Private Invitation

[Nyxira Valis]

Unknown Regions

​

The fortress loomed like an obsidian titan against the churning skies, its spires tearing through the thick storm clouds that raged endlessly overhead. Lightning slashed across the heavens in violent arcs, illuminating the dark citadel for the briefest of moments before plunging it back into shadow. The storm was ceaseless, unnatural — crafted and maintained by a will strong enough to defy nature itself.

At its highest tower, behind walls of blackened stone and steel, Darth Nythera stood, her violet eyes glowing faintly in the dim chamber. From here, she watched over her domain, her influence stretching far beyond these hidden lands, reaching into the farthest corners of the galaxy where ambition still burned.

And today, her gaze had fallen upon Serina Calis .

The whispers of the Dark Side traveled far, carrying tales of a Jedi no longer bound to the chains of the Order. A Padawan turned seeker, drawn to the ancient rites of the Sith, the forgotten knowledge buried beneath layers of dogma and weakness. She had delved into rituals that others would fear, stepped onto paths that led only into shadow. And that intrigued Nyxira.

She had sent no message through the Force — Serina would feel no distant presence, no beckoning call. No, this invitation was far more direct. Crimson-clad sentinels, their armor etched with sigils of power, had been dispatched to locate her. They moved through the galaxy with singular purpose, carrying only a set of coordinates and a warning:

"You have been chosen. Follow these coordinates, alone. Share them, and you forfeit your life."

No threats. No pleasantries. Only certainty.

If Serina was as worthy as the whispers suggested, she would understand the gravity of this invitation. She would take the path offered, stepping into the unknown, seeking answers she would find nowhere else.

And if she did… she would come to the world of endless storms.

Where destiny awaited.

Serina Calis ​

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Rakata Prime, Unknown Location
Tag: Nyxira Valis ​

Serina Calis lounged in her obsidian throne, a glass of dark crimson wine resting lazily in her fingers. The air in her underground sanctum hummed with a subtle energy, a quiet, lingering presence of the Force that bent and swayed under her will. Rakata Prime will become hers—its ruins, its secrets, its darkness—and from here, she will weave her own empire in the shadows. The obsidian walls of her throne room absorbed the flickering golden light of the sconces, lending an almost surreal depth to the chamber, where every movement seemed swallowed by the void.

Her eyes, sharp and knowing, studied the rolled parchment on the polished surface of the black stone table beside her. A simple set of coordinates. A warning. A challenge. The scent of sealing wax still lingered in the air, though no ordinary courier had delivered this summons. The crimson-clad sentinels had come and gone, leaving behind no trace but their purpose.

"Serina Calis" Serina murmured, rolling the name on her tongue as if savoring an exotic flavor. The whispers of the Dark Side had long since abandoned their subtlety—her name was spoken in hushed reverence and envious fear among those who still clung to their old masters. She had broken free of the chains of the Jedi, yet refused to bow before the Sith. And now, it seemed, one of the darkest had taken notice.

She swirled the wine in her glass, watching the way the liquid clung to the rim before sliding back down like a slow-moving tide. A lesser being would have taken this as a summons, a call to bend knee and swear fealty. But Serina was no lesser being. She was a seeker, an orchestrator of fate, one who would carve her own path into the bones of history.

Her lips curved into a knowing smirk. "You have been chosen." How quaint. How delightfully arrogant.

Rising gracefully, she strode toward the towering map display dominating the far wall of her chamber, its hololithic projection casting a ghostly glow against the darkness. She keyed in the coordinates, watching as a sector unfamiliar to her flickered into view. A world of endless storms. A fitting backdrop for this meeting of minds.

For a brief moment, Serina simply stood there, considering. The invitation was clear—come alone. That, at least, was amusing. This Darth Nythera sought to impose limitations, as if fear or caution would shape Serina's decision. As if she did not already exist in a realm where trust was an illusion, where survival was dictated by will alone.

She exhaled softly, placing her glass back onto the table with a delicate clink. Then, she turned to the shadows of her chamber, where unseen figures lurked in silent attendance.

"Prepare my ship." Her voice was smooth, unhurried, yet commanding. "But I leave alone."

A pause. The unseen figures did not question, but she could sense their unease. They had sworn themselves to her, the Circle of Ten, her chosen few—yet for this, they would not accompany her. That was the demand. That was the test.

As she moved toward the exit of her sanctum, the wine left forgotten, her mind turned not to fear, nor even caution, but anticipation. There was always something to gain, even in meetings of supposed equals.

And if this Darth Nythera believed she was summoning a mere student, let her.

 

[Nyxira Valis]

Unknown Regions

The storm howled through the blackened spires of the fortress, its endless fury cascading in sheets of rain that pounded the landing pad below. Jagged forks of lightning split the sky, illuminating the towering citadel in bursts of brilliant, crackling light before plunging it once more into the abyss of darkness. The very air vibrated with raw energy, thick with the power that had shaped this world into a relentless storm-torn wasteland.

And in the center of it all, Darth Nythera stood waiting.

The rain rolled off her dark cloak in rivulets, soaking the fabric as the storm lashed against her like a living thing. Yet she remained unmoved, unshaken. Beneath the shadow of her hood, long strands of raven hair clung to her pale skin, shifting slightly in the wind. The storm was hers, its rage her own. And her violet eyes, glowing with an unnatural brilliance, were fixed upon the sky — waiting.

