Private The Lirka Heresy

[Nova Ka]

TAG: Lirka Ka
Gear: Mantle of Ka, Edge of Oblivion, Star of Thustra

Nova Ka stormed through the halls, her breath a steady growl beneath the heavy rasp of her helmet. She had seen it. Everyone had seen it.

Her mother—Lirka Ka, her creator, the foundation of her being—locking lips with some Sith during a live-streamed arena fight. It went against the very core of who they were.

The moment had played on repeat in her head, each loop fueling the fire in her gut. Lirka was model. Hers to admire, to worship, to follow. Not some Sith's.

Now her stream chat wouldn’t should up about it. Every single stream for the last week, someone who post links of the footage.

Did her mother not realize the damage this had done to the family name? How many she would have to track down and kill to silence the mockery on the holonet? That moment would live on now, for eternity.

The greatest shame of her family line.

A cleaning droid whirred into view, a pitiful machine too slow to retreat before Nova's fury found it. She lashed out, her armored fingers curling around its chassis before slamming it into the wall with enough force to crack the durasteel. Sparks erupted from the wreckage as she let it drop in a smoldering heap.

Did her mother truly believe this pitiful force could stop her?

Laughable.

A crew of workers stumbled into the hallway just in time to see her coming. One of them—a Mon Calamari in maintenance overalls—had the misfortune of stepping forward. He barely managed to stammer out a word before Nova's fist caved in his faceplate, sending him sprawling to the floor.

The others scrambled back, but she was faster. Her boot met the chest of a human worker, sending them flying into a bulkhead. Another tried to run, but Nova caught him by the collar and hurled him like a ragdoll. His body smacked into a row of cleaning supplies, toppling them in a cascade of shattering containers and chemical spills.

Her pace never slowed.

She moved like a storm, fists shattering control panels, boots denting bulkheads, every motion fueled by unchecked rage.

It offended her that this was the force her mother had protecting her person with.

A security officer rounded the corner, blaster already raised— wrong move. Nova caught his wrist in a vice grip and twisted until the bones shattered. His scream barely had time to leave his throat before she wrenched him off the ground and slammed him into the floor.

Nothing would stop her.

Not the bodies left crumpled in her wake. Not the alarms wailing overhead. Not the stench of burned-out circuitry and blood clogging the air.

She was going to find her mother. And she was going to get answers. Some poor fool, armed with a basic cleaning mop attempted to back away; admission of cowardice.

She planted him into the wall, and continued her warpath.

Even the underlings were a disgrace to look upon her.

 

[Lirka Ka]

The incident on Besberra had certainly made a mess, but that was what Lirka had wanted. She almost had regretted duping poor Nova Ka into being her unwitting broadcaster across the holonet.

Almost.

Lirka Ka lacked the capacity to truly regret, regret was for the weak minded. And Lirka was never weak. Idly she sat in her “office”, nursing some foul nutrient slurry that glittered with spice. Then, crash

Bsng

The thunder of combat, and of murder. She knew the sound well, she had been on plenty of similar rampages in her long military career. It had none of the subtlety of the Tsis’Kaar, so they hadn’t come to kill her. The Eternalists didn’t care, and Carnifex would have made her come to him. That left only one, and evidently, Nova was less than pleased.

She had inherited none of Lirka’s carefulness it seemed, but it bothered the Once Sephi little. Eyes of icy blue looked to the helmet sitting upon her desk, she pondered suiting up fully and meeting the frustrated girl head on. But decided against it. Let her clone gaze upon the grand uncanny design of Lirka’s flesh, and the brand burned into her head. She would not humor tantrums.

Instead, she merely turned her chair to face the door. And waited. In due time she was certain her spawn would burst through them, she knew the way to her progenitor: such was the bond of clones.

And then she would teach the girl what it meant to be a Ka.

 

[Nova Ka]

TAG: Lirka Ka
Gear: Mantle of Ka, Edge of Oblivion, Star of Thustra

Boom.

The heavy doors burst inward, metal shrieking as they slammed into the walls with enough force to dent them. Smoke and debris billowed in the wake of the destruction, and through it stepped Nova Ka—her bare hands stained with the aftermath of her warpath. Blood dribbled from her knuckles, her breath heaving, her entire form trembling with barely contained fury.

The incident on Besberra.

She had been caught flat footed. Humiliated. Turned into a damn spectacle for the whole galaxy to see. And for what? For Lirka's amusement? For some sick, twisted game?

Her eyes, wild with anger, locked onto the woman seated before her. Lirka Ka. Her progenitor. Her Mother. The very being that had molded her existence into something that was never truly hers to begin with. And yet, there she sat—calm, composed, utterly unmoved by the destruction Nova had wrought to get here.

"MOTHER," Nova snarled, stepping forward, her fists clenching so tight that her nails threatened to pierce flesh. "What the kriff was that?"

She didn't wait for an answer.

With a sudden, violent motion, Nova grabbed the desk and hurled it aside, sending datapads and nutrient slurry scattering across the floor. The helmet that once sat atop it clattered loudly, rolling to a stop at Lirka's feet.

"You have humiliated me, and our name," Nova growled, voice shaking—not with weakness, but with the sheer force of barely contained rage. "You made me look like a damn fool in front of the whole galaxy. You have fouled our name, made us a mockery before the masses."

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her entire body coiled like a predator ready to strike. But even through the rage, through the fire burning beneath her skin, there was something deeper.

Something raw.

Because no matter how much she hated it—no matter how much she wanted to be just as cold, just as uncaring—this still mattered to her. Lirka still mattered.

And that, more than anything, was what infuriated her the most.

“Why?”

The question burned within her like a reactor turning unstable.

