Private The Soil Remembers

[Darth Virelia]

"Talent scouting."

Tags - Valaine Valentine



The silence was absolute.

The creature's limb pierced clean through Valaine's midsection, jutting from her back in a grotesque spike of bone and ash. Her body seized—blood erupting over her tongue, pouring from the corner of her mouth in hot rivulets. Her breath caught. Her fingers tightened around the weapon still buried in the monster's core, even as her knees began to buckle beneath her.

Virelia did not rush forward.

She did not move at all.

She watched.

The altar behind her still glowed faintly with lines of cracked light, but the room had grown darker. Denser. The tomb knew what had been offered now. It had been waiting for this—for her.

The creature reared back to finish its strike, dragging her up along its impaling limb like a broken marionette.

And that was when it happened.

A pulse—not from the blade, but from Valaine herself.

The weapon did not ignite. It screamed.

The smoke reversed course in an instant, dragging inward like breath stolen from the dead. The emitter exploded with violent light, a blade not of plasma or crystal but of raw, seething will bursting forth from the hilt—red-black, jagged, unstable, alive. The sound was not a hum. It was a howl.

The creature froze.

For the first time, it recoiled.

Valaine's blood, still dripping from the blade, evaporated in streams of crimson light across the writhing saber. The tomb itself shuddered with recognition—not approval. Recognition. Something ancient had just awakened, and it bore her shape.

Virelia stepped forward now. Slowly. Gracefully. Her voice cut through the chaos like silk dragged over glass.

"Yes. That was enough."

She stood beside the dying horror and its skewered prey—close, but never interfering. She looked down at the acolyte, her head tilting in something that might have been admiration.

The abomination shrieked and tried to pull away, but the blade was too deep, and now it burned. Not the way fire did—something far worse. The weapon drank. It consumed. Its shape trembled with the force of its hunger, its edge unraveling the creature's form from the inside out.

Bone snapped. Ash collapsed. Smoke screamed as it was torn from its binding structure and siphoned into the blade like breath into drowning lungs. The thing convulsed—then detonated into a silent explosion of soot and horror, vanishing into the weapon's core.

Valaine was left standing alone, the saber still clutched in her bloodied hand, her body skewered, trembling, yet alive.

Virelia moved beside her, slow as a tide.

"You asked me if I knew hunger."

Her voice dropped to a low purr, curling at the edges with something dark and indulgent.

"That was your first taste."

Then she stepped behind the girl—close, but never touching. Her presence fell like a cloak, heavy and smothering, like the knowledge of a truth one cannot unlearn. The blade still hissed in her grip, unwilling to quiet, unwilling to sleep.

"You made it real. You made yourself real."

She let that linger.

A truth offered not in praise but in investment.

"You finally took control of your fate. Well done."

Her voice slid past the girl's ear like a promise stitched in silk and blood.

"Don't worry, I can heal you."

 

[Valaine Valentine]

For a moment Valaine believed that her gamble had failed, that this tomb would become her own as she felt the searing pain in her midsection as she was lifted by the creature. As she was lifted her eyes glared down at the creature in anger. To be killed by this pathetic mass of ash and bone, the sheer humility of it. She braced herself for the finishing blow but all that blood and anger finally achieved something of merit.

She felt it before she saw it, the emitter impaled into the creature had ignited into violent crimson and shadow, shapeless and untamed as it all but started to devour its meal of bone, smoke, and ash. Her eyes widened in surprise and perhaps she would have gloated if she wasn't impaled upon a bony limb.

The raw power that she felt from the weapon didn't feel so much that it was flowing into her, but the reverse, her blood and anger was flowing into it. When the creature moved in its futile attempt to get away she felt pain shoot through her body once again as the limb she was impaled upon moved within the wound it had made.

Finally the monster exploded into a puff of ash and smoke as its bones fell to the floor, and with it Valaine felt her knees hit the ground as she started to pant and shudder in pain. The weapon in her left hand was still lit and now she had the chance to see it fully as energy of red and black seemed although it was trying to form a straight blade but lacked the composure, and so continued to fluctuate and pulse, always appearing in danger of losing its form entirely.