She had felt Serina Calis long before she arrived.

The weight of her presence rippled through the Force, an echo of power unchained, a melody of defiance and ambition. A Padawan who had stepped beyond the fragile ideals of the Jedi, yet not so blind as to fall shackled beneath the Sith. A seeker, like herself. That was why she had called her here.

The gates of the fortress remained closed.

This meeting would not take place within the safety of her halls. Not yet. Not until Serina had taken her first step onto the storm-forged world that belonged to Nyxira alone.

Behind her, crimson-clad sentinels stood at attention, their armor gleaming even beneath the storm's relentless assault. Silent. Ready. Their weapons remained at their sides, but their presence was unmistakable — Serina was a guest, but one who would be met with caution.

The distant roar of a ship reached her ears, cutting through the wind and rain. She was here.

Nyxira's smirk was slight, but sharp, a glimmer of satisfaction passing through her expression as she exhaled softly. The storm had brought her what she sought. Now, it was time to see if Serina Calis was truly worthy of the invitation.

Serina Calis ​

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Rakata Prime, Unknown Location
Tag: Nyxira Valis ​

The shuttle's ramp descended with a hiss, steam curling through the rain as Serina Calis stepped forward, unhurried, into the storm's embrace. The downpour struck her in torrents, drenching the folds of her dark cloak, yet she carried herself as though untouched by the elements. Each step was measured, each movement deliberate, her presence an extension of the Force itself—a current of power, restrained but undeniable.

Her golden hair, slick with rain, clung to her skin in damp strands, framing a face adorned with amusement rather than reverence. The storm howled around her, but she did not flinch. Instead, she lifted her chin, eyes locking onto Darth Nythera's with a slow, knowing smile.

Serina halted a few paces from the Sith, just close enough for the distance between them to feel like a challenge left unspoken. Her gaze flickered to the crimson-clad sentinels for but a heartbeat before returning to Nythera, unconcerned, unimpressed.

She exhaled, lips curving. Then, finally, she spoke—her voice low, rich, dripping with an indulgent amusement that hinted at something far sharper beneath.

"Quite the welcome."

She let the words hang between them, studying the Sith with a gaze that carried the weight of silent understanding. Respect, but never submission. A careful game played between those who walked the same treacherous path.

The storm raged on.

 

[Nyxira Valis]

Unknown Regions

The storm raged on, lightning carving jagged scars through the blackened sky, but Nyxira remained still as Serina stepped forth into the storm's fury. Unshaken. Unbowed. The Sith Lord's violet eyes gleamed through the darkness as she met Serina's gaze, taking in the deliberate movements, the amusement in her expression, the confidence woven into her very presence.

Yes. This one was exactly as the whispers had described.

The silence between them stretched, the howling winds their only witness. Then, finally, Nyxira spoke, her voice smooth as the night, laced with quiet power.

"Welcome, Serina Calis."

She did not bow. She did not offer pleasantries. There was no need for such things here. Instead, she tilted her head ever so slightly, studying the golden-haired woman before her. Intrigue flickered in her sharp gaze.

"We have much to discuss."

With a turn, she strode toward the fortress's entrance, her cloak trailing behind her, the storm peeling away as if the darkness itself obeyed her will. The massive blackened doors groaned open at her approach, parting to reveal the shadows within.

"Come."

No invitation. A simple command.

The moment Serina stepped inside, the great doors shut behind them, sealing away the relentless storm. The transition was immediate — from chaos to eerie stillness. The dimly lit corridors stretched before them, their path illuminated by the flickering glow of sconces lining the walls. The crimson-armored sentinels did not follow. They were alone now.

Nyxira walked in measured strides, her boots clicking softly against the cold stone floors. She did not speak as they traversed the winding halls, the silence between them thick with unspoken meaning. A test, perhaps. A game played between two who understood the weight of power.

At last, they arrived.

A chamber, vast yet intimate. The flickering warmth of sconces lined the walls, casting deep shadows in the corners of the room. A long obsidian table dominated the center, upon which sat a delicate tea set, steam curling into the air. Opposite each other, two chairs, positioned not as adversaries, but equals.

Nyxira strode forward, at last lowering her hood.

Long raven hair spilled freely over her shoulders, its dark strands catching the firelight in waves of midnight silk. Her violet eyes — vibrant, unnatural — glowed in the dim room, piercing and unreadable as they fixed on Serina.

She gestured toward the table.

"Sit."

A pause. Then, as she reached for her own cup, her voice carried a note of quiet amusement.

"I have heard much about you."

Serina Calis ​

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Rakata Prime, Unknown Location
Tag: Nyxira Valis ​

Serina moved with the languid grace of a serpent, her steps slow, deliberate, unhurried as she crossed the threshold into Nyxira's domain. The heavy doors sealed behind her with an ominous finality, but if the act was meant to intimidate, it failed spectacularly. She welcomed the isolation, the game unfolding between them. The air was thick with power, with unspoken promises, with the tantalizing possibility of what was to come.

She followed in measured silence, her gaze flitting over the flickering sconces, the long corridors of obsidian and shadow. The fortress was a reflection of its master—imposing, dark, full of secrets waiting to be unraveled. How very... intimate.