 

[Lirka Ka]

She was an impressive thing, Lirka admired her creation as she admired her swords. Eyes looked over Nova Ka once, twice as she approached. Lirka remained utterly calm, her face almost no different than the indifference of the mask.

That was, until her desk went flying. The briefest flash of annoyance, like that given to a disobedient hound. Lirka would not lower herself to wrath so quickly, the Once-Sephi briefly opened her mouth to begin speaking before Nova’s rampage continued on. Her brow furrowed - interrupting Lirka. A crime many had paid very, very, dearly for.

As Nova raged, the Brand drank from her negative emotions. The things burned again, but Lirka ignored it as best she could muster. And she did her best to hide her disappointment, her spawn was eloquent: but there was no guile. Had she truly created such a brute to carry on her legacy? A frown slowly but surely crept onto her face at the thought.

“Like a supernova, destroying all in its path without care or thought.”

Another mantra, Lirka seemed to always have one ready to dribble out of her mouth. Her eyes remained locked onto her clone, unblinking.

“I suppose it should come at no surprise you inherited none of my guile, disappointing. A predator too brutish to think about anything other than bloodshed and your pretty flashy screens.”

Her scorn was cold, and her disappointment oozed like the ichor that flowed in her veins.

“Your brother would have understood. You see, Nova, there is more to fighting a foe than mere bloodletting. I could play right into his hands, strike him down there and then and be rid of it all. But why would I not? Why would I “humilate” the girl the Galaxy doesn’t care about?”

She rose from her seat, calmly, and clasped her hands behind her back as she so often did. Seems it was time for another lecture.

“Because it is more damaging to do what is least expected. I could have killed Captain Tesar, but it would only bring ruin upon us: our relationship with the Tsis’Kaar is tenuous at best, his relations to The Viper would put us into their kill-list quickly. He is a friend of the Galaxy, so, I shall slither my way to his side: and reap the benefits of his shadow. He is a pitiful, pathetic, little man. He craves affection and understanding, and I shall put on a pretty face and give it to him. Till the time comes.”

She looked to her daughter again, letting the smallest lick of bile dribble out into her words.

“Now, will you cease your barking?”

 

[Nova Ka]

TAG: Lirka Ka
Gear: Mantle of Ka, Edge of Oblivion, Star of Thustra

Nova stood in the wreckage of her rage, breathing heavily, fingers curling and uncurling as the raw heat of her fury clashed against the cold, cutting disappointment in Lirka's voice.

“Do not bring the failure of kin and myself in the same breath, unless you wish to confirm how far I’ve surpassed them,”

Like a supernova. A force of destruction without thought or care.

Nova's lip curled, baring her teeth in something between a sneer and a snarl. "You speak of guile as if it is the only weapon worth wielding. As if raw power means nothing in the face of your games."

Her voice was sharp, but not mindless, not barking, despite what Lirka spat at her.

"I have played the games, I have worn the masks. I have broken men with whispers as much as I have with steel." Nova took a step forward, undeterred by the weight of Lirka's gaze. "I was made to be a warrior, not a simpering snake waiting for the opportune moment to sink its fangs. You think me brute because I do not coil myself around my prey and wait?" She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "No. I am the strike. The end, the final thing my foe sees before I sever their head from their neck. Not doing as you have, and mewling like a kitten to the beck and call of a lesser being-demeaning the foundation of what we are!"

She tilted her chin up, eyes burning. "And if you think so little of me, then perhaps you made a mistake when you created me.. but Lirka Ka doesn’t make mistakes, she corrects them."

The words tasted of defiance, of something bitter and unspoken between them. Nova did not lower her gaze, did not shrink beneath Lirka's scorn. If she was to be an extension of Lirka's will, then she would not be a shadow creeping through the undergrowth. She would be the blade that severed, the fire that consumed.

And if that was a disappointment, then so be it.

She drew her blade, tossing it before Lirka. The Star of Thustra came next, the tri blade soon unfolded, as Nova took up two blades, the third fell, before being caught on the magnet on her foot. She stood on her remaining foot, three blades raised and readied. A lesser entity would have felt terror grip their being as Nova stood posed to strike.

Though Lirka may have only found this amusing, Nova wished to make one thing clear.

She did not bark.

She decapitated.

“Come Mother, correct your mistake.”

 

[Lirka Ka]

She drank from her daughter's rage with glee, the wrath of Nova Ka fueled the foulness running within Lirka's veins. But it was an unfortunate mirror to view, she really was her clone. Lirka thought back to the many of times in her younger, brasher, years, where she had given much the same tantrums. All frothing anger and murderous intent. Such a thing could be fixed. She could not fault Nova too heavily, the girl hadn't been giving the enlightenment of Rhand like she had, or drank from Carnifex's great font.

Lirka kept her emotions cool as Nova spoke so ill of her fallen kin. Lirka had encouraged such things, and admittedly she did have a point: he was dead, she was not.

"I'm impressed, Nova. You've surpassed a dead man, your kin, the flower that never bloomed? Truly a mighty warrior."

Her voice oozed sarcasm, oozed a taunting scorn. She was egging her on, she wanted to see just how far the monster would go. This was after all, to be a lesson. Or an execution. Time would tell.

She let the woman speak, as she would have expected Nova to do to her. A minor respect, but they were one in the same: anyone cut from the same cloth as Lirka deserved the chance to speak, even if the words out of her spawn's mouth only left the Once-Sephi shaking her head slowly, and disappointedly.

"Guile and might go hand in hand, daughter-of-mine. The raw strength of one warrior over another is proof of worthy, but that is not how you make a place for yourself in this Galaxy, in this new domain of Sithdom. They expect tact, they expect decorum, they expect a knife in the back as much as a hammer to the face. You are the strike, Nova? What good is a strike that is not patient? What good is blind flailing? I do not believe you capable of whispering, Nova Ka, you have shown me little proof of such a thing in your tantrum."