She lowered a hand to briefly touch at the wound in her midsection with a wince. The cuts on her cheek had healed, the ones on her hand had almost done the same, but this hole that was punched through her body? That was beyond her natural capability to regenerate. But despite being in danger of dying to blood loss she seemed strangely composed, as if the fear from the creature was more effective than that of her own potential demise.

As Virelia moved behind her Valaine felt that she didn't have the energy to do her usual dance of keeping away from her, not while she felt so weak on the floor and bleeding all over the place. She could only turn her head slightly to try and look behind her. "St- Still speaking in riddles...?" she managed with a weak and shaken voice. The adrenaline that was being pumped through her veins during the fight now lacked any way to be spent and so her hand remained clutched tightly around the weapon, she couldn't let go of it even if she wanted to.

Her eyes then shifted to that blade in her hand and she shook her head lightly, "What an awful thing... Wh- Why can it even work...? How...? There's no cr-crystal..." she continued, completely baffled by the fact that such a weapon fueled by blood and hate could exist and function as it had.

She made no protest to the mention of healing, as far as she was concerned she had to bite the bullet with this one and allow Virelia to do so. But at the very least; she got what she came for.

Tags - Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Talent scouting."

Tags - Valaine Valentine



The scent of blood had overtaken the tomb. Iron and ash, smoke and heat—layered now with the ozone tang of burning rage and nascent power. Virelia moved in silence behind the girl, boots whispering across stone slick with her sacrifice. She didn't need to speak to be heard. Every step she took was a word. Every breath behind her mask, a command. The room no longer belonged to the dead.

It belonged to Valaine—and to Virelia, who would now shape her.

She halted behind the kneeling girl, towering and still, the violet glow of her helm bathing blood-streaked skin in unnatural light. One gloved hand reached forward—not abrupt, not harsh—invitational. Her fingers, clawed and elegant, hovered just shy of Valaine's shoulder, as though drawing heat from her before making contact.

Then, gently, she touched her.

A single fingertip, pressed just above the wound.

The effect was immediate.

Not warm. Not cold. Pleasure. It flowed through her like a drugged breath—unnatural, invasive, seductive. Her spine would feel it first, then her limbs, her throat, her thoughts. The pain did not vanish. It was overridden. Flooded. The Force flowed from Virelia like molten silk, rich with sensation, sweet with control.

She leaned in.

Her voice spilled into Valaine's ear like a caress dressed as a command.

"It doesn't have a crystal because it doesn't need one. You are the focus."

A second hand came to rest on her other shoulder now, fingers splaying gently, possessively, thumb brushing along the base of her neck with gloved grace. Her presence was suffocating—dominating. But never rushed. Never crude. Virelia unfolded around her like a vice made of breath and silk and blood-wet hands.

"Blood. Will. Intention. That's all it takes."

A pulse of the Force surged through the girl's wound—gentle at first, then hungry. Flesh began to knit, the pain turning liquid, spreading outward as if her nerves had been rewired to feel everything. And Virelia let her feel it all. Every inch of skin as it reformed. Every nerve as it was reclaimed.

"You belong to it now. And it belongs to me."

The truth in her voice was inevitable. Spoken like a prophecy from someone who had never once been wrong.

She leaned lower.

Her helm was beside the girl's face now, the six violet eyes glowing in slow, intoxicating rhythm. Her voice slipped past the vocoder like wine over a blade.

"You came here to take power. But you were never going to own it. Not yet."

One gauntlet slid from Valaine's shoulder and traced down her arm, slow, possessive, stopping just above the hand clutching the still-snarling blade. Smoke still poured from its edge, but it no longer howled. It purred. The healing was nearly complete, but she didn't stop. Not yet.

She wanted the girl to feel the sensation of being remade. Wanted her to associate pain with reward. Blood with touch. Want with obedience.

Virelia stepped around her then, slow and lithe, boots brushing her knees, cape flowing like a night-tide around the altar. She stood in front of Valaine now—backlit by the pulse of the chamber's sorcery. The violet edge of her silhouette shimmered like a phantom drawn in heat.

"Now stand."

 

[Valaine Valentine]

Valaine remained knelt and breathing heavily as Virelia moved to stand behind her. She immediately didn't like how close she was and as that hand moved down towards her shoulder she definitely felt the closeness of her presence before it ever actually touched her. In that moment there was perhaps the briefest desire of an intent to take this newfound weapon and cleave it towards the woman behind her, but it was a short lived thought as depicted by the blade itself sputtering and losing its form as anger and blood started to lose its dominion over her.