By the time they entered the chamber, her smirk had deepened, her amusement settling in the slight tilt of her head. She watched as Nyxira lowered her hood, taking in the spill of raven-dark hair, the piercing glow of those unnatural violet eyes. Beautiful. Powerful. Dangerous. A fascinating combination.

And, most importantly, a challenge.

Serina stepped forward, her cloak parting as she lowered herself into the chair with languid ease, crossing one leg over the other with an air of indulgence. She reached for the delicate cup, lifting it with a slow, deliberate motion, letting the steam coil against her lips before she took a measured sip.

At last, she met Nyxira's gaze, her own blue eyes gleaming with something wicked beneath their surface.

"Oh?" A breathy hum, laced with intrigue, with pleasure at the weight of those words. She exhaled softly, setting her cup down with the faintest clink. "And tell me, Lord Nyxira... what is it you've heard?"

She leaned in slightly, the movement subtle yet calculated, the air between them shrinking by mere inches. Her voice, when she spoke again, dripped with the promise of something more, something dangerous, something intoxicating.

"Did they whisper of my hunger?" A slow smirk. "My insatiable curiosity?"

A pause, just long enough for the weight of the words to settle. She traced the rim of her cup with a single finger, a lazy, absent gesture, her gaze never leaving Nyxira's.

"Or did they warn you... that once I set my sights on something, I do not let go?"

 

[Nyxira Valis]

Unknown Regions

Nyxira studied Serina with the slow patience of a predator, her violet gaze flickering in the dim light like distant embers. She watched the way Serina moved — deliberate, indulgent, every shift of her posture an unspoken statement. Not submission. Not defiance. Something else. A game played between equals, wrapped in power, draped in intrigue.

Serina's words curled between them like smoke, wrapping around the space they shared, weighted with promise, with warning, with something wicked and unrestrained. And yet, Nyxira did not recoil. She did not yield. She only smiled.

"The whispers spoke of your return."

Her voice was smooth, deliberate, rich with knowing. She took a slow sip of her own tea, unhurried, letting the warmth settle against her lips before she lowered the cup.

"Of how you fell… and how you rose again." She let the words linger, a slow hum in the air between them. "Of the Padawan who did not crumble, but evolved."

Her smirk deepened, a glint of something dark flickering behind her gaze. Yes, she had heard much. Of the power that still coiled within Serina like a serpent waiting to strike, of the ambitions that stretched beyond the fragile ideals she once clung to.

She leaned forward slightly, mirroring Serina's movement, shrinking the space between them by mere inches. The storm outside raged on, but here, within the candlelit chamber, a different storm brewed.

"But more than that, they spoke of your potential."

A pause. A flicker of something dangerous behind those glowing violet eyes.

"Untapped. Waiting to be unleashed." She set her cup down, the faintest clink breaking the silence, and tilted her head just so, raven hair spilling like ink over one shoulder.

"I have no interest in warnings, Serina." A soft chuckle, dark and knowing. "I am not one to be frightened away by hunger."

Her gaze sharpened, piercing through the dim candlelight between them.

"I am here to feed it." She let the weight of the words settle, her smirk curling at the edges. "To shape it into something greater."

Serina Calis ​

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: ???, Unknown Location
Tag: Nyxira Valis ​

Serina watched Nyxira with an intensity that bordered on reverence, though it was laced with something far more dangerous. There was no hesitation in her gaze, no wavering of the game she played, but for the first time in a long while, she felt a thrill that went beyond mere amusement. A rare, delicious thing—finding someone who did not shy away, who did not wither beneath her presence, but instead pressed forward, matched her step for step.

How intoxicating.

Her lips parted on a slow exhale, her smirk deepening into something more genuine, though no less wicked. Her fingers traced the curve of her cup, idle, thoughtful, as she let Nyxira's words settle around them. The Sith was no simpering fool, no trembling acolyte hoping for favor. She understood hunger. She understood power. She understood her.

Serina let the silence stretch just a moment longer, savoring it. Then, at last, she tilted her head, golden hair spilling over one shoulder, her smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Mm…" A soft, thoughtful sound. "How refreshing."

She lifted the cup again, taking a slow sip, watching Nyxira over the rim with sharp, knowing eyes. When she set it down, she leaned forward ever so slightly, mirroring the way Nyxira had done moments before. The candlelight flickered between them, catching the glint of something unchained in Serina's gaze.

"You see clearly," she mused, voice low, indulgent, as though tasting something exquisite on her tongue. "Most do not." Her gaze dipped, tracing the angles of Nyxira's face, the sharp curve of her jaw, before lifting once more. "They fear what they do not understand. What they cannot control."

Her smile widened, slow and deliberate. "But you… you do not fear, do you?" A quiet chuckle, dark and silken. "You invite it. You welcome it." She tapped a single finger against the rim of her cup, gaze narrowing in interest.

"And now… here we are. Together." She let the word roll from her lips, languid, savoring the taste of it. "How fortunate." A slow exhale, her amusement curling at the edges of her voice. "I knew I would like you."

Another pause, another shift of weight, another inch erased between them. Her smirk turned into something quieter, something sharper. "But tell me, Nyxira…" she murmured, voice soft, almost teasing, but laced with something undeniable beneath. "What is it you truly want from me?"

Not a challenge. Not a dismissal. A test. A curiosity. An invitation.