She spoke of Lirka's metaphorical leash, and the Once-Sephi let a deep frown appear across her face. She could only assume she spoke of the Eternal Father, who had given Lirka even the chance to acquire the resources needed to make someone like Nova. Who had given Lirka the chance to even still be a functioning creature, and not some dilapidated mess of rotten flesh. The brand burned.

"You scorn the brand upon me, no? You think to understand my marriage to the eternal father, flesh and blood combined in the gestalt of my being. He has blessed me with power, and with vision. You could never understand it. It is simply...beyond you."

Lirka barely understood the full extent of it herself, the dark powers she had channeled upon Woostri that had maimed her foes and wracked her own body. What sort of monster had Carnifex created?

"Oh, my girl. I do not think little of you, for you are me. But you are my ignorance as much as my strength. My supernova."

The blade clattered to the floor, and slowly Lirka took the thing into her hand. Feeling out its weight, a nod of approval. A well crafted thing to be sure. She took a look upon the stance taken up by her kindred, an odd one: but what were all Ka's if not a bit odd. Taking a rather simple defensive stance, Lirka prepared her lesson.

"I am the mother's guiding hand, for all the dark creatures of the Galaxy that have slipped through the cracks. Come, Nova Ka, daughter-of-mine. Let me guide you into something greater than you are."

Another mantra. Of course. And a challenge, she would not waste a good weapon like Nova: but the girl would have to learn how this new age of Sithdom worked, and she would learn like how all Ka's learned: by violence.

 

[Nova Ka]

TAG: Lirka Ka
Gear: Mantle of Ka, Edge of Oblivion, Star of Thustra

The moment Lirka took her stance, Nova moved.

With a sharp flick of her leg, one of the Stars of Thrusta launched from her foot, a deadly arc of steel slicing through the air toward Lirka's throat. It wasn't just a strike—it was a declaration, a defiance of everything her mother had just spat at her.

Nova didn't wait to see if it landed. The moment the blade left her foot, she was already in motion, surging forward with a feral snarl. Her twin blades came next, slashing outward in a storm of relentless, unpredictable angles. She struck high, then low, her movements a chaotic fusion of instinct and unorthodox precision.

There was no patience. No whispering. No games.

Just the raw, unrelenting fury of Nova Ka.

Nova was unrelenting. As soon as Lirka deflected the third blade, she caught it mid-spin with her foot, twisting her body into a brutal downward slash aimed at her mother's leg. Her attacks came in a relentless flurry, each strike fueled by her burning wrath, a storm of steel and fury with no hesitation, no restraint.

But then—weakness.

With her foot committed to the strike, her balance faltered for a fraction of a second. A single limb left to carry the weight of her fury, a single misstep that threatened to undo her momentum. The flaw of her unorthodox style, laid bare.

And Lirka would see it.

Nova grit her teeth, forcing herself forward anyway, forcing power through instability, refusing to accept the vulnerability in her own technique. She would carve her mother down, even if it cost her everything. She had grown too use to her ferocity ending a fight.

Few managed to survive her rage induced onslaught before this. She saw no reason why now was any different.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Fury, defiance in every strike. She was a Ka through and through, Lirka had built herself on the back of her boundless defiance for all things: most of all the natural order of the Galaxy. As Nova Ka let out her flurry of blows upon Lirka, the Once-Sephi couldn't help herself but feel pride. She had made the right choice forcing the girl to scrounge her existence in the killing fields of the Unknown Regions.

This was the nature of the strong, to test might and mettle against each other. But Nova was still a blade unsharpened, Lirka would be the grindstone upon which her monster would be made perfection.

The star lashed out, Lirka ducked low: the thing sailing over her head before the armored woman quickly went to the defensive. A patient hunter, yet this had given her the opportunity to truly witness her spawn in action. In Nova's fury, Lirka saw herself on those battlefields where bloodlust had claimed her, where fury had boiled over her body like magma. Lirka blocked with both blade and body, letting the blade dance to clash against her daughter's, or letting her gauntlet meet the strikes with the shriek of metal upon metal.

"An unrelenting hail. Yet, impatient. You grip your weapons too tightly."

Patience was a virtue the Sephi could channel where lesser beings could not. For what was a year when you lived for centuries? The Galaxy worked on the timeframe of weaker things, and they were far from weak. The art of the blade was no different. The briefest flash of weakness was all Lirka needed, as Nova's deadly strike sailed downwards, Lirka sidestepped with a mechanical whirr. Her iron leg shooting out like a missile to take the girl off her feet, she did not deign to strike out with her weapon. Not yet.

"Poor form. You lack balance."

The cold scorn of a teacher, not the love of a mother. Yet, behind Lirka's thick accent, there was pride in every word.

 

[Nova Ka]

TAG: Lirka Ka
Gear: Mantle of Ka, Star of Thustra

"Then break me, if you can."

Nova hit the ground hard, but she did not stay down.

The moment Lirka's iron limb connected, she twisted with the momentum, rolling through the impact instead of letting it end her charge. The floor scraped against her skin, the pain a whisper beneath the thunder in her skull. But pain was nothing. Pain was fuel.

She caught herself mid-slide, boots skidding against the blood-slicked surface, her body snapping upright in a low crouch. The gleam of her mother's armor loomed above her, and in that instant, Nova laughed.

Not out of amusement. Not mockery. Not joy.

It was the sound of pure, unchecked wrath.