As her wounds started to knit and mend she winced slightly. There wasn't any direct pain or displeasure inflicted upon her from the healing yet, but rather what she disliked about it was the sickly sweet sensation of it, the nature of this corrupting presence that seemed to linger around Virelia. It turned her stomach and she all but wanted to push that hand away, but her wound was grave and she needed it healed.

She was largely aware now of the type of person Virelia potentially was and the caution of dealing with such people was deeply ingrained into the pale girl. So Valaine chose to let her offer her assistance in mending and stitching this new doll she had found for herself, with any luck she'd believe it harmless and unsuspecting. In truth Valaine still held her decision to try to use the corrupter for her own gain while she could.

Her frail body shuddered suddenly as it was made to feel it all. Every nerve suddenly keenly aware of what her body was doing, what was being done to it, even her own regenerative capabilities were felt in assistance with the healing being given to her. Her jaw clenched and her eyes shut in discomfort and pain, but she made no sound save for the grinding of her teeth in defiance.

Though one thing Virelia said stood out to her amongst the others as those six eyes came down besides her own head while Valaine's grey eyes practically glared in their direction, "You came here to take power. But you were never going to own it. Not yet."

"Then... H-How do I own it...?" she asked as her wound continued to seal shut, she was tensed in pain as Virelia moved to her front. Her mind had calmed now of the anger that was within her and the blood-ignited blade was all but spent and now inert once again. She lifted the weapon in her hand to peer more closely at it for a moment; it was a weapon to be used only when it was needed. Only when she was with her back to a wall.

When the healing was finally complete she let out a sigh of relief as her breathing steadied. Every fiber of her being had been felt as it knit together, the very air had seemed like burning nails being dragged over her porcelain skin. Sweat now glistened upon her face as she looked up at Virelia, finally able to face her properly.

She bit her tongue at the command to stand and it was clear she still had resistance in her thoughts, but she did as told. With a soft grunt she stood herself up to her feet, her black robes covered in ash, her pale face streaked with drying blood and sweat, and her eyes fixated on the masked woman before her.

The girl could not refute that this tomb and this person had changed her, but to what extent?


Tags - Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Talent scouting."

Tags - Valaine Valentine



Virelia watched her rise.

The girl stood like a blade pulled from its sheath—unsteady, blood-slicked, trembling with the heat of its first true forge. She smelled of sweat and old blood, of fear swallowed, of instincts forced into silence. Perfect. There was no victory in her posture, only endurance—and endurance was a far more useful trait.

The saber had gone quiet again. Good. It meant the lesson had settled into the muscle. No need for more screams.

Virelia's gaze swept over Valaine slowly, drinking in the sight of her—robed in ash, lashes damp, chest still rising with deep, tired breaths. The flush of pain had not yet faded from her skin. She had felt everything, and still she stood.

She would learn.

But she would never forget who made her ready to.

"You asked how to own it," Virelia said softly, voice low and warm like velvet against a throat. "You don't."

She began to walk, moving past the girl without touching her, letting her scent—strange, fragrant, metallic—trail behind her like a veil. The tomb opened further ahead, yawning with a low hiss as stone ground slowly apart. An arched doorway stretched into another chamber beyond, obscured by darkness and whispering heat.

"You let it own you first," she continued, glancing over her shoulder just enough to catch the girl's eyes with the tilt of her helm. "Then you let it corrupt you."

Her words weren't cruel. They weren't cold. They were something far worse.

True.

The second chamber awaited them—tighter than the last, circular, cored around a massive stone mirror that reached from floor to ceiling. The frame was blackened, charred, runes etched deep into its sides like old scars. The mirror's surface shimmered faintly, warped like molten glass.

No reflection greeted them as they entered. Not yet.

The moment Valaine crossed the threshold, the chamber responded.

The air grew sweet. Cloying. Heavy with something that smelled like memory and tasted like want. The mirror quivered with a ripple.

And then it began to show.

Virelia said nothing at first. She moved to the far side of the room and stood to one side of the mirror, folding her arms behind her back, posture regal and patient. She didn't look into the glass.

