Private Resolution

[Darth Virelia]

"Long time, no see."

Tags - Asaiah Celwik


The mist clung thicker than it used to.

Not the weak, damp vapors that drifted across open bogwater—this was dense, wet, conscious. Like the planet itself had begun to breathe deeper, slower. Like the very lungs of Dagobah had expanded in the last two years to draw more in. The air was warmer. The vines hung lower. The shadows whispered louder.

And all of it—every foul breath, every hungry root, every twisted limb of every ancient tree—reverberated with her name.

Asaiah.

It had taken root in the marrow of the planet.

Serina Calis had watched it from afar. Observed through proxies and puppets, through subtle ripples in the Force and fractured transmissions soaked in terror. Reports of bodies drained dry and nailed in reverence to tree trunks. Of black-blooded beasts stalking the outskirts of civilized sectors. Of whispers carried by traders and scavengers—a goddess in the swamp, they said. A red-eyed prophetess with broken hands and boundless conviction.

Serina had been... pleased.

She had given the nearly nothing. And in return, Asaiah had given her a everything.

Now it was time to reward.

The shuttle screamed down through the atmosphere like a blade slipping into a wound already carved. There were no warnings. No hails. No theatrical descent of banners and storm. Just the hiss of reentry, the sleek black of a stealth-coated hull, and the quiet hum of landing struts biting into loamy ground as Serina's vessel came to rest at the edge of the altar-clearing.

The same clearing where once a creature had risen from the mud, trembling and unnamed.

Where once blood had turned water into wine.

Where once a goddess had been baptized in her own ruin.

Now, the jungle bowed around it. Trees twisted toward the landing zone like devout congregants craning to witness a second coming. In the distance, something growled low—not in warning, but in recognition.

Serina stood just beyond the boarding ramp, still cloaked in shadow, her silhouette a sculpture of grace and quiet menace. Her presence, even at rest, moved like a knife wrapped in silk.

Two years.

And she had returned not to check on Asaiah…

…but to claim her.

The boarding ramp lowered.

Serina Calis stepped out.

 

[Asaiah Celwik]

Location: Dagobah
Tag: Darth Virelia

It had been a while since Asaiah had carried on with her experiments. They had...grown in size at least. And with that growth in size, Asaiah had needed to recovered usage of her arm. She had down her own healing to it. Of course, she still kept it wrapped up for now. As long as people thought her arm was still incapable of use, then it allowed for more surprises.

Currently, she had a few test subjects hung up around the cave she was working in, as she flicked her finger against the syringe she was working with. Filled with a strange concoction of blood, as she made her way towards one of her test subjects, a squirming human or near human man. The fear evident in his eyes as he looked around the cave, trying to figure out where he was.

"Hm? Relax. Relax. Breathe, my friend. I am just giving you your punishment. You decided to trespass on my territory. You snuck in, hoping to steal from me. Or potentially kill me. And well...I could always remove a leg. Remove a hand for what you've tried to do...but instead I've decided to reward you my friend. You shall become...a Guardian of mine. At least, if you survive my little cocktail here."

She waved the syringe around for a moment, a calculated but manic grin on her face. She had grown. Evolved in many ways. From the crazed vigilante, to a Goddess, to a Scientist. Yet...she was still all of those at the same time. As she prepared however, a small brush of air against the back of her neck caused Asaiah's eyes to narrow...before they went wide with an expression of glee.

"Oh! She's here! I'm sorry to disappoint you my friend! I have an important guest to meet! But in the meanwhile, Dag can keep you company, isn't that right?"

"Yessss...Mother...."

As Asaiah prepared to leave, the creature walked out from the darkness, making its way over towards the test subject. A series of screams echoing through the cave as Asaiah hopped and skipped her way through the swamp, A giddy little grin spread across her face as she prepared to meet the closest person to a friend.

​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Long time, no see."

Tags - Asaiah Celwik


The screams rolled through the swamp like incense—thin, reedy, and fragrant with fear. They touched the fog in little bursts, like fireworks too ashamed to light the sky, then died somewhere between the hanging vines and the twisted, gnarled roots. The air shivered. Something in the jungle paused—just for a moment—to listen.

Serina Calis exhaled slowly.

"Mmm." Her voice was soft, thoughtful, as if savoring a fine perfume. "Still using the vocal cords. That's endearing. You've kept your... humanity, Asaiah. Or at least its shape."

She moved with that same silent elegance she'd carried two years prior—her heels made no sound, and yet the swamp parted before her like it knew its place. The roots avoided her steps. The insects kept their wings still. Even the fog refused to cling to her hemline.