She was becoming U̷̢͂̈́̀͆͛̈́͂͝ń̶͓̘̍̿͐̋̇̀̋́͐͑̈̂͠h̸̛̺͕̗̩̞̭͚͓̙̮̱̪̓̀̋̇̓̑̐̌̆̀̑͝ͅi̶̢̼̙̦̤̦͙̾͆̈́͒̊̐̂͜͝n̵̛̝͐̇̄͋̐̓͗͗̌͌̓̚̚͝ğ̵̢̨̛͍̟̞̞͕͉̮͌͂́̍͂́́̌͑͂͋ͅẽ̶̛̬͍̘̘͍͈̖͉̹͇͖̳̤͌̈͂̉̔̚͜͜d̸̨͇̼̳̻̠͎͎͕̖̦̮̱̈́͜


"You think I lack balance?!" Her voice was raw, ragged, burning with the heat of her own fire. Her weapons twitched in her grasp, fists tightening around the hilts until her knuckles ached. "You threw me to the Kath Hounds. You made me claw my way out of the filth with nothing but my hands and my hate—and now you think I should fight like some polished duelist?!"

She lunged.

Low, fast, violent.

Her body moved on sheer, unrelenting rage, a star collapsing inward before exploding outward in raw force.

She struck without care, without hesitation. The way her mother absorbed the blows, how she stood amidst the storm, how she judged each and every movement—it only fed the inferno inside her.

She did not need balance. She did not need patience. She did not need to be sharpened like some unfinished weapon.

She was already carved from war itself.

And if her mother thought she could shape her into something greater—

Then let her try.

But she would do it in the midst of hellfire.

Ş̴͚̮̱͚͓̟̜̄h̶̡̳̣̗͈͉̓͘ė̸̝̈̐͊̐̍̓ ̶͕̐̓̃̕p̶̼̞̺̤̘͌̔͂̎̀̉̂̕u̵̞̘͍͕̺̘̎̑͂̔̈̔͂̿̏ͅt̸̼̩͈́̑̉͆̎̅͊͛̕ ̴̝̼̔͊̽͝ḝ̷̧̡̟̮̗̳̻̩́v̵̡̢̱̥̄̈̅͋͛̀͐̕͜͝e̵͚̮̲̩̦̰̔̈̀͊̊r̶̙̩̜̈́y̸̹͐͆͝t̴̛̤̼̠͕̜̮̺̤̪͛̍͋h̵̨̢̧̻̘̲̲̄̂̀̓͜i̴̭̖̘̺̺̮͐͛n̸͓̼̠͇̰͓̖͇̊̐̀g̷̩̝͔̰͕̖͌͒̽͆͑̌́͛̈́ ̸̫̺̽̓ͅi̶̢̧̟̳̣͆͜n̷̼̋͂t̶̥̻͇͖̰̟̑͊͊͒͝ͅó̶͖͎̼͍̭̦̪̤̰͑͊̍̍̇̀ ̶̛̜͊̾̆̓̚t̷̢̢̢̜̙͓̦͚̯͐̒̿̓̒̾͆̈́̉h̸͈̱̥͉̑̂̊͋͗́̓̚͘ę̶͚̿̋͒̋͂̚ ̶̡̡͓̬̞̩͔͇͌̐̈͆͘͜ó̶̳͖̺̺̘̣̖́̀̈̏̓͜ͅņ̶̰͓͈̪͍͉͑̀̓͛̋̓͗͒͜ṣ̷̡̡͉̯̮͕͊͊̆̒͗̌̂͘͜l̷̢̦̮͎͌̇̎̈́̀̆̎̚͝a̶̜̗̫͎͖̤͕̰̠̅́͑̈́̀͗͌u̸͍̗̠̩̥͆́̈́̚͘͝g̶̞̻̭̤͕̮͑h̵̟̗̝̬̣͋̐́͑̋͆̌ͅͅt̸̢̰̭͉̗͆̆̀̍̚̕̕͝ ̸̳̭̇͋̾̂̂̇͘̕͘n̵̬̒̇̔̏͑̅ǒ̴̪̮̱̟̈́̑̐̿͆͘ẃ̴̤͈̝̒.̵̻̠̻̼̝̟̮̊̍̈͛̎͆́̂̕ͅ
̶̬̯͈̟̩̅

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka snarled out, a frown across her face.

"Break you? You are a Ka! Not some ravenous hound, not some disobedient slave. No, my supernova, I will hone you."

Lirka's judging eyes watched Nova tumble, there was a grace in her fury. Lirka did not match it, she stayed a sentinel of calm patience against her daughters fiery wrath. She merely waited for the right moment, she would have Nova learn just as Lirka had learned: by pain. For pain was what would bind them, pain was the forge on which Lirka had become the monster standing before Nova Ka

Nova's ragged voice was matched with the sickly cool of Lirka's own, her eyes looked down to her spawn's grip. Lirka shook her head, ever so slightly. Was this how she had been in her youth? She almost felt bad for her ancient fellows. Almost. Lirka Ka never felt bad for those around her, she was simply incapable of such a thing. Even for the Clone-who-she-deemed-daughter.

"I set you upon the path, Nova. You clawed and scraped because I clawed and scraped. For that is but the first step! I expect great things of you, because you are me! And you shall learn to temper yourself, to know your foe. Nova Ka, you are unbalanced, and I will not have my progeny wasted because you can not tether your rage!"

The fury of a monster had scarred Lirka many-a-time, limbs torn asunder, the cauterization of a lightsaber cutting through her flesh when she considered raw wrath and fury enough to deal with the force-cultists that plagued this Galaxy. She would not let her daughter make the same mistake.

She matched her fury as best she could, and as she fought, and defended herself. Lirka orated, as she so often did.

"To serve the Primordial Dark is to be transient, you must flow, you must change, for the Dark is entropy incarnate! To allow yourself to wither is to pulled into oblivion! The Dark demands us grow stronger, or to die!"

