Private Make the Shadows Dance.

[Serina Calis]

Location: Unknown Tomb, Korriban
Tag: Kali'ka ​

Ah… delicious.

Serina did not move as Kali'ka strode forward, her footsteps sharp and determined, cutting through the thick air of the chamber like the blade she would soon drive into the illusion before her. The weight of the moment was sublime, the culmination of all the tension, all the revelations, all the whispered truths that had been woven into the acolyte's very soul.

And now, at last, the final thread of her former self was about to be severed.

Serina simply watched, reveling in the scene before her, drinking in every shuddering breath, every tightening muscle, every flicker of doubt that had warred within the acolyte's heart before being drowned in the inevitable flood of hatred.

The moment the pike pierced the Jedi's chest, the illusion shuddered.

The false Cathar gasped, his golden eyes widening, disbelief written across his face as his body jerked, the plasma blade burning deep, searing through the flesh, the bone, the heart that had once beaten for her.

"Ka… lisha…"

A final, ragged breath.

And then—nothing.

The illusion flickered, his form distorting, his outline melting into the air like smoke before vanishing entirely.

Silence.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the hum of the still-ignited pike, the lingering energy of the kill hanging in the air like incense in a holy chamber. The acrid scent of scorched ozone filled the tomb, and Kali'ka's breath was rapid, her body alive with the rush of the act, with the violence, with the finality of what she had done.

And then—

"Mmmmm…"

The sound was indulgent, low and pleased, thick with honeyed delight, slithering into the silence like a serpent curling around its prey.

Serina moved, slow, deliberate, carnal in the way she approached the acolyte, every step filled with the weight of purpose, of inevitability.

"Do you feel it, Acolyte?"

Her voice was warm, dripping with pleasure, each word rolling off her tongue like molten gold, smooth, syrupy, wicked.

"That breaking inside of you? That shudder in your chest?"

She reached out, and this time, she did not tease, did not withhold.

Her gloved fingers pressed fully against Kali'ka's throat, not squeezing, not harming—just claiming, feeling the pulse beneath her fingertips, the thunder of the acolyte's heart still racing from the act, from the kill, from the truth she had just embraced.

"Ahhh… yes…"

A breathy exhale, savoring the moment, letting her grip linger just long enough to let Kali'ka feel it, to let the weight of it settle into her bones.

"You thought you were breaking free tonight, didn't you?"

A slow chuckle, dark, sensual, holy in its blasphemy.

"That you were shedding your chains, leaving behind the last of what bound you?"

Serina leaned closer, her breath hot against the acolyte's ear, her lips so close, brushing against nothing, but felt nonetheless.

"Oh, my dear, my sweet, sweet Acolyte… you have only chosen new chains."

A pause.

A beat of silence, charged, intimate, sacred.

"But this time…"

Her fingers tightened—just barely, just enough to make her feel it, to send that shiver of recognition through the girl's spine.

"You will love them."

A shuddering breath, a soft sigh, as though she were drinking in the moment, as though Kali'ka's very devotion was something tangible that Serina could run her tongue over, taste, savor.

"Look at you."

Her voice was softer now, reverent, almost adoring, yet undeniably sinful.

"No hesitation. No regret. No weakness."

She tilted Kali'ka's chin up with the same hand that had once rested against her throat, forcing her to meet the shadowed abyss of her unseen gaze.

"You are no lost little Jedi anymore, my dear. No abandoned wretch, no broken remnant of what they tried to mold you into."

A slow, indulgent sigh, and then—the final truth, breathed against her lips like a blessing.

"You are mine now."

Silence.

The words hung, thick and heavy, seeping into the very marrow of the acolyte's soul.

And then—Serina stepped away.

Again.

The absence. The void.

A lesson. A hunger. A command.

"Come, Acolyte."

Her voice was lighter now, but no less sultry, no less commanding.

Serina turned, moving toward the next chamber, her presence still looming, still felt, even as she put distance between them.

"You have done well tonight."

A slow glance over her shoulder, a glimpse of something daring, teasing, knowing beneath the hood.

"And now…"

A pause, her smile felt in the air.

"It is time for you to claim your reward."