Her silhouette emerged slowly through the thick green-gray curtain of vapor—taller, even more refined, swathed in layers of impossibly dark cloth that shimmered like wet silk and clung like shadow. Her hair was up this time—crowned in small metallic pins, like sacrificial blades in a dark altar. Her eyes, cold and ice-blue, cut through the murk like a twin pair of moons. Beautiful. Monstrous. Hungry.

And then—there she was.

Serina came to a halt just as Asaiah skipped into view, her smile widening slightly at the sight. But not warm. Never that. The smile was slow, deliberate, with the slight curve of a sculptor admiring her latest statue. Admiration, yes—but always with intent. Always.

"You've changed," she said, voice low like a caress, like silk dragged across exposed nerves. "I expected evolution. But this?" She stepped closer, boots sinking into the damp moss. "You smell like sulfur and blood and aspiration. You've been playing god long enough to start believing in yourself. How... precious."

A slow glance trailed Asaiah up and down. Not in judgment. No. In inventory.

 

[Asaiah Celwik]

Location: Dagobah
Tag: Darth Virelia

There couldn't have been more of a contrast between the two. Darth Virelia walking as if she had all the time in the world, elegant almost as she made her way through the swamps, whereas Asaiah was skipping with as much energy as possible, a boundless amount of energy as if there wasn't enough hours in the day for her.

Yet as they came across each other, Asaiah skidded to a stop, tilting her head to the side as she took in Serina for a moment. Her clothes were different. Her posture was in a way. It wasn't as if Serina had became something...different, but to Asaiah, she appeared to be something new. Something that Asaiah hadn't seen before. There was both something familiar yet also new stood in front of her.

"Well. Evolution is to be expected. Everything is evolving in a way. Without evolution, things become stagnant. It's the same reason why Death is required in life. Without Death, Life becomes stagnant."

Another way she had evolved as a person. Being more...philosophical than she used to be. She had always stood by her belief that she didn't want to live forever. Death would come for her eventually, and it was that eventuality that pushed her in her research. She had to learn what she could before that moment came. In a way, it was amusing that she saw herself as a Goddess. She didn't see herself as an immortal Goddess, destined to always reign over her followers. No. She was a mortal Goddess, who she wanted stories of to be passed down for generations.

"I have always believed in myself. You have just...shown me how to make others believe in me. To give them the...right encouragement so as to open their eyes. And in exchange for their eyes opening, I have their faith. Their lives in my hands...for my experiments."

And there it was. Whilst on the outside, Asaiah had given the vibes of caring for her family, in reality, she saw them as more willing test subjects. The "Good" Blood for her to use in comparison to the "Evil" blood that she gained from...her more unwilling test subjects.​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Long time, no see."

Tags - Asaiah Celwik


Serina did not look back when Asaiah spoke.

Not at first.

She simply paused, foot alighting gently atop a gnarled root that jutted from the swamp like a twisted finger, and turned her head just enough for the curtain of her hair to part. The thick mist framed her face like a cathedral's incense. Her pale features sculpted in shadow. That predatory half-smile. That look in her glacial eyes—the kind of look that might turn a heartbeat into a whispered prayer or a scream into an oath.

"Mm," Serina purred. "Philosophy now? I leave you for a few years, and you grow a tongue sharper than most lightsabers. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Even vermin grow teeth when they're cornered. But you…"

She turned fully now, the folds of her dark attire swaying with her like a living shroud.

"…You were never a cornered thing, were you? No, Asaiah. You were born with the hunger. You just needed to stop pretending it was righteousness."

Her boots sank slightly into the muck as she stepped back toward her, one hand ghosting at her side like a conjurer preparing a spell. When she stood before Asaiah again, she was so close the chill from her body could be felt rising through the warmth of the swamp's stagnant breath.

"Belief is a knife," she said softly, tracing a slow finger just over Asaiah's throat—but not touching. Never quite touching. "It carves the world. It makes the dead walk and the living kneel. It fashions reality around the silhouette of desire. And you..."

She smiled wider now, tilting her head to mirror Asaiah's earlier gesture.

"You're learning to cut."

She reached up then, letting two fingers trail through a smear of blood that had dried on Asaiah's cheek—an artist, reclaiming her canvas. She held those fingers up to her own lips, tasting the faint metallic tang of Asaiah's experiments. The gesture was almost sacred. Almost obscene.

"I tasted your faith," she whispered. "It's ripened. Thickened. Not the raw, wild stuff from before. No. You're fermenting it now. Turning it into something vintage."

Another step, and Serina's voice dipped low, intimately low—like velvet draped in sin.

"But don't confuse fermentation for perfection. You are not yet what you will be. Not until I've finished you."

Her hand finally did touch Asaiah—flat, cold palm against the warm bandages of her wrapped arm, and she leaned in, lips grazing the shell of Asaiah's ear with a breath that made the air itself shiver.