Their blades clank and clashed, the flash of plasma in the air as Lirka studied the movements of her spawn. She could only hope the girl could understand her truths, she was a Ka after all. They shared a mind, Lirka had even gifted her spawn the dribbled fragments of her own memories. Yet that was the danger, Lirka had grown much since the days of the Empire. And those were memories she couldn't simply flash into the brain. Lirka finally struck out against her spawn, a quick slash aimed for the girl's chest: immediately followed up by a thunderous swing of Lirka's metal fist. Far from a kill-strike, but hopefully plenty enough to disorder the clone even more.

 

[Nova Ka]

TAG: Lirka Ka
Gear: Mantle of Ka, Star of Thustra

Pain.

It lanced through her as Lirka's blade cut into her armor, slicing deep, letting agony blossom in her nerves like wildfire. The sensation should have sharpened her, should have forced her mind into that cold, calculating focus she had trained so hard to perfect. Instead, it cracked something deep inside her, something stretched too taut for too long.

The world blurred, narrowed—her mother's words a distant echo drowned beneath the deafening drum of her own pulse.

"Break you?"

No, no, she would not break. She was a Ka. She was a Ka.

Then why did she feel like she was burning?

Nova stumbled, her stance ruined, her grip faltering. She barely had time to process before Lirka struck again, her iron fist a force of nature slamming into her with all the inevitability of a collapsing star.

A core memory stirred, of the tank, of her birth, her molding-it began to align within her warped skull.

The impact sent her sprawling, the breath ripped from her lungs in a sharp gasp. White-hot pain pulsed through her, her vision darkening at the edges—but that didn't matter. None of it mattered.

Her sanity snapped like brittle glass.

A rasping, ugly snarl tore from her throat, somewhere between a growl and a laugh. A Ka did not break. A Ka did not bow.

"I will not wither."

She forced herself up, slow, shaking, but her grip on her sword was ironclad now, knuckles bone-white against the hilt. Blood ran down her armor, pooling in the cracks, dripping onto the ground beneath her feet.

"You want balance?" Her voice was ragged, raw, a vicious parody of composure. "Then I will show you what it means to be tempered in the fire of a dying star.-"


Something within Nova broke, her movements halted, her eyes widened. The gash in her chest place still burned from the cut, but for a second, she seemed frozen in time.

Something great and horrible finally clicked for the Spawn of Lirka.

A horrible truth, that just…warped something within her very core.

Laughter then came—bubbling up from her throat like a giddy, gasping giggle, something light and childlike, grotesquely out of place amidst the carnage. It spilled past her lips in ragged bursts, breathless and unhinged, her shoulders shaking as if she had just heard the funniest joke in the galaxy.

But there was no humor in her eyes.

Only madness.

"Balance?!" she wheezed between the peals of laughter, staggering upright, her body a marionette of raw pain and reckless defiance. "You don't want balance! You want control! You want—" A giggle interrupted her, sharp and jagged, "—perfection! But you see—" her breath hitched, and suddenly she was moving, lunging, wild and erratic, "—I AM perfection!"

Her blade flashed, a blur of relentless, frenzied strikes, each one thrown with no regard for defense, no thought beyond hurt, cut, kill. She danced on the edge of her own destruction, her movements chaotic, unpredictable—too quick, too rabid, too untamed to be elegant, but too fast to be ignored.

She screeched as she swung, a sound somewhere between a battle cry and a laugh ripped from a throat raw with exertion. Blood slicked her hands, some of it hers, some of it her mother's—she didn't care which. All that mattered was the fight.

All that mattered was the fire roaring in her skull, devouring every last shred of reason, leaving behind only a storm of rage and joy and pain and hunger.

"You can't break me, Mother!" She howled as her blades came down like an executioner's axe. "I was born in fire! I was made to burn!"

 

[Lirka Ka]

It was an unfortunate thing really, to maim your kin. Yet, Lirka had done it plenty before. She was the last Ka, for the bloodline had ended with her. Her father slain by her blade: his head severed from his neck, her mother dead long long ago, her prior daughters crushed for their treason, and her son burnt away in the fires of war. Every aunt, uncle, cousin, reduced to nothing but food for the maggots by her short-lived and brutal regime. Yet, she was not the last Ka anymore. The last remnant of the bloodline remained, and Lirka starred at it as a burning gash appeared in her chest. She almost felt bad for Nova Ka

The girl hadn't been given much of a chance from the start. She was cursed to walk the same path as Lirka had, to suffered as she had, suffer as all monsters did. They existed despite what the natural order of the Galaxy demanded, they were creatures forged in vats and tubes for but one purpose: to kill. Yet...could one rise above their purpose? Could they do as Ka's do? Could they defy.

And to think, all this over one meager kiss.

Yet, was it really? This was how they were destined to end up. Blades locked, such was the nature of Lirka Ka. A creature so monumentally self-destructive in her so-called path to strength. It was only natural that her most perfect a clone would follow in her steps. Lirka could see it in her daughter's eyes, the glimpses of the past. She did not know what thoughts ran through Nova's mind, were they her own? Were the specters of the Woman-Who-Was-Once-Lirka? But Lirka knew the madness, she had tasted it far too many times herself to not recognize the signs.

And she pitied her.

Lirka did not speak as the madness of Nova Ka rang out through the room, Lirka only frowned. An emotion most rare flashed in the icy blue of her eyes...was she, sad? Remorseful? Or was it simply pity, for the foul creature she had grown in her image unraveling before her very eyes. A grim parody of Lirka's own being. Her voice whispered out, soft, nearly sorrowful.

"Oh daughter-of-mine..."

