N I G H T M O T H E R
They were away from others not to hide their training, or because of the danger inherent to exploring such power, but to avoid distractions. Much as how they'd had a ritual Hall back on Ryloth -- not out of shame for what they did there, but so others did not ignorantly intrude. Certain rituals were dangerous to the caster and the world if interrupted at the wrong time. And there were people that thought the powers Nightsisters used were "evil" because it seemed similar to the "Dark Side" of the Force -- people whose zealotry might blind them from the danger of interrupting their incantations.
Thankfully, on Dathomir there were very few zealots fearful of the Dark Side's influence. Instead there was another faction, which Vytal had to be mindful of, and just that of the very young foolishly exploring what they were not yet meant to know. Having once been one of those young fools, she was well aware of the need for secrecy in advanced arts.
While the galaxy spun and was set ablaze, those on Dathomir showed little interest or sign of awareness at those goings on. The galaxy left them alone, and they left the galaxy alone. It was a time-honored tradition. Which left them all a great deal of time to study their magicks and hone their bodies against the challenges their world brought to bear every day. Time enough that lessons need not be rushed.
As Vytal thought to guide them in the next step in their exploration, however, her pale features sharpened. Her head whipped aside and her emerald green eyes stared back in the direction of the heart of the Sanctum Inferis Arce. It was a mountainous fortress meant to provide shelter and training to all Sisters that would come. They could stay as long as they liked and take knowledge back to their own covens or clans. It was a place of learning -- the sort of institution Vytal had championed long ago for outsiders not to fear their kind, and now it was there for her fellow Sisters not to revile one another. And it was the sort of place that might be tempting...
"Khylen, take over." Vytal didn't say any more before a burst of green flame enveloped their instructor.
"Gah!" the owned hissed as her hand was suddenly thrown aside by an invisible force. Not from pain, but strattlement. So close!
Vytal stood where the young Nightsister had been a moment ago, a ball of green flame suspended over her open palm. The youth had swiftly glided off to the side back to a small gathering of others her age. Friends that had been gawking at the allure and audacity of the thought of accepting the offer. "You will find no deals on Dathomir, Whore of Gehenna." Her other hand snapped open and a second ball of flame appeared along with streamers that raced up the lengths of her arms. Black lips pulled back in a silent snarl as she stood before the woman of towering horns.
When this was all over, Vytal made a mental note to reaffirm the lesson about making deals with spirits. Notably the part about the consequences of such deals, and how nothing was as it seemed. The wording was both absolute and damning, but also often left entirely up to interpretation by the dominating party (which was often the spirit).