 

[Nyxira Valis]

Unknown Regions

Nyxira’s smirk did not falter, but there was a shift in the air between them — subtle, sharp, like a blade pressed lightly against the skin. Serina was comfortable here, indulging in the game, savoring the moment like a fine wine. Too comfortable.

The storm outside howled, the wind lashing against the fortress walls, but within the dimly lit chamber, a different kind of tension crackled in the silence. One of power, of expectation, of something yet unspoken.

Nyxira exhaled softly, her violet eyes gleaming with something unreadable, something dangerous. She did not answer Serina's question immediately. Instead, she let the silence stretch between them, unbroken, save for the distant rumble of thunder. She leaned back in her chair, tilting her head slightly as if considering the woman before her.

Then, slowly, deliberately, she smiled.

"You presume much, Serina."

Her voice was smooth, but beneath the velvet was steel.

"You assume that I have already decided what I want from you." A pause, her gaze flickering with something sharp, assessing. "That I have already deemed you worthy of such things."

A challenge. Not overt, not cruel, but pointed.

She lifted her drink once more, took a measured sip, and then placed it down with a deliberate motion. Her fingers traced the rim of the cup, much like Serina had done moments ago, but there was no idle amusement in the gesture. It was a message. A reminder.

Comfort could be dangerous.

"You see, so many Sith — so many with potential, who call themselves powerful — cling to the idea of eternity." Her tone was contemplative now, her smirk lingering but tempered by something deeper. "They waste their strength chasing illusions of immortality, of eternal dominion. A pathetic pursuit."

Her gaze flickered back to Serina, sharper now, more intent.

"True power is not in life alone." A slow, deliberate pause. "It is in legacy."

She leaned forward, just slightly, her violet gaze locking onto Serina’s own with quiet intensity.

"I do not seek to rule forever." A dark chuckle, low, edged with something knowing. "That is a fool’s ambition. What I seek — what I will create — is a storm that does not end when I fall. A power that endures through those who are worthy enough to wield it."

Her fingers drummed once against the black stone table before she continued.

"You could be one of them."

Not a promise. A possibility. A test not yet passed.

"You are no Jedi. No broken Sith, clinging to the ghosts of old masters. You rise, you evolve, you seek." Her voice was softer now, though no less powerful. "But have you been tested for this purpose? Are you worthy of my vision?"

She sat back once more, watching Serina with the same quiet intensity, waiting.

"You have potential, but I will test and challenge you for the path I envision."

Serina Calis ​

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: ???, Unknown Location
Tag: Nyxira Valis ​

Serina let the silence stretch, savoring it like the last sip of a rare vintage, the tension between them thick, charged, almost electric. The flickering candlelight danced across her face, catching the gleam of her eyes as she studied Nyxira, taking her measure in turn. The words spoken were not idle flattery, nor empty threats—they carried weight. Depth. Power.

And Serina relished it.

Her lips parted, exhaling softly, her smirk curling into something quieter, something dangerous. A test, was it? A challenge to see if she was worthy? How delightful. How utterly thrilling.

She lifted her glass again, not rushing, not responding too quickly. She let the storm outside fill the silence, the steady rhythm of rain against stone, the distant echo of thunder. Then, with a deliberate grace, she took a sip. Slow. Measured. Letting the taste linger on her tongue before finally setting the glass down with a quiet clink.

"You speak of legacy," she murmured, voice low, indulgent, almost lazy—but there was steel beneath the silk. "Of a storm that will outlast you. Endure through those who prove themselves worthy of it."

She tilted her head ever so slightly, golden strands shifting against her shoulder, her blue gaze gleaming with something unreadable.

"I find that... intoxicating."

Her fingers idly traced the rim of her cup, echoing Nyxira's motion from before, but where the Sith Lord's touch had been precise, deliberate, Serina's was slower, lingering, as if savoring the moment.

"But tell me, Nyxira," she continued, leaning forward just a fraction, her voice dipping into something softer, something wicked. "How do you measure worth?"

A pause. A flicker of something unchained in her gaze.

"Pain?" Her smirk deepened. "Sacrifice? Or is it simply the will to take what is offered... and claim it as one's own?"

She let the words settle between them, an invitation wrapped in quiet defiance.

"You say you will test me. Challenge me." A soft chuckle, breathy, indulgent. "Good."

Another pause, another shift forward, another inch erased between them.

"But do not mistake me for a trembling acolyte, eager to prove my worth at your feet." Her voice was velvet, but there was a blade hidden within it. "I choose my trials. I embrace the fire, but only because I will it."

Her smirk widened just slightly, a hint of mischief playing at the edges.

"You will challenge me, Nyxira," she murmured, voice dropping into something dark, something sweet. "And in turn... I hope I will challenge you."

A slow exhale, her amusement curling like smoke in the air between them.

"Now..." she purred, leaning back in her chair with the same indulgent ease as before. "What should I refer to you as?"

 

[Nyxira Valis]

Unknown Regions

Nyxira did not waver.

The storm outside raged, thunder rolling in deep tremors that echoed through the stone halls of the fortress, yet within the candlelit chamber, a different kind of storm was taking shape. One of power, of will, of two forces poised on the edge of something greater.