She looked at Valaine.

"This is the part where others break."

Her voice lowered, touched now with heat. Not anger—indulgence. A slow, secret satisfaction, the kind drawn from years of watching hope unravel into need.

"The mirror shows what you most desire. And no one ever wants to want what they see."

She circled again, slow and silent, never interrupting the moment of revelation—only enhancing it with her presence, her voice threading around the girl's thoughts like silk ribbon around a neck.

"Desire isn't a flaw, Valaine. It's a lever. One you can aim outward—once you've learned to stop lying to yourself."

The air in the chamber darkened as the mirror deepened its illusion. The whisper of a wind that didn't exist stirred Valaine's hair, as if the room itself leaned closer to watch her break.

Virelia stopped beside her, not touching, but near enough that the warmth of her breath—artificial, even that—ghosted over the girl's cheek.

"Don't run from it."

A whisper. A warning. A command.

"Learn what you'll do to have it."

 

[Valaine Valentine]

As yet another chamber opened up Valaine sighed softly through her nose. She was very much praying there wouldn't be anymore tests after getting stabbed. With a light roll of her neck she trudged lazily after the masked woman, into dark and dust once more. She had hoped that the next test would at least be less exerting, but this blade now in her hand made her more confident despite the fact she really didn't want to use it again so soon. But as typical she didn't seem too interested in the parts of the masked woman's words that referred to giving herself over to a weapon of all things. That seemed absurd to her.

When they entered into the mirror chamber her grey eyes scanned their surroundings once more; no ash or bone was a good start. Her gaze settled on the strange and ancient mirror in the middle of the chamber, peering over the etched runes and symbols she couldn't understand as she listened to Virelia. "Is the mirror going to attack me?" she couldn't help but jest in light annoyance as the figure made mention of this being the part that people break at.

Briefly did she ponder how often Virelia must've taken people to this place, how many people grasped the weapon as she did, and how many were able to make it to this third test. The thoughts were shaken away at hearing what the mirror's function was, and she couldn't help but smirk in a somewhat smug fashion. "What I desire? This should be good." she huffed in slight amusement, fully believing that she desired nothing besides her own survival. How did the mirror possibly plan on displaying that?

While Virelia drew closer to her once more she gave her a short glance, it was the briefest of looks that still seemed to warn her of getting too close to her, especially now that she was healed and able to move again. Not that she could back up that warning in any fashion. As she looked back to the mirror she waited to see what would be displayed, confident that it'd be nothing that could surprise her.

Steadily did a scene start to appear in the reflection...

It was dark and clouded, or foggy? No, it was much closer and tangible, it was smoke breathed into a quiet and dark room, lit briefly by shining lights from outside and a bright flash of distant lightning with the rumble of thunder and the pattering of rain. Valaine recognized the view out that window, it's one she grew up with. Was her desire home? No, she didn't care for Jutrand at all, that couldn't be it.

A light orange glow emitted from a cigarro held between bony calloused fingers and shined briefly upon the face of an old rugged man, his skin cracked and weathered with age, patchy grey scruff that he called a beard upon his chin, and sunken tired eyes. Valaine gave a shake of her head at the sight; the old man? Really? She missed the sorry bastard sure, but she didn't desire for him to return. This mirror was failing in its only purpose she thought.

She continued to watch as in the reflection the old man looked directly at her as he puffed out another cloud of smoke, and for a moment Valaine's brows furrowed in confusion as her confident smirk faltered slightly, what was that look he was giving her? Did he win a big bet down in some dive? Found a promising score?

He offered a tired genuine smile and Valaine's own faded entirely. "Hey... Knock that off..." she spoke with soft uncertain words. It was a smile of praise, it was the pride of a father for his daughter. It looked so foreign on the old man's face to her, something she'd never once seen, something she never once thought she wanted to see.

She breathed out a shuddering breath as she stared at the reflection presented to her, and there was anguish within as she held thoughts of things that she could've said, that he could've said. He wasn't her biological father, she could barely remember her real father's face, but this old bastard was the one that taught her to survive, that made sure she shared in the scraps of food they scrounged together. Though she never would have said it to him; he was more a father to her than anyone else had been. "You idiot..." she whispered, wherever to herself or the image of the old rugged man was unclear.