Lirka readied herself once more, twirling and dancing as they did. All the attempts she could to block what of Nova's frenzied strikes that she could. Yet the flurry found purchases, slashing her face, slashing through the joints in her armor and some of the weaker plates. Lirka's blood, vicious and black seeped from her wounds as the foul chemical stench of her being slowly filled the room. A duel of monsters. Slowly, the sorrow on Lirka's face grew. She had fallen for a trick of Primordial Darkness.

She had allowed herself to hope, every so briefly. But hope was but the first step on the long road of disappointment. No. Lirka Ka would always be alone, that was her lot in life. She let her solemn words hum out once more through clenched teeth.

"No, my supernova. You were made to be my daughter. My mirror. My monster. My spawn"

As Nova brought down her shrieking downwards strike, Lirka did what she needed to. Sidestepping the blow as best she could: somewhere, hidden on her person, Lirka's machete unfolded itself in her hand. The weapon flared to life with glowing plasma as she brought both her blades up in a flourish. She aimed low enough, for the joints, she was intent on disarming her daughter: literally.

 

[Nova Ka]

TAG: Lirka Ka
Gear: Mantle of Ka, Star of Thustra

Pain.

The pain didn't register at first. The shock of it—pure, white-hot agony—was lost in the haze of battle, in the all-consuming madness that had gripped her like a vice. Nova Ka had been fighting for her life, screaming, laughing, attacking with all the violent fervor of a cornered beast. She had fought as she always had, as she was meant to, as she was made to. And then—

Nothing.

Her arms were gone.

The realization came slow, like a delayed reaction to a cruel joke. One moment, she was raising her blades, carving out her rage in steel and plasma, and the next…

She stumbled back, her body lurching as if it hadn't yet realized what had been stolen from it. Her breath hitched. A horrible, wet gasp left her lips as her knees buckled beneath her. And then she saw it—saw the scorched stumps where her arms had been, saw the black blood that gushed in violent spurts onto the cold floor below.

It was like watching a holoreel, detached and distant, as her mind collapsed inward.

The tank. The cold. The metal.

A memory, unbidden, surged forward. Submersion. Restraints. A needle boring into her skull, whispering commands into her mind, reshaping the very fabric of who she was.

Again. Again. Again.

The searing, surgical pain of her augmentations. The agonizing days spent re-learning how to move limbs that weren't hers. The doctors calling her a thing when they thought she couldn't hear them. All at once, then not at all.

Ả̸̞͎̣̘̲̃̒́͌̅ ̷̢̲̩̙̺̮̀̑̆p̶̭͂̏ẽ̵̜͉̂̔͌̈́͌̀r̴̢͍̹̝̼͕͍͌̌͐̈́̅̈́͝f̶̛̦͊e̴̺̫̤̍̏̚c̸͕͋t̴̛̹̒̚ ̶̗̟̤̭̱͇̓͋c̸̟̠̹̙̎͘͠ǒ̷̡̯̬͝p̸̺͙̙̩̖̓͌̅͑̂ỳ̷̰͍͕̣.̷̭̤̹̄͜ͅ ̴̖̪̝̗̂͐À̶͕̔̉̃̈́͝ ̶̛͎̹̦̻͑̈́͗̒́p̷̨͇̥̟̂ě̶̲̹̪r̸̰̭͗̈́̈́͐̚f̴̼̌͋̈́̏͌͋͝ḙ̷́̉͗̊͆̇c̵͕̥͊͐̆͗t̷̨̛̬̹̅̿͑͜͠ ̵̪̦͉̩̺͙̑̾̑́̇f̸̢̨̙͙̤͔̆ȧ̵̘̊̆̊͆ì̴̡̱̳̯̿̅̕l̶̢̧̞̣͎̳̰̋ų̷̠̩̯͇̯͇̿̓̎̐̆͝r̴̨̦͓̳̭͓̃̀͂̈̅̎͑ͅe̷̫̟̥͎͈̼̒̑̐.̵̡̤̖̲̂͘͜͝͠.

"̷̯̽M̵̨̱̕͘ÿ̸̦́̓ ̷͓̏͑d̷̮̬̏̅a̶̮̩̓̆u̵̹̪͗͝g̷̟̉h̵͉̘́͌t̸̨̯̔ḛ̴͍̆͗r̶̥̩̆́,̶͖̌̆"̴̲́ ̴͖͛ ̷͈̞̈͋
̴̨̯͒
̵̘͚͆"̴̩̇͝N̵̪̠̔̀o̷͙̯͠v̸̢͈͌͂ā̷̫͚̈,̵̧̀"̷̦͖͒
̷̞̤̐̑
̸̮̔̈́"̸̇͜B̴͈͉̃͝ĺ̶̯̼͌a̶̼͒̀d̷͚͕̑e̵̙̽͌ ̶̫͓̆̕õ̷̬̜f̶̢̆̒ ̸̹̚͝K̷̨̞̀̕a̸͕̜̓͘.̶̛̹͔"̴̳̜̂ ̸̟̾̃ ̶̢̅͘
̸̲̋
̵̙́͝"̷̩͕̀͝C̵̩͉͝h̶͙̖̋ä̵̺͖́̏m̷̝̥̌͝p̶̼̄i̷͍͝o̷͔͎̒̆ǹ̴̦͙.̸͍͎̂͒"̶̹̮̎͛ ̶̞̆̕ ̷͍͛
̶̮̟̈́
̴̤̕"̴̠̖͋L̶͍͎͛͑e̶̯̓g̵̣͉͝a̶̧̔͗c̶̖̾y̵̥̪͒.̶̧͆"̶͎̠̿ ̶̗̀̓ ̶̰̤̐
̵̗̒̈́ͅ
̷̣̓"̵̻͑͒W̵̛͔é̴̯a̸̩̎p̸̮̠̍o̷̱̥͋n̷͓̕.̵̯̓̿"̵̨̒ ̴̭̕ ̵̮͐͛
̵̯̤̕
̶͔̬̏̈́"̸̭̥̄F̷̩̣͌ȧ̵͙̖̚i̴̭͊l̶̛͙͊ų̴̝͝r̵̳̠̆e̶̠͝.̷̦̼̀"̸͍̰̌͘ ̶̨̔ ̵̨̚
̵͉̖͊͆
̵͖̭̋͠"̴̮̀͝D̴̖́͜ḭ̴͉̈s̶̃͜g̶̤̣͋r̵̼͎̈́̑a̸̯͆͂c̴̬͘͠e̴̦̤̕.̴͈̆"̵̡̋ ̴̨͈̽͘ ̷̺͍̓
̵̞̏̎
̶̩̅"̷̳͒͝B̵̗̮̑r̵̺̀ǫ̷̾͛͜k̵̤͚̆e̸̳̽̈́n̷̻̰͋.̵̡̑"̷͎̼̑ ̶̪́͗ ̴̡̠͆̈́
̴̞̻͋͒
̸̺͔̎͠"̴̜͊̈́F̸͇̣͆ȍ̴̦͘r̷̦̆͝s̶̤̠̈́̾ạ̸̳͘k̸̝̿è̸̡̤n̵̬͌.̴̖́̿"̵̺́̓ ̶̲̀̏ ̴̗̣̾̃
̷̞̰̚
̶͙̫̿"̴͎̏͌N̶̢̲̈́̕ǒ̷͔̞v̴̝͌à̸̱̪̂ ̸̙̲͆K̶̥̒̂ȃ̴̞̖.̴̗̥̌"̷͇̬̓