And then, she was gone.

Moving deeper into the tomb.

Leaving Kali'ka with the weight of her words. With the ache in her chest.

And with no choice but to follow.

 

[Kali'ka]

Tag: Serina Calis
​

Behind the killing thrust of that lightsaber pike was more than lean corded muscle and a well aimed strike. Behind that blow was every memory of her past. Anger at the lies of the 'good times', and rage at the horrors of her betrayal. Every pain, every fear, every disappointment enervated the fibers of the acolyte's nerves, muscle and sinew. It all was thrust into that deadly weapon for more than a physical attack, with it was cast the breaking links of her former bondage.

Kali'ka watched indifferent as Taam gurgled her former name, then vanished like a mist. She had not cared to determine what exactly Taam was during the encounter. The apparation had served it's purpose.

The tattooed Kiffar felt more alive than ever. Her nostril inhaled, drinking in the clashing smells, the dank must of the ancient tomb, the hint of her own sweat, the stringent smell of the burning plasma blade. And at the edges of her mind, the aroma of the woman. Adrenaline coursed through her body, excitement and arousal dancing along her nerves. Profound pleasure rippled in her being at the chance to slay her former master, and knowing possibly a new one looked on. She could feel the stranger's eyes on her, and Kali'ka relished it.

The sikly mmm of the Mistress urged the acolyte to extinquish the humming blade, so she could drink in every word.

Kali'ka held still to receive the woman, without a flinch welcoming the gloved fingers around her throat in a claim of possession, the pads of the digits resting on her neck, feeling the rapid thrum of her thudding pulse. A wash of warmth flooded Kali's core, a shiver ran along her spine as she looked into the dark hood. She ached for the grip to squeeze a little harder.

Yes she felt it, the bonds severing, the past no longer a burden, but a fuel.

Then, that hidden face framed in flaxen waves drew closer. The acolyte's lips parted, as if she could taste, could devour the woman's breaths. More outline of the features within the cowl were visible, hinting at a loveliness.

Then the taunting and the cruel laugh. Those fingers did tighten, just enough to send more waves of pleasure through her being. Kali'ka gasped in rapture. There was the promise of new chains, chains that bound her to her mysterious mentor. Every word touched her, stroked her sinfully. The praise was intoxicating, and her chin lifted willingly to stare again into unseen eyes. Devotion was now firm, loyalty strong for a being she did not know. And Kali reveled.

Then the touch broke, the figure again retreated, leaving Kali empty and yearning once more. She turned, moved away, but over her shoulder was more praise, and the promise of reward. into the darkness of the next chamber the woman moved, Kali'ka, alive with scintilation, followed with tempered eagerness.

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Unknown Tomb, Korriban
Tag: Kali'ka ​

The tomb breathed around them.

As Serina strode deeper into its depths, the very walls seemed to shift with her presence, shadows stretching, torchlight flickering low in reverence, as if bowing to the darkness she carried with her.

Kali'ka followed—as she should.

Her steps were eager yet measured, controlled but alight with the thrill of the unknown. She was learning. Not just to obey, but to crave what came next.

Serina smiled.

Oh, how she had wanted this one. How perfectly she had taken to the cutting, the breaking, the remaking. But this was only the beginning.

"You have done well, my dear," Serina purred as they reached the heart of the chamber, the words drenched in indulgence, thick with satisfaction. "You have severed the last of your bindings, and in doing so, you have made yourself worthy of your first reward."

She turned, slow, precise, allowing the dim light to kiss the edges of her hood, revealing the barest glimpse of pale lips, the hint of a smirk beneath the shadowed veil.

The chamber before them was different from the others. Where before there had been brutality, now there was reverence. The stone walls were lined with ancient runes, their crimson light pulsing softly, humming with whispers of long-forgotten incantations.

And at the center—

A pedestal of dark stone, carved with twisting inscriptions, sat waiting. Upon it rested something small, something deceptively simple—a shard of black obsidian, etched with crimson veins, humming with a power that throbbed in the air like the slow, deliberate heartbeat of something alive.

Serina stepped closer, her gloved fingers tracing the runes along the pedestal, admiring the artifact before she lifted it from its resting place.