Finally she spoke louder in a lightly shaken tone as her eyes remained fixated on that smile of pride, "This-... This mirror is stupid... What it shows can't exist... Doesn't exist..." she declared firmly.


Tags - Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Talent scouting."

Tags - Valaine Valentine



Virelia did not interrupt.

Her body was still, statuesque beneath the flowing contours of her cloak, the six violet eyes of her helm shimmering faintly in the mirrorlight. But the stillness was deliberate—engineered. Every moment she gave the girl to bleed without bleeding, to ache without being touched, only deepened the wound.

She had seen this before. Dozens of times. The shapes were different, the scenes shifting like perfume on skin, but the truth was always the same.

The mirror never lied.

She let Valaine speak. Let her deny. Let her voice shake. The tension between the girl's throat and her jaw—the unspoken ache behind those stammered protests—it was a beautiful thing. Raw. Open. Soft. And Virelia didn't need to press just yet. That pain would ferment on its own.

At last, she stepped forward. Her movements were slow, serpentine, perfectly balanced between grace and weight. The click of her boots against stone echoed low across the chamber as she approached Valaine's side again—close now, but not touching.

Not yet.

"You think it's showing you what was," she said, voice low, indulgent, rich with knowing. "It isn't."

She stopped just beside her, gaze never leaving the mirror. Not yet. Not until Valaine looked away first.

"It shows desire, it shows what you need to see. What will break you open. What you will never let yourself admit."

Her voice slid closer to the girl's ear, soft as a whisper behind a curtain, breath warm despite the mechanical filter of her helm.

"That you want to be seen."

A beat.

"Wanted."

Another beat. Lower now, darker.

"Loved."

She let that final word linger—not like an accusation. Not like a seduction. Like a diagnosis. And in the silence that followed, the chamber felt suddenly smaller. More intimate. The heat of the scene in the mirror, the closeness of breath, the press of unseen memory—it wrapped around them like a bed of velvet lined with knives.

Virelia turned her helm slowly, finally looking at Valaine.

"Tell me..."

She let her hand rise, slow, poised, fingers outstretched not to touch but to frame the girl's cheek without contact.

"What would you do to achieve it?"

 

[Valaine Valentine]

Valaine's eyes remained fixated on the mirror, upon the image of her would-be father smiling at her with the pride he never once showed her when he was alive. She stared until she felt the stinging pain in her chest and when she was unable to bear it any longer her grey eyes lowered towards the floor instead.

She shook her head in response to Virelia's words as she continued to voice her denial. "You're wrong. I don't want anything like that. I told you what I want already; to survive. Being seen? Being acknowledged? It's dangerous. It killed him, and it damned me. No, all I need is power." she said as her voice choked with emotion and regret, she was a stubborn one.

The presence of the room and of Virelia felt like it was closing in around her. It was claustrophobic and suffocating, like the walls were drawing in and trapping her. As she closed her eyes and breathed out a steady sigh she worked to get a hold of herself once more. She had to make distance from this woman, establish and reaffirm the boundaries again, and her thoughts repeated once more to not let such a dangerous person get so close to her. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too.

A soft huff of cynical amusement escaped her lips, "Oh yeah? Are you going to be my new mother?" she asked in a mocking tone, trying to create emotional distance between the two once more by being dismissive. "I won't do anything to obtain it, because I don't need it." She reaffirmed. Her eyes now entirely avoided the mirror, and they avoided Virelia too, instead they turned to the empty dark walls. "What do you see in it? Or am I not allowed to ask?"


Tags - Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Talent scouting."

Tags - Valaine Valentine



Virelia said nothing for a long moment.

Not because she lacked a response. But because Valaine's defiance pleased her.

The girl's denial wasn't weakness—it was tension. Tension waiting to snap. It was the tremble just before a scream, the grip around a blade just before the strike. Every word she uttered—mocking, dismissive, trembling with hollow certainty—only exposed her more. A cracked mask being worn too tightly.

And Virelia didn't tear masks away.

She waited for them to fall off.

She stepped forward again, slow and fluid, her movement as silent as a thought. She circled to Valaine's side once more, then turned her helm toward the mirror—not to look into it, but to observe its edges. Like a sorcerer reading the shape of a wound.

"I'm not your mother."