The voices in her mind rose to a deafening shriek, drowning out the present. She was back there—back in that place, strapped to the operating table, surrounded by blank-faced technicians speaking in clinical tones about what they would take next. Her arms, her legs, her thoughts, her soul—nothing had ever been hers, not really.

And now, here she was, again. Reduced. Taken apart.

A raw, shuddering breath left her lips, and then—

Nova Ka snapped.

The laughter came first, bubbling up like a ruptured gas line—manic, breathless, broken. Her whole body trembled, from pain or rage, she couldn't tell. A laugh. A sob. A wretched thing caught somewhere in between.

And then she lunged.

The world blurred into violence. She lashed out with what remained of her, slamming into her mother with the force of a wild animal—head, legs, whatever she could use. She struck, bit, tore, with no care for dignity or form. A storm of unhinged fury, of pure, mindless wrath.

The blood slick beneath her boots. The shrill, inhuman sound clawing its way out of her throat. The raw, unfiltered pain that seared through every nerve in her body.

"YOU—" She shrieked, barely human, barely coherent. "I GIVE EVERYTHING!"

A boot met flesh. A forehead cracked against armor. She didn't care where she hit, as long as she hurt.

Nova Ka was nothing if not a creature of war, a beast molded from fire and blood. And if she was meant to be a monster, then so be it.

She would burn everything down with her.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka looked upon herself, a reminder of the monster she had been. The monster she had been forced to become, awakening on distant Kamino after the cold embrace of death claimed her on a forgotten battlefield in a forgotten war. A thing of bulging muscles barely able to keep themselves together, with stimulants coursing through her veins like acid. A supernova, that destroyed all in its path till it inevitably fizzled into nothingness. A freak. An abomination. An aberration not of her own design.

She heard hushed words, needles in her skin, the knife that sliced through lab-grown meat, and the feeling of being rebuilt from her very bones. Of the machine latched to her head drilling memories into her skull in blinding flashes. Servos and binding points jammed into her flesh.

She felt the slimy necks of the Kaminoans snap in her freakish hands, of doors ripped open on might alone, of a blind murderous rampage as she struggled to even remember her own name.

The horror of being lost in a Galaxy that reviled you, trying to fill in the gaps of a woman who you knew was not you. To scrape, to crawl, to fight, to kill for everything little gain. To follow the dreams of a specter to a dark path from which there was no escape, but Lirka was not looking upon herself. She was looking upon Nova Ka

Her monster.

Her freak

Her aberration born of designs outside of her own.

Her daughter. Her spawn. Her supernova.

A remnant of the woman she had been, a tether binding her to the past. She looked upon her daughter, whose arms now lay useless on the ground. Something awoke in Lirka's cold hearts, weapons clattered to the ground and with a swiftness the Once-Sephi rushed to meet her. Lirka Ka was not that monster anymore, she had remade herself in an image as pure as the abyssal darkness of the void. All while Nova languished, fought, killed, the forgotten daughter left to the chaos of murder and war, left to die in some meaningless battle, on some meaningless world, all so that Lirka could escape responsibility. As she always did.

She did not meet Nova with a strike. Even as the armless clone flailed, bit, scratched, did everything in her power to maim her progenitor. Lirka used all the strength in her body to simply hold her, to grasp the girl in her arms and pull her in tight to the metal of her body, to the coldness of her skin. Even if it cost her a wound, a gash, to leak blood to the metal beneath them. She looked down at her spawn, and a rare thing flowed from Lirka's eyes: sorrow.

Her words hummed out, soft, even as she struggled to hold the screaming mass of her daughter: still leaking the same sort of foul blood that coursed through Lirka's own veins. Staining the Once-Sephi's formerly gleaming plate.

"Yes. You do."

Every bone in her body, every doctrine in her brain, even dark step on the path of power told Lirka to slip a knife in the girl's neck. To put down the raging monster in a deluge of blood and watch the life fade from her eyes. To watch Primordial Darkness laugh as Lirka would be untethered again. Alone again. To do as a good slave did and claim another life for her cruel masters...yet, she looked down upon the madness laden eyes of her daughter. Her own eyes, her true eyes, unhidden by dyes and meaningless vain endeavors.