"This…" she mused, turning the shard between her fingers, watching the dim light catch on the kyberite slivers woven through its structure. "…is an Umbra Shard."

She held it up between them, letting the crimson veins pulse as if responding to her touch, as if aching to be held.

"A gift from those who came before us. A fragment of darkness, woven with shadow, bound to illusion."

Serina took a step forward, closing the space between them, holding the shard just above Kali'ka's waiting hands.

But she did not give it to her.

Not yet.

"It will not burn you, Acolyte. It will not harm you… unless you are too weak to wield it."

A slow, knowing smile.

"And you are not weak, are you?"

Serina tilted her head, watching Kali'ka with a grand intensity.

"You have tasted the power of pain. You have tasted the pleasure of breaking what once bound you. Now…"

She lowered the shard, but rather than placing it in Kali'ka's hand, she pressed it against her chest, right above the heart, letting the cold, smooth obsidian linger against her flesh.

"…now, you will taste the power of shadow."

A pause.

Serina let her touch linger, letting the cold pulse of the shard mix with the heat of her own body pressing it against Kali'ka's skin.

"Do you feel it?"

Her voice was barely a whisper, a breath, a caress against her ear.

"It will give you sight beyond sight. Let you weave illusions that will make the weak tremble, make the strong doubt what is real."

Her fingers drifted, sliding down slowly, deliberately, tracing the path of the shard as it settled into Kali'ka's waiting grasp.

"But it will demand something of you, my dear."

Serina stepped back, just enough to watch her now, just enough to let the space between them ache.

"It will consume you if you let it. The more you call upon it, the more the shadows will whisper to you, wrap around you, beckon you into their embrace."

A slow exhale.

"And if you are not strong enough to see where the illusion ends and reality begins…"

Serina let the words trail off, her hooded gaze piercing, letting the warning sink into the acolyte's bones.

Then—

A slow, wicked smile.

"…then you were never worthy to begin with."

The challenge was there, unspoken, taunting, a dare, a promise.

"Now…"

Serina gestured, the torches flaring, shadows stretching and writhing along the walls like living things.

"Are you ready to accept your new chains?"

 

[Kali'ka]

Tag: Serina Calis
​

The stranger strode deeper into the archaic tomb, the ancient structure and the dynamic of light and shadow seeming to react as she passed through the hall to the next destination. The sensation of the Dark Side licked at Kali'ka's being stronger with each chamber they had penetrated. Whether it was the power of the the place itself, or if that strong darkness emanated from the mysterious hooded woman, The acolyte could not discern. But it coursed through her, stroking every nerve, heightening every sense, feeding on the pride she felt in the praise, arousal and promise that all came from the Mistress.

Anticipation, excitement, curiosity and the delicious tickle of fear played upon the acolyte as they entered the next room. At its threshold, the stranger turned, painting her follower's hearing with more luscious praise. The tantalizing hint of plush pale lips caught the dim torchlight as she turned, causing Kali'ka to lick her own.

Dark eyes studied the room beyond. Where the other chambers were testaments to brutality and pain, this one hummed with a sacred mystery. The most interest was cast to the pedestal and the object upon it., gossy black obsidian riddled with deep red lines. Its presence throbbed within her. An item with power.

A reward indeed. Kali listened as the stranger spoke of the shard's nature, her hands ready to accept it, her gaze fixed on the curious, captivating shard. The woman questioned the acolyte, a rhetorical inquiry regarding Kali'ka's worthiness to receive the gift, pausing as if to seek affirmation. The Kiffar's tattooed gaze lifted to look into the hood's shadow. Her head tilted down slightly, the corner of her mouth twitched. She had proven herself, she was not weak, not any longer. She had found renewed strength even as she bent her will to the armored figure.

It would be hers. Kali'ka new she was worthy, that it would not harm her. But it was not given to her, at least into her hands. A soft gasp escaped as the woman leaned closer and pressed the shard against the acolyte's chest. It was cold against her bared flesh there, that metaphysical thrum resonating through her body. The subtle throbs took on the pattern of a heart's pulse...hers.