"You said they are yours to experiment on. And I believe you. But you…" she lingered there, letting the pause curl and purr, "…you are mine."

Then she pulled away, slowly, like a dancer at the final note of a forbidden waltz, leaving that heatless absence where her presence had just been.

Serina turned again, cloak rippling as the swamp answered her presence with silence.

"I will not take you from your garden if you are not ready," she said aloud, no longer looking back. "But the galaxy is in want of gods, Asaiah. It's trembling. Crying out for judgment, for new laws, for something real to kneel before. And I will not let you rot among vines and half-blooded pets while the stars scream your name."

 

[Asaiah Celwik]

Location: Dagobah
Tag: Darth Virelia

Her eyes narrowed for a moment. In Asaiah's own twisted mind, she was still following the path of Righteousness. It was just...that she was the one who was right. And she was showing those who had falter on their own path the true road they must walk upon. The road paved by her. It was all for Justice at the end of the day. True Justice. Not that spouted by the Galactic Alliance, the Diarchy, the Imperials or even the Sith. It was Asaiah's justice. Her righteousness.

Asaiah could sense the coldness coming from Serina, the joyful glee slowly fading from the woman's face as she was taking everything in for a moment. The look in Seirna's eyes could have made someone else break out into a whispered prayer for her, or to swear some kind of oath towards Serina...yet that effect didn't seem to be there for Asaiah. It wasn't so much as if Asaiah was fighting the feeling...It was more, Asaiah didn't have that feeling inside of her. That emotion was impossible to be pried out of her, because it didn't exist. Asaiah didn't worship. She didn't pray. It was...not possible for her. Nt anymore.

"The dead should stay dead. And the living shouldn't have to kneel."

Serina had changed. The change wasn't something Asaiah didn't quite like. In her twisted mind, Asaiah was giving people the strength to stand for themselves. To free themselves from those who would make them kneel beneath them. And Serina was touting the opposite. She sounded exactly like the kind of people that Asaiah wanted her followers to stand up against. This wasn't the woman who had given Asaiah belief in herself. What had happened to that woman?

A small grimace came to her face at the fingers running over cheek. The touch against her arm. Her gaze focused on Serina's, even as she felt the whisper against her ear. Yet whilst the air shivered, Asaiah did not. Her eyes just narrowed on Serina's, as the gleeful and quite innocent like demeanour to Asaiah had faded, and her tone was harsh. Strict.

"...I am no-one's. Not my family's. Not yours. Nor mine."

She was far more independent than she gave off. In the past, she had been a puppy. She had needed someone to guide her. But not anymore. She was not someone who served others. She did not let anyone else lay claim over her. She was her own. She would not kneel to anyone. She would not let anyone lay claim to her like her parents had. Asaiah was her own woman.​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Long time, no see."

Tags - Asaiah Celwik


Serina didn't move.

She didn't blink.

Not even the murky wind dared stir around her as Asaiah's words echoed into the rot-stained mist. The air itself seemed to pause—less like silence, and more like anticipation.

Then, finally, Serina turned.

She didn't smile.

She didn't scowl.

She simply looked, and the weight of it was almost unbearable. The way a blade looks at the soft space between your ribs. The way a storm looks at a house that doesn't know it's already broken.

Her voice came soft. Measured. A precise incision instead of a strike.

"Why are you allowed to be free?"

A pause. Not rhetorical. Not mocking. It was a scalpel of a question—delicate, deadly, and very, very sharp.

Serina took a single step forward, so slow and poised it almost wasn't a movement at all. Her pale hands lifted—not to strike, not to caress, but to illustrate. To sculpt meaning from the air.

"You say the dead should stay dead. The living should not kneel. That no one owns you. You say you are your own."

Her head tilted, just slightly.

"But tell me, Asaiah… who gave you the words to say that?"

The question didn't need an answer. It burned because it already had one. Because the truth was not found in rebellion—but in design. Serina had been there at the beginning, at the broken altar of Asaiah's doubts. She hadn't asked to be followed. She had planted seeds.

"You speak of righteousness as if you were not taught the shape of it. You speak of justice as if it did not first touch your lips when I put it there. You call yourself a Goddess…"

Serina stepped forward again, voice dipping lower now, velvet over iron.

"…but who was it that told you that you could be one?"

She was in front of her now. Not touching. Not yet. But her presence loomed, commanding and cold, like the pull of gravity itself. That ever-growing weight.

"Do you believe you made yourself, Asaiah?" she asked, tone still unnervingly soft. "You think independence means absence of influence? You think because your leash is self-spun that it isn't wrapped around your throat?"

A slow breath. A glint of cruel amusement now edging her gaze. Almost pitying.

"You say no one owns you."