Her voice came smooth and low, curling like incense around the girl's spine.

"I'm your corruptor."

Another beat. Calculated. Intimate.

"Through passion, I gain strength."

The words slid from her like silk pulled through blood—ancient, deliberate, absolute. The second line of the Code not spoken as lesson, but as truth.

"You say you want power. That you only want to survive."

She turned her head now, those six glowing eyes locking onto Valaine again—soft, patient, and unrelenting.

"Then why do you ache when he looks at you that way?"

Her voice dipped. Not cruel. Not mocking. Seductive. Like honey poured into an old scar.

"Why does your breath catch? Why do your hands shake? Why does the part of you that survives... hate that it wasn't enough to be loved?"

She said that last word again.

Loved.

Not as an offer. As a knife.

She stepped in closer, now standing between Valaine and the mirror, eclipsing the image, robbing her of her last refuge. Her height, her poise, her stillness—they swallowed the space between them. Her presence was not physical—it was gravitational. Dominating.

"You can't own your strength until you own your passion."

Her gloved hand rose again—deliberate this time—and she brought her fingers to the girl's chin. She didn't touch. She hovered. The threat of contact was more intimate than any grip. It promised choice.

And Virelia always honored choice.

"You think desire is weakness. But it's the beginning of every victory."

Another beat.

"Deny it, and you'll always fight like prey."

The room felt colder now. Not from temperature—but from truth. That kind of clarity stripped the soul bare. The mirror didn't glow anymore. It didn't need to. The image had burned itself into the girl's mind.

Virelia stepped back now, hands behind her once more, posture regal and impossible to ignore. She let the girl breathe. Let the space feel like a gift.

"You can look away from it. That's allowed."

Her tone softened, almost kind. Almost.

"But it will still be there. Every time you close your eyes. Every time you're alone. Every time someone looks at you and doesn't mean it."

She turned now, facing the final door.

Her voice dropped once more, so quiet it was barely audible through the vocoder.

"The ones who survive are rarely the ones who feel nothing."

A pause.

"They're the ones who know exactly what they feel... and weaponize it."

And with that, she walked toward the last threshold, her cape trailing behind her like an executioner's promise. She didn't look back.

 

[Valaine Valentine]

Stubbornly refuting this woman's words was something Valaine seemed intent on doing at this point, but Virelia's efforts were not in vain. However the girl might tell her she's wrong or that she's speaking in riddles she didn't understand, wherever she cared for it or not the words did get through to her in parts. If not immediately then at least as seeds that might come to fruition later.

When the masked woman's fingers hovered beneath her chin she slowly turned her head away; still in refusal to submit to this woman in the ways she seemed to want. "... Is it so strange that I'd push it all away? To desire something like that is to desire something that is 'good' for you, but 'good' doesn't exist. Never has something good happened to me. Not then and not now, so why believe it's all about to change? The galaxy is an awful place, dreaming and hoping for a better tomorrow will just cause you more pain. I already learnt that much."

Her words came across as entirely believing in what she was saying, but at the same time they seemed to have hoped that it wasn't the way it was. It was the acceptance of a cruel life that couldn't change, one that could never take a better turn. "Everyone is prey to something. There's always a bigger fish." she stated as she turned to stare at Virelia once again. The image of the mirror was gone, and now it was only the two of them again. "Whenever I feel that sting again, I'll just accept it for what it is, the fleeting and brief hope for a better and impossible future, and move on."

When the tension lifted and Virelia turned to start walking towards the final door Valaine remained still for a moment. She watched that cape leading her forward, but gave thought for a moment to simply leaving. She had what she came for, the weapon in her hand, she wanted power and she got it. What was the purpose of these further tests? What use were they to her?

The longer she was in the tomb the less respectful of the masked figure she had become, and yet she was still breathing. She felt that she was no doubt pushing her luck, dancing too close to the sun. She glanced back the way they came and for a moment it really did seem although she was just about to leave but a nagging thought pushed at the back of her mind.

What's one more room?

With a sigh that seemed more frustrated at her own curiosity than anything she followed after Virelia.

Tags - Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Talent scouting."

Tags - Valaine Valentine



The final chamber breathed around them.