Lirka Ka was slave to no one. She would forge her own path. Because she wanted to. Not Carnifex. Not the Dark. Not the Empire. Not the Sith. She wouldn't be alone again. She couldn't be alone again. So Lirka Ka did the one thing she didn't even know she was capable of doing -

"I'm sorry, Daughter-of-Mine. I have failed you, I have cursed you. I made you a warhead in an era of knives, a wayward thing lost and alone...but we don't have to be alone anymore..."

She starred down at her daughter, nearly unblinking, a tear of foul blackness welled in her eyes. It was unfortunate really, that Lirka Ka only thought about one thing at the end of the day.

"...I don't have to be alone anymore. Oh, my supernova. I will fix you. So it shall be you and I, dancing between the stars till they grow cold and dead as the Dark claims the Universe The one person who sees the Galaxy as I do, who understands what I do, who has lived my life and witnessed my pain. You will be at my side, my Nova. My paragon. The one thing in this Galaxy that doesn't hate me, that doesn't revile my existence, who doesn't wish to curse me down into the depths of Oblivion..."

Lirka gazed upon the Last Ka with pleading in her eyes, She couldn't possibly hate her too? Nova was her! She couldn't hate Lirka.

She wouldn't allow it

 

[Nova Ka]

TAG: Lirka Ka
Gear: Mantle of Ka, Star of Thustra

Nova's breath hitched, sharp and uneven, her body convulsing with something deeper than pain. It was the weight of everything—of war, of loss, of the twisted, violent purpose that had been carved into her from the moment she had drawn breath. She had been made for destruction, a warhead forged in the image of her mother.

But here, now, wrapped in the steel embrace of the one who had given her shape, the one who had spoken words of sorrow, of apology—Nova faltered. The fire within her, the rage, the blind fury that had consumed her entire existence, wavered like a candle in the storm.

Lirka's voice, so uncharacteristically soft, whispered against her ears, promising something she had never truly known.

You and I, dancing between the stars till they grow cold and dead…

Those words tended to her warped mind like an antibiotic, curing the infected delusion that had been consuming Nova’s mind.

Her vision swam, the edges of her world blurring. And then, as if her body had made the choice before her mind could catch up, Nova slumped forward, her forehead pressing against the cold metal of Lirka's chest.

Where once laughter had came first. Now was only a pitiful whimper. Soft, broken, slipping from her lips like the last remnants of a fever dream. It wasn't of terror. It wasn't even relief. It was madness—madness leaking from her eyes in the form of silent, shaking tears.

Her breathing hitched, a sob breaking free, raw and unrestrained. She had nothing left. No arms to fight, no blade to strike, no will to resist the one thing she had been yearning for her entire existence.

Acceptance. Inclusion. She wasn’t being forced out.

"Mother…" The word was barely more than a whisper, slipping past her bloodstained lips like a prayer, fragile and desperate.

She pressed closer, shuddering against Lirka's armor, her body wracked with the tremors of something she did not fully understand. Her hands—her arms—were gone. Her limbs still twitched from the floor, though Nova herself remained disarmed.

She was broken, unmade. And yet, she had never felt more whole than she did in this moment, held in the arms of the only one who could understand.

The only one who had ever truly seen her.

And so, Nova wept. She wept into the cold embrace of her mother, her creator, her everything.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Pain ran deep in the bloodline of Ka. A pain deeper than the weakling yokels of the Galaxy could ever truly understand: it was the crushing weight of strength, the pain that came with the dark path of survival. It wracked the body, and annihilated the mind. Yet in the storm, those worthy would rise mightier than before. A lonely path, one Lirka had walked for many, many, years

A path she had forced Nova Ka on by birthright. To be forged in the Image of Lirka was to suffer, as she had suffered. To feel the all-consuming flames of madness take hold in the mind, and let the agony of it all overpower the senses. Lirka had wept once, long ago, in a different time, and with a different face. In sorrow and in desperation, the monster who didn't fit anywhere in the Galaxy.

Yet, there was but one path for two monsters to find a place for themselves: in each other. One of Lirka's clawed gauntlets reached out, cradling the head of her daughter as she wept into her armored chest. Lirka held her tight, keeping her pressed against the cold metal. She didn't want Nova to see her face, as that single tear of inky blackness rolled down her cheek. Lirka was smiling, wide, and with glee.

Lirka had walked the path. She had suffered. A dozen wars. Hundreds of battles. Millions dead by her hand. With her eyes, she witnessed a world die: Csilla, gone to memory. In her path, winding, and tenuous Lirka had learned something: there was no blade more wicked than kindness.

No blade of steel would break a Ka, it was not what they were made for. It was the slithering, slinking, blade of kindness that would break the armor. To fill the void left in their hearts with the only thing that Lirka could offer Nova that no one else truly could: a mother's love. It was a mother's love that would bind her warhead, would temper her supernova into a form most suitable for this new era. She would dance to Lirka's tune, because Lirka would be the only one who could truly understand Truly cure the loneliness that plagued the strong. Lirka would have her weapon, regardless of their spat today.

The Once-Sephi's words hummed out once more. Assuring, calm, a mother's love hiding the wickedness that laid within.

"My dear supernova..."

Lirka looked down upon her daughter once more, her smile gone: replaced by blank faced serenity. Stalwart resolution in the face of the clone's madness.

"There is much to be done."

Their work would never be done. And they would face it side by side, as Ka's. As kin. Nova would see, in the years to come, just how patient her serpentine mother was: Trayze Tesar would suffer in ways so deep, so pure, that all the humiliations Nova had suffered would be worth it.