Serina played the game well. She was deliberate, indulgent, teasing the edges of defiance without yet crossing the line. She savored each moment, each word, as if tasting the richness of a fine wine. And Nyxira allowed it — for now. But then came the words that sought to shift the balance.

"But do not mistake me for a trembling acolyte, eager to prove my worth at your feet. I choose my trials. I embrace the fire, but only because I will it."

A test of her own. A declaration. A boundary.

Nyxira exhaled softly, not in frustration, but in quiet amusement. Her smirk did not fade, but the air between them shifted, darkened, sharpened. The candlelight flickered violently, as though the storm outside had momentarily reached its fingers into the room itself.

She did not move. She did not lash out. She did not need to.

"Understand something, Serina."

Her voice remained smooth, unwavering, but beneath it, there was a weight — a power that pressed upon the space between them. Not anger. Not cruelty. Simply certainty. "You are not in control here." The words settled, not as a threat, but as an undeniable truth.

Her violet eyes burned like twin embers in the dim light as she tilted her head, studying the golden-haired woman with quiet intensity.

"Not yet." She let the words linger before she leaned forward ever so slightly, closing the space between them just enough to remind Serina of exactly where she stood.

"You have potential. You have fire. That is why you are here." Nyxira's voice dipped, almost indulgent, yet there was steel beneath it. "But until the day your training is complete, until you have proven you are more than mere ambition wrapped in defiance, you will not dictate the terms of this arrangement." Her smirk returned, dark, knowing.

"If you forget that..." A slight tilt of her head, raven hair spilling over one shoulder as she let the sentence hang in the air, her meaning clear.

She would cast her aside.

Nyxira leaned back, her presence withdrawing just enough to let the weight of her words settle. "If you truly believe in what we are building here, if you understand the path before you, then you will name me as I am. Your Master."

Serina Calis ​

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: ???, Unknown Location
Tag: Nyxira Valis ​

Serina's smirk did not fade, but for the first time, something flickered beneath it. A shift—small, barely perceptible, but present nonetheless. Nyxira's words carried weight, pressing against her like an unseen hand, a reminder, a lesson. She had spent years weaving her own web, drawing others in, letting them believe they held power while she coiled around them unseen. But here… now…

She was the one being drawn in.

The storm outside howled, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the obsidian walls, but Serina's gaze remained locked onto Nyxira's. The pulse of power between them had changed—deepened. A boundary had been set, not cruelly, not even unkindly, but with a certainty that made the air thrum.

Serina exhaled softly, her fingers still idly tracing the rim of her cup.

Then, slowly, deliberately, she leaned forward, close enough that only a breath of space remained between them. Her blue eyes, sharp and knowing, gleamed in the dim glow.

"You do love saying that, don't you?" Her voice was a purr, rich with something amused, something indulgent—something yielding, but only just.

A pause. A smirk.

"Not yet." She let the words roll off her tongue, as if tasting them, letting them settle, before tilting her head slightly. "You want me to say it, to name you as you are. To acknowledge my place."

Another pause. This one longer. She let it stretch between them, teasing, testing, before she exhaled a soft, silken sigh, her smirk curving into something more languid, something darkly pleased.

"Very well."

She sat back, her movements slow, fluid, measured, as if savoring the moment, offering something precious, even if it had already been taken.

"My Master."

The words came effortlessly, smoothly, with no bitterness behind them—only the smallest, deliberate emphasis, a subtle reminder that she was choosing this. That she understood the power between them, the game they played, the path that stretched before them.

Her smirk deepened, eyes half-lidded as she studied Nyxira's face, watching, waiting.

"And tell me, my Master…" She let the title linger, rolling it across her tongue with something dangerously close to delight, before tilting her head slightly, her voice dipping into something wicked. "How do you wish to… begin?"

 

[Nyxira Valis]

Unknown Regions

Nyxira did not react immediately. She let the silence stretch between them, watching Serina with the same unshaken intensity that had marked every exchange thus far. The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across the chamber, illuminating the wicked curve of Serina's smirk, the deliberate way she spoke, how she savored the moment as though it were a delicacy meant to be tasted rather than simply consumed.

Amusement tugged faintly at Nyxira's lips.

There it was — that careful balancing act between surrender and defiance, between yielding and control. A game played with precision. Nyxira allowed the title to settle before she leaned back slightly in her chair, folding one leg over the other, watching Serina as one might admire a blade just before testing its edge.

"Good," she murmured, satisfaction lacing her voice like dark honey. "Then let us begin."

But not with training. Not yet.

Before power could be refined, before Serina's potential could be honed into something worthy of shaping the galaxy, Nyxira needed something far more valuable. Information. She reached for her cup, fingers brushing the delicate porcelain as she lifted it, taking a slow sip before speaking again.

"Before we take our next steps, I need to know exactly where you stand." Her violet eyes gleamed, sharp and knowing.

"You were once Jedi. Now you stand apart, unbound, forging your own path. But tell me, Serina… what position do you hold within the Sith? And what ties linger within the Jedi?" A pause, a flicker of curiosity beneath the question. "Who do you call an ally?" Nyxira set her cup down with a faint clink, the sound measured, deliberate. "Who are your enemies?"

And then, a final question — one that carried the weight of true consequence.

"Who might stand in our way? In our way."