Just a soft exhale of stale air, like the tomb itself had been waiting for Valaine to stop lying to herself long enough to step inside. The threshold they crossed was not marked by symbols or blood, but by quiet. The kind of quiet reserved for revelations.

The room was circular, low-ceilinged, its walls carved with shallow channels that glowed faintly violet, as if echoing the pulse of Virelia's armor. At its center: a raised platform. No altar. No mirror. Just space—empty, unadorned, perfect.

It was a place of recognition.

Virelia stopped at the edge of the platform, her figure perfectly framed by the dim light. Her posture was regal, relaxed, a queen in a throne room where no one dared to speak first. Her helm turned slightly as she listened to the girl's reluctant footsteps behind her. When they stopped, so did she.

She let the silence hold them.

Let the weight of the journey press in—the blade, the beast, the blood. The mirror. The ache. The truth.

Then, softly, she began.

"Of course you push it away."

Her voice held no judgment. Only certainty.

"You were taught to."

She turned, facing Valaine fully now. Her presence filled the room like perfume—dark, spiced, intimate.

"Every time something real touched you, it punished you. So you learned to starve yourself. To cut away what you wanted most before it could be taken from you."

A slow step forward. Just one.

"But that's not strength. That's a child flinching before the hand strikes."

She didn't raise her voice. Didn't approach too fast. But her words landed like the flat of a blade across the girl's chest.

"You survive, yes. But you do it by pretending you want nothing. That you're immune. That you're safe in the dark because you keep your eyes closed."

Another step. Closer. Her voice dropped now, a licentious undertone coiling through the syllables like smoke.

"But I saw how you looked at him. In the mirror."

She circled slowly now, not to trap, not to threaten—to taste. Every reaction. Every breath.

"You ached. Not because it was a lie—but because it was possible."

Her hand rose again—never touching, always threatening to. She hovered just behind Valaine now, her breath skimming the back of the girl's neck.

"You say good things don't happen. That the galaxy doesn't change."

Her voice was almost a whisper now. It poured like warm water into locked places.

"I changed it."

A pause. The words landed like a revelation.

"I made a place for myself where I don't beg for permission. I take. I become. And I remake the rules around me."

Another breath. A gloved hand brushed the edge of Valaine's robe—light, incidental, but claimed. Just enough contact to remind her that she could be touched. That she was being watched.

"You think you're prey? That there's always a bigger fish?"

Virelia's voice slid beside her again, curling along her jawline.

"Good. Because predators never worry about being prey."

She stepped in front of her now, standing tall, elegant, impossible to look away from. The violet light from the walls shimmered along the glossy ridges of her armor, her six insectile eyes glowing like stars that refused to blink.

"You don't need to believe in love. Or dreams. Or even me."

Her voice curved into something gentler. Dangerous.

"But you're still following me."

She gestured lightly to the room.

"You came this far because something in you hasn't given up yet. Something wants to be seen. Not pitied. Not protected. Claimed."

Another beat.

"And you want to be claimed."

She said it like gravity—an immutable law.

She stepped onto the platform, one boot after the other, slow and poised. Then she extended a hand—not downward, not from above—but level.

"Come here."

No command. No coercion. Just invitation.

"You've survived. You've suffered. You've resisted."

A pause.

"Now choose what happens next."

The room offered no hint. No trick. No trap.

Just her. Just Virelia.

And the promise that if Valaine stepped forward, she wouldn't leave the same girl who entered.

She'd leave as something far more dangerous.

 

[Valaine Valentine]

Valaine entered the final chamber behind Virelia. There didn't seem to be anything of immediate notice to her this time, not unlike the other chambers. She pondered briefly the purpose of the room as she fixated her gaze on Virelia, ever cautious of the masked woman as she listened to her words once again.

The way Virelia had navigated and placed herself within these chambers didn't seem unintentional to Valaine. She had started to think that maybe she was far more familiar with this tomb than she let on, and not just in the thought that she had been here before. It only seemed to confirm her suspicions when the masked figure stood at the central platform, so very fitting and in place upon it, surrounded by walls that seemed to breathe with her.

"But that's not strength. That's a child flinching before the hand strikes."

The words earned a retort from the girl as she shook her head in response, "It's not a strength, you're right, it's the removal of weakness." she answered. She remained cautious as Virelia approached once more, ