Lord and worship him as their dark god. Who obeyed his will and wish and command as if it were the most sacred thing in existence.

Indeed, they craved to be led. They craved to have another be in dominion over them.

Beside him, Kasir’s mechanical hand twitched, clenched, briefly. The Pantoran still kept her gaze upon him, a faint smile tugging at her lips, but it wasn’t one of love or joy or happiness but something more sick and twisted. Like the promise of further pain and torment kept her going, kept her breathing in that moment. A light of eagerness seemed to dance in her golden eyes, and it enthralled Veradun for a moment.

He suddenly wished he could have her look at him like that, have all his subjects look at him with such a light in their eyes. A sort of darkness passed over the youth’s face and in his eyes, the dark desire of a master in the making.

“Tonight, you will reprogram her, mold her in your own image. She will learn to ache for your command, to find her purpose in your.. cruelty. She will not serve you.. she will need you. Every denial will be her sustenance.”

Veradun turned his gaze back to Kasir and let his eyes roam over his brother’s face, assessing those words. Had his brother seen his desire? Felt it? There was no hiding the flair of eager brightness in the fledgling’s eyes.

“...And she will thank you for it.”

It was almost too good to be true, and yet it was. Remorseless eyes settled upon Veradun’s face, pierced through him, as if seeing into every shadowed nook and cranny of the former Nagai’s dark soul. Kasir told him that, while Veradun remained within the enclave, she would follow in his shadow. His to play with how he pleased.

Veradun licked his lips, wetting them as he observed Kasir lift his non-mechanical hand towards her head - stopping inches from her temple. The woman stiffened suddenly, as if caught in an invisible web, and Kasir’s words whispered out a heartbeat later, revealing what he was doing: “The thread is so...delicate. Pull too hard.. and it snaps. Pull too soft.. and it slips away. But if you seize it just so..” Quite suddenly, the woman’s eyes rolled back and with a faint gasp she dropped to her knees and remained there, as if held in place by invisible chains. “...then they are yours. Their body, their voice. Their.. soul. This is domination.”

Veradun watched and listened with rapt attention as Kasir revealed that he would learn how to dominate another through the mind, and then the following day he would be expected to do it on his own. Recognition flared in his eyes when his brother told him the name of a particular spell he had seemingly used over the Pantoran; the former Nagai had studied and used Qazoi Kyantuska before - but only on the servants of his own Master.

Pale eyes flickered back to the blood slave and traced over her briefly when Kasir told him she would be good for many other things besides sustenance, and his mind wandered with the possibilities of what he now had in his possession for the time being.

Kasir motioned for Veradun to place one of his hands over her temple, much like how he had done just moments prior, and told the fledgling to reach within. Not in the manner he was accustomed to, but by using his hunger, the same that burned his veins and urged him to feast and satiate it. This was no mere mortal persuasion…this was to be something else entirely. Something different for the pale Sith to learn and master.

Some sort of new instinct urged him to catch her golden eyes, and the intensity behind his gaze acted as a sort of lure, a beacon to draw her into the depths of his darkness. The Pantoran, whose focus had been entirely up on Kasir even while upon her knees, slowly turned her gaze from her true master and towards Veradun.

As soon as they locked eyes, the world and space around the two of them vanished from his awareness, if only briefly. The predator within him was so fresh and so potent that it was no difficulty at all for him to find that tether, that thread, and intertwine his will with it as he sunk his mind into hers. It was a broken psyche, one that could be easily manipulated and controlled. She held a sort of twisted devotion for Kasir, enough so that claiming her obedience was a brief challenge, but the fledgling Sangnir pressed his own compulsion further and deeper into her mind. His presence wasn’t persuasion, it was an inevitability. He wasn't gentle, but he wasn't soft either. He struck the balance and poured his will into her mind. Mine, the thread seemed to whisper - a claiming dominance that blocked out everything else and took what it wanted. The blood slave's eyes widened for a moment, before she lowered herself even further to lay her forehead on the cold ground at his feet. It was a position of utter submission, a posture fit only for a slave. He knew it would take some time, some practice, before she did all that Kasir told him she would, but this was a start.

Pleased with the effort he had put forth and with a demonstration of his own power, he turned his focus once more to Kasir. “I can sense, feel, that what we are…our very nature…is that of power and control. Dominance...I feel it from you too, through this new link we share. I don't quite understand it yet, as I've never felt it from you before.” Veradun said, his voice low and deep, like a growling purr. “But it, this...” he gestured to the Pantoran, who still had her face pressed to the stone floor, "...feels natural to me."

Kasir Dorran · Oct 10, 2025