Did she feel it? "Hmm..." Kali'ka hummed in response, letting her lids close softly for a moment as she focused on the shard's energy. Promise of its power was revealed on the soft allure of the woman's seducitve tone as it was slowly lowered. Kali'ka's waiting hands accepted the shard. Then, an admonishment was given. There was always a price for power. Kali would accept it.

Again, Kali'ka felt a woeful void as the woman stepped away, her warmth, her whisper, her presence taken from the learner again.

The price was revealed, a danger of losing one's self, a loss of discernment between illusion and reality, a succumbing to shadow. Even in the wake of this sober admonishment, Kali'ka was elated, scintillating with all that had transpired since she followed the woman she called Mistress, but she was also no fool, and heeded the warning with intent to remember it's challenge.

With the precious gift in Kali's hand, a final question was posed by the hooded darksider. The room responded, emphasizing the significance of the moment, choice posed to the the acolyte. Kali'ka considered it for only a breath, as she felt the pulse of the Umbra Shard matched to her own heartbeat, how her being had craved the stranger every moment she had been in the presence of the captivating enigma.

Her spine straightened even more, her jaw set, her dark eyes peering fiercely into the dark hood. A firm tone sounded from her lips, words both submissive but confident.

"I am yours, my Mistress."

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Unknown Tomb, Korriban
Tag: Kali'ka ​

Ah…

Serina closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, savoring the words as they left Kali'ka's lips.

"I am yours, my Mistress."

There it was.

Submission. Devotion. Truth.

No hesitation. No doubt. No flicker of resistance.

The acolyte was bound now—not by chains, not by fear, but by something far deeper, far sweeter.

Serina exhaled, long and slow, letting the moment breathe, letting the weight of Kali'ka's declaration settle into the very bones of the tomb.

Then—she moved.

Slow. Deliberate. Measured.

Each step was purposeful, an extension of the control she wielded—not just over herself, but over the very air around her, over the acolyte's anticipation, over the delicate tension that trembled between them like the finest silk thread.

No words. Not yet.

She let the silence stretch, let it coil like a serpent winding tighter around the moment, pulling, drawing, commanding attention.

And then—

Her hand lifted.

Gloved fingers rose, slow and steady, to the edge of her hood.

With an exquisite patience, she drew it back.

The shadows that had veiled her face for so long peeled away, revealing elegance sharpened to a blade's edge, beauty wrapped in absolute control.

Golden blonde hair spilled in soft waves, catching the flickering torchlight in strands of honeyed gold, cascading down past her shoulders, framing the high angles of her face. The warm glow did nothing to soften her expression—it only enhanced the predatory grace, the silent menace that lurked beneath her piercing blue gaze.

Those eyes.

Cold. Calculating. Assessing.

Not of amusement. Not of kindness. But of ownership.

Her lips, plush and flawless, parted ever so slightly—not in a smile, not quite—but in something infinitely more dangerous.

A smirk of quiet superiority.

A look that said I have won.

And she had.

She had broken Kali'ka from the inside out, piece by piece, guiding her hands as she shattered herself, only to place each fragment into Serina's waiting palm.

The dark side pulsed around her, wrapping her in an aura of undeniable presence, power coiling just beneath the surface, restrained yet formidable, waiting to be unleashed.

Her bodice, a second skin of ornate, form-fitting armor, bore intricate crimson and magenta etchings, inscriptions that pulsed with a faint, eerie glow, as if the very fabric of her being resonated with the Force itself.

Her sleeves, fitted and etched with rune-like designs, culminated in gauntlets that gleamed with a polished precision, blending the ornamental with the lethal.

And draped over her shoulders—

A cape.

Weightless, yet commanding, its fabric shimmering faintly with an internal glow, shifting subtly, like the slow ebb and flow of a dying star, as though it carried the very essence of the void itself.

She was grandeur, she was dark beauty, she was power draped in elegance.

And now—she was everything to the acolyte standing before her.

Serina allowed Kali'ka to look.

Allowed her gaze to drink her in, to memorize the face of the one she had given herself to.

Then—she spoke.

"I am Serina Calis, you are mine now."

The words were final, absolute, tinged with wicked satisfaction, as if sealing the acolyte's fate with the simple weight of their truth.