Serina Calis ​

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: ???, Unknown Location
Tag: Nyxira Valis ​

Serina let the question hang between them, savoring it the way she savored all things—slowly, deliberately, with a knowing smirk that hinted at the pleasure she took in being the subject of such scrutiny. The storm beyond the fortress raged on, but within these walls, the air between them was charged with something else—something heavier, sharper.

She exhaled softly, fingers trailing the stem of her glass before she finally lifted it, taking a slow sip. A pause. A moment drawn out just long enough to remind Nyxira that she could answer swiftly, but chose not to.

And then, at last, she spoke.

"You assume I still hold a place within the Sith."

Her voice was smooth, indulgent, wrapped in amusement, but beneath it lay something unspoken, something pointed.

"The truth?" She tilted her head slightly, the flickering light catching in the icy blue of her eyes. "The Sith and I… we are familiar lovers. I know their hunger well, I know the weight of their desires. But true power does not belong to the Order—it belongs to those who are willing to take it. The Lords play their games, they war, they scheme, they slaughter each other for thrones that will crumble beneath them."

Another slow sip of wine. Another smirk, deepening just slightly.

"I do not need their permission to wield what I have claimed."

She set the glass down with a soft clink, mirroring Nyxira's earlier motion, watching her through half-lidded eyes, enjoying the subtle dance of power between them.

"As for the Jedi?" A soft chuckle, dark, velvety. "I doubt they whisper my name with anything but disdain, if they speak it at all. But there are still those who remember me." She ran a single finger along the table's edge, idle, contemplative. "A few who might hesitate to strike me down outright. A few who might… wonder." Her smirk curled just slightly at the edges. "Doubt is such a delicious thing, don't you think? A single crack in the foundation of certainty, and suddenly..." She made a soft motion with her hand, a graceful snap, as if shattering something invisible between them.

Then, she leaned forward, resting her chin lightly against her fingers, her gaze locking onto Nyxira's with quiet intensity.

"Allies? Enemies?" Another pause. "The difference between them is so... fluid. It changes with need, with circumstance, with opportunity."

A slow exhale.

"But who might stand in our way?"

For the first time, something serious flickered beneath her amusement, something cold and calculating.

"The Jedi Order still clings to its fragile ideals, unwilling to see the galaxy as it truly is. The Sith Lords will move against anything they cannot control, especially if they suspect we are something they cannot manipulate." Her smirk returned, though now it was sharper. "But the true threats?"

She let the moment stretch, her gaze darkening.

"Those who do not play the game at all. The ones who remain in the shadows, watching, waiting. The ones who pull the strings without drawing their blades. They are the ones who concern me."

"And those who know of my involvement in the Susefvi rebellion."

She leaned back once more, her smirk returning to something smooth, something indulgent.

"But that is what makes all of this so exciting, isn't it, Master?" The title slipped from her tongue with something almost playful, almost sinister. "We are not just players on the board. We are the ones who will redraw it."

 

[Nyxira Valis]

Unknown Regions

Nyxira listened in silence, the only movement the slow, deliberate way her fingers traced the rim of her cup. She let Serina speak, let her savor her own words, let her indulge in the game they played. It was an art, after all — drawing out the answer while ensuring it remained laced with intrigue, with amusement, with that same serpentine grace Serina wielded so well.

But beneath the indulgence, there was something far more valuable. Truth. When Serina finally leaned back, her voice curling around the word Master like something both playful and sharp-edged, Nyxira smiled. Faint. Amused.

She set her cup down, the sound a soft clink against the obsidian table, before folding her hands in her lap. The candlelight flickered in the violet depths of her eyes, casting a faint glow that made them seem almost otherworldly. "You and I are alike in many ways, Serina." Her voice was smooth, edged with quiet certainty. "I do not bow to the Sith Order, nor do I claim loyalty to their crumbling hierarchy. But I do not dismiss them outright."

She tilted her head slightly, studying Serina the way one might a particularly promising blade before testing its sharpness.

"They are... useful."

A pause. A shift of weight as she leaned forward, closing the space between them once more, not in challenge, but in quiet understanding. "For now, I need them. Their infighting. Their ambition. Their resources. I have no desire to claim the ruins of their empire for myself — but I will use them to lay the foundation for something greater."

Her smirk deepened, sharp as the edge of a blade. "And then, when they are no longer of use?" She exhaled softly, almost lazily. "They will be discarded." She let that settle before continuing, her voice dipping into something quieter, more measured.

"As for the Jedi…" The way she said it carried something colder, something far more dangerous. "They are an obstacle. They will always be an obstacle. But even obstacles can be shaped. Bent. Corrupted." Her gaze lingered on Serina, knowing. She had been one of them, once. She understood. "The Jedi Order as a whole means nothing to me," Nyxira admitted, her tone as smooth as silk over steel. "But one does." She did not say his name. Not yet. But the weight in her voice, the subtle shift in the air between them, made it clear—whoever he was, he mattered.

She leaned back, satisfied for now. "For my plans to work, I need both the Sith and the Jedi," she mused, tilting her head slightly, as if already envisioning the pieces as they moved into place. "One for power. One for knowledge."

"I will need your help to play both sides."

Serina Calis ​

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: ???, Unknown Location
Tag: Nyxira Valis ​

Serina's smirk curled at the edges, slow and knowing, as she watched Nyxira speak. The careful deliberation of her words, the measured cadence of her voice—it was intoxicating in its own way. Sharp. Purposeful. Not a wasted syllable, not a moment of doubt.

Serina enjoyed watching people play at power. She enjoyed the way they postured, the way they believed themselves untouchable, only for their own ambition to undo them. But Nyxira?

Nyxira was different.

The Sith and the Jedi, both used as tools in a grander design. Not conquered. Not destroyed. Manipulated. Serina let the idea settle over her like a fine cloak, feeling its weight, its potential. The vision Nyxira wove was not one of simple domination, but of reshaping the very fabric of power itself.

And Serina thrived in the art of shaping things.

She exhaled softly, reaching once more for her wine, taking an unhurried sip, letting the taste linger before setting it down with careful precision. The silence stretched between them, but it was a comfortable silence, one that allowed the weight of Nyxira's words to settle, to take root.

Then, with a slow tilt of her head, Serina leaned forward, just enough that the space between them was charged, her voice a silk thread woven with dark amusement.

"Ah, so you do need me, Master."

The words were teasing, licentious, but the weight beneath them was very real.

Her fingers drummed lightly against the table, thoughtful, measured. "To play both sides… to pull the strings beneath their notice… to whisper where others shout." A pause. A smile that was half invitation, half promise. "To corrupt where others conquer."

She leaned back, exhaling through her nose, lips pressing together in amusement before parting once more. "And here I thought I was the only one in this galaxy who preferred subtlety to brute force."

Her blue gaze flickered, studying Nyxira the way one might study the surface of still water, knowing the depths concealed something far more dangerous beneath.

"The Sith are predictable," she mused, tilting her head slightly. "They will bend as long as they believe there is something to gain. The Jedi, though…" A low, indulgent chuckle left her lips, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "They are so much more fun to break."

She let that linger, the weight of her own meaning clear. She had been one of them, once. She knew how fragile the foundation of their righteousness truly was. It was only ever one whisper, one doubt, one need away from collapse.

Her smirk softened, something almost genuine slipping beneath it—curiosity, intrigue, the hunger to know more.

"But tell me, my Master." She purred the title like a lover's secret, like something delicious to taste. "Who is it among them that matters to you?"

A pause. A flicker of something unrestrained beneath the surface.

"And how, exactly, do you wish me to help you… shape them?"

 

[Nyxira Valis]

Unknown Regions

Nyxira let the silence stretch, allowing Serina to savor her own amusement, her own indulgence in the slow unraveling of this game between them. The way she leaned forward, how she purred the word Master like something meant to be tasted, the way she studied Nyxira as if she were still deciding what lay beneath the surface — it was all noted.

Serina played with fire. That much was clear. But she would soon learn that Nyxira was the storm itself. A faint smirk tugged at Nyxira's lips, but there was no amusement in her gaze. Only sharp calculation.

"I do not need you," she corrected smoothly, her voice silken but edged with steel. "I have chosen you." A subtle shift. A reminder. Serina was not indispensable. Not yet.

She let that settle before finally exhaling, reclining slightly, her fingers idly brushing the rim of her teacup. The candlelight flickered, caught in the violet depths of her eyes as she studied Serina with renewed intent. Her fingers tapped against the table, a quiet rhythm, as if weighing the next words carefully before speaking them.

"The Jedi who matters to my plans is Kahlil Noble." She did not watch Serina's reaction as she said the name, but she did not need to. The weight in her tone, the deliberate way she spoke it, carried more than just recognition — it carried meaning.

"But I do not need you to target him directly." A slow tilt of her head, a knowing look flickering in her eyes. "There are many ways to get his attention… but first, I need to know where he is beyond the Jedi Temples. What he does, where he moves. What matters to him outside of his Order."

And then, at last, Nyxira's smirk faded entirely.

"Fortunately," she continued, her voice dipping into something colder, something edged with bitter venom, "You have already crossed paths with someone close to him." She let the name hang in the air, as though it left an unpleasant taste in her mouth. "Valery Noble." A pause. A flicker of something unreadable in Nyxira's expression before she continued, her voice smooth, but the bitterness still there.

"You've faced her before, haven't you?"

It wasn't quite a question. She already knew the answer.

Serina Calis ​

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: ???, Unknown Location
Tag: Nyxira Valis ​

Serina's smirk did not falter, but there was something colder in her eyes now. Something that stirred beneath the surface, shifting like shadows given form. She let Nyxira's words settle over her, absorbing them in silence, savoring them the way one might savor a blade pressed just shy of the skin. Kahlil Noble. Valery Noble.

Ah, yes.

She leaned back, exhaling through her nose in something that could almost be mistaken for amusement, but there was no warmth in it. Only memory. Only pain.

"Faced her?" she murmured, tilting her head just slightly. The flickering light caught in the ice-blue depths of her gaze, and for a moment, there was something unreadable there. Something dark.

"No, Master." A pause. Then, softly, smoothly:

"She killed me."

The words were delivered without embellishment, without theatrics, but the weight behind them carried something far more potent than any dramatic flourish ever could.

She reached for her glass, fingers curling around the delicate stem, but this time, she did not sip. She only held it, feeling the weight of it in her hand, letting the silence stretch as memories bled into the present.

"Within the hallowed halls of the Jedi Temple itself." Her voice was silk wrapped around something jagged, something raw. "In the heart of their sanctum, beneath the gaze of their self-righteous Order. I was young then, and foolish. I thought I could test the limits of my ambition, stretch beyond what they were willing to allow."