Her hand reached out—not to strike, not to possess, but to lift Asaiah's chin with two fingers. Not forcefully. Just enough.

"But when the stars fall, when your experiments fail, when your followers turn to you with fear in their eyes and ask why the gods let them suffer—where will you go?"

A whisper now. Icy. Intimate.

"Freedom is for those who've earned it. You haven't. Not yet. Not until I say you have."

 

[Asaiah Celwik]

Location: Dagobah
Tag: Darth Virelia

"Who said I was free?"

Asaiah said, simply. Matter of factly. There was no joyful child-like glee in her voice anymore. No wonder in her eyes as she took a step forward towards Serina. The swamps of Dagobah bubbling in response to Asaiah's steps. Dagobah was silent for Serina, but it awoke for Asaiah.

"I told you. I don't belong to myself. Nor do I belong to you."

She had given an answer to the question that required none, because it did require some form of answer. Some correction to the belief. Asaiah wasn't free. She knew that. Someone who was free could do what they want. Be who they want. Asaiah was not that person. She was restricted by Fate. By her destiny. She could not be like a regular person, because it would not be allowed. She could not be loved, because she was not a person. She could not be a Mother, so she'd make her own children.

"You speak as if you've put these beliefs in my mind. As if you are responsible for how I've acted. But you are wrong. I am doing the same thing I've always done, even before I met you. Even before I met the woman who made me realise I could manipulate blood in the first place."

Asaiah stood strong. Her head up high. She was a lone temple, fighting against the pull of gravity. Digging herself in place, laying down roots that wouldn't be yanked out easily. She didn't slap away Serina's hands. She didn't need to. To lash out, to act as if she was better than Serina was not Asaiah's goals. It wasn't her wishes. Nor did she care for the "affection" from Serina anymore. In the beginning, Asaiah had searched for that affection like some kind of lovesick puppy, but Asaiah was not that girl anymore.

"When my followers doubt me, I will show them the fruits of their doubts. That they deserve their suffering for their lack of faith. When my experiments fail, I move onto the next test subject. I will do as I have always done. Alone. Whilst you go off and work on all your other fledglings, I will work alone. As I always have."

Asaiah was not foolish enough to believe that she was the only person in the Galaxy Serina had worked on "training". No. There were parts of Serina that reminded Asaiah of the way she worked with her own faithful. The care and compassion that she showed them, that was more of a thinly veiled sign of control.​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Long time, no see."

Tags - Asaiah Celwik


Serina stood still, the swamps silent around her. Even the ever-churning rot of Dagobah seemed to recognize something sacred in the stillness. The steam, the slithering vines, the wet decay—it all recoiled. Not from horror.

From irrelevance.

She didn't look at Asaiah. Not at first. She didn't meet her eyes, didn't even grace her with the softness of regard. She stared off, through the fog, as though listening for a music Asaiah was no longer tuned to. Then, slowly, she turned her head—not fully, just enough that the cold shine of her eyes caught Asaiah in their reflection.

Not with love. Not with disappointment.

With precision.

Asaiah spoke of freedom. Of faith. Of destiny.

Serina had heard these things before. From madmen clawing at invisible strings, from false prophets weeping into their own blood. From corpses who still thought they were alive.

It was almost quaint.

There had been a time when Serina had humored Asaiah's madness. Fed it. Caressed it. Molded it like wet clay. She had allowed her to dream of godhood because she knew the inevitable truth—what Asaiah would become, and what she would never be. She had encouraged that broken girl's delusion with a slow hand and soft words, because it would make the breaking so much more complete.

But now?

Now Asaiah believed herself unbreakable.

And that… was boring.

She wanted to genuinely give the girl some ground, try something new, but she knew this arrangement of two Goddesses could never work on its current terms.

Serina took one step forward. Her boots didn't splash. They displaced. Mud dried beneath her. Water recoiled. Even the Force itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see what she would do.

She didn't touch Asaiah. She didn't whisper into her ear. She didn't summon the Force to tear the soul from her bones.

She looked at her.

And pitied her.

That was the only violence necessary.

"You were special," Serina said.

Not cruelly. Not in anger. It was simply fact. The way a scientist states the failed experiment. The way a queen notes the ant beneath her heel.

She turned.

She didn't flinch when the swamp began to hiss at her. It would not touch her. She had fed it something it would never taste again. It mourned her as she walked.

"You were beautiful," Serina said.

A single breath. A single eulogy. The closest Asaiah would ever get to being remembered.

And then she walked, through the swamp, away. Not slowly. Not hastily. Simply gone. Like something being erased.

She didn't threaten.

She didn't promise.

She withdrew.

Because that was the greatest cruelty of all:

Not domination.

Not destruction.

But neglect.

"You know where I live, your always welcome if you change your mind."

And that was all.