She took one step forward, the movement fluid, the barest whisper of her cape trailing behind her.

"And you will never belong to another."

A pause, letting the reality of those words sink into Kali'ka's bones, settle deep into the marrow of her being.

"But do not mistake possession for imprisonment, my dear."

Serina's hand lifted, and this time, she did not merely brush Kali'ka's flesh in passing—she grasped her.

Fingers curled beneath the acolyte's chin, firm, commanding, lifting her head higher, forcing her gaze back to meet her own.

"I do not bind you to weaken you."

Her voice was low, sultry, curling around Kali'ka's senses like warm smoke.

"I bind you so that you may become something greater."

Another pause, her thumb brushing just slightly along the side of Kali'ka's jaw—deliberate, measured, taunting.

"So that you may become mine."

Serina tilted her head slightly, studying her acolyte as though considering her next move, as though enjoying the tension of the moment, of the newly forged bond between them.

"And so, I shall shape you."

She finally released her, stepping back, allowing the absence of her touch to linger, to ache, to remind Kali'ka of what had just been given—and taken.

"The shard in your hands is your first step."

Serina's expression did not change, but the weight of her gaze was inescapable, unrelenting.

"And I will be watching, always."

Another step back, her cape whispering against the stone, her blue eyes still locked onto the acolyte like a hawk that had claimed its prey.

"You have sworn yourself to me, Acolyte."

A pause, letting the moment stretch, letting the words settle.

"Now—prove that you are worthy to keep what I have given you."

She turned, moving deeper into the shadows, but not before offering one final glance, one final smirk, one final taste of the power that now owned Kali'ka completely.

"Come, my dear."

Her voice, smooth as dark silk, curled in the air like a whisper of temptation.

"Let us see how far you are willing to fall."

 

[Kali'ka]

Tag: Serina Calis
​

Kali'ka was almost trembling, so strong the feelings she harbored. An unbridled excitement made her feel on fire. She had what she had desired, a mentor to lead her into the Darkness. The stranger's commanding, alluring presence had her constantly on the edge with the unique sensation one has as they balanced on a wall, the split second before the fall. Fear certainly, for she had vowed devotion to a being she could not even identify, let alone name. And it all fed her appetites of power and the flesh.

The moments of silence hung like tense wire. The woman moved with such deliberate ease, slow, gliding, sensual, as if to torment Kali, to whet her appetite for the stranger even more. Then, when she was close, the woman stopped. With achingly slow movements, her gloved hands lifted to remove the hood.

Finally, Kali'ka could see the face of her Mistress. It was...unexpected. The woman was young, probably younger than Kai. But her features, her presence, rendered her far more mature. There was a statuesque beauty to the woman. But not of softness. Strength, power, resided in that gorgeous face. Eyes that possessed, a mouth set with plush lips demanded obedience. The whole image of the woman was spectacular. The armor and garments, exquisite, betrayed the appealing shape of her figure. The woman was haughty, but rightfully so. Everything from her features to her clothing seemed to pulse with its own power, a subtle glimmer that raced across the armor and shimmered in her flaxen mane. and cloaking her entire being was palpable Dark power.

Kali'ka found her...breathtaking.

As she consumed the woman's appearance, a final gift was given. A name.

Serina Calis.

It was one she did not know. Nor would she utter it. In the fiery core of her belly, the acolyte knew she would only refer to the woman as Mistress.

Serina was no longer subtle about the nature of their dynamic. She possessed Kali'ka. The firm grip on the Kiffar's chin was no longer soft and subtle, but firm and commanding. For the acolyte, it was no less sensual. Her dark eyes finally met those she had stared at in shadow. Azure eyes peered back coldly, assessing, calculating. A chill ran down Kali'ka's spine. Serina made it clear, Kali'ka would never belong to anyone else, a possession of the Dark Mistress. Kali knew it, felt it, she was not a prisoner, not a cowing slave. She was more free than ever in her submission to become something great. The Mistress had said so herself.

It was done. She was a true Acolyte.

The Umbra Shard was stashed away safely. Dark eyes watched as Serina turned again, moved away, knowing that her Acolyte would follow.

And she did.