A low, breathy chuckle, absent of humor. "I was right."

Her free hand lifted, pressing against her chest, right where a heart should have been. Right where her life should have been. And yet, beneath the fabric of her robes, beneath the perfect, unbroken skin, there was nothing.

Nothing but darkness.

"The blade went through me clean." She traced the curve of her wine glass idly, as if the memory of the saber piercing through her flesh was no more significant than a passing inconvenience. "I remember the pain. The light. The way my body collapsed—" Her fingers tightened around the glass, but she did not break it.

"And then I remember the darkness."

She lifted her gaze, locking onto Nyxira's, something cold slithering through the space between them. The room felt thicker, as if the very air trembled beneath something unseen.

"I should be dead." The words were almost a whisper. "I was dead. But something else had other plans."

The blackened essence that now resided in her place of a heart pulsed, though unseen, though unheard, like a whisper at the edge of perception.

"What remains of me is not what she struck down. What keeps me standing, what beats within this hollow shell, is something older than the Jedi, something they could never cleanse with their light."

A smirk returned to her lips, but this one was different. Darker. Colder.

"Valery Noble is the reason I became this. The reason I stand before you now, Master. The reason I know, with absolute certainty, that the Jedi are afraid of what they cannot kill."

A pause. A breath.

"And if she still haunts your plans, then perhaps it is time she learns that some things do not die so easily."

 

[Nyxira Valis]

Unknown Regions

Nyxira did not speak immediately.

She let Serina's words fill the space between them, heavy with the weight of something ancient, something beyond mere hatred or vengeance. This was not a wound that had simply scarred over. No — this was a wound that had become something else entirely. Her violet eyes gleamed in the candlelight, flickering with quiet understanding. This was pain. But more than that, it was power.

The storm outside howled as if in response.

"You are correct, Serina. The Jedi fear what they cannot kill. But more than that, they fear what they love." She leaned forward slightly, her smirk barely visible beneath the shifting candlelight. "Pain? Death? They are but trials to them. Proof of their righteousness. But love?" Her voice dipped into something softer, something darker. "That is where they break."

She watched Serina closely now, gauging every flicker of emotion in those cold, sharp eyes.

"You hate Valery Noble. That is good. Hate is powerful. But revenge alone is not enough. If you wish to truly destroy her, you must strike at the foundation of her strength. And there is nothing in this galaxy that will shatter her more than him."She let the meaning settle like a knife pressed just against the skin.

Her fingers tapped lightly against the obsidian table, deliberate, precise. "He is the key. Valery is strong — dangerous. But she is vulnerable in a way that no Sith, no Jedi, no warrior ever should be. She has something to lose." Nyxira's smirk sharpened.

"And once I have him, once my plans are in motion, I will help you kill her." There was no doubt. No hesitation. The words were spoken with absolute certainty.

But first — first, she needed Serina to be useful.

She leaned back, her expression unreadable, her gaze never wavering. "But before we carve her from the galaxy, we must draw him into our web. You know Valery better than most. You know how she thinks. How she moves. She will never let him fall easily."

Her violet eyes gleamed.

"So, let's begin with your training, shall we?"

Serina Calis ​

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: ???, Unknown Location
Tag: Nyxira Valis ​

Serina listened, her expression shifting only slightly as Nyxira spoke of Kahlil Noble, of striking at Valery where she was weakest. There was something cold in her gaze, something patient, but more importantly—something calculating. Nyxira had chosen her words carefully, weaving the promise of vengeance into something more… grand.

The mention of Kahlil, though? It meant nothing to her. Who he was did not matter. What he represented did.

She exhaled softly, her fingers curling lightly against the obsidian table, her smirk subdued but present. Amused, but not dismissive.

"With respect, my Master," she began, her voice smooth, indulgent, measured, "you speak of killing her as though it is the inevitable conclusion to this tale. But tell me—why kill something when you could break it instead?"

Her gaze lifted, sharp, gleaming in the flickering candlelight.

"Valery Noble is the Grandmaster. The Jedi look to her as a symbol of their strength, their unity, their unwavering faith. But symbols do not fall when their bodies perish." She leaned forward now, ever so slightly, a dark amusement curling at the edges of her lips. "No. Symbols fall when they are corrupted—when the light they so desperately cling to is turned against them."

She lifted her cup once more, but this time, she did not drink. She only held it, watching the way the liquid swirled within.

"You wish to take him—Kahlil. To twist the knife deeper. I understand that." A pause. Then, a slow, knowing smirk. "But imagine, Master… imagine if she fell not because of him, but with him. Imagine if her precious Jedi watched as she willingly turned away from them. Imagine if they saw her fall not in battle, but by choice."

A beat of silence. A slow exhale.

"That," she murmured, her voice a whisper edged in something dark, "is the kind of death no legacy recovers from."

She tilted her head, studying Nyxira for a long moment before finally setting the cup down.

"But of course, I do not question your plans, there would be some poetic pleasure in ending her," she added, smooth as silk, her smirk deepening ever so slightly. "Merely offering… perspective."

Her voice dipped lower now, indulgent, serpentine.

"You say we begin my training, my Master?" A pause. A wicked smile. "I am very much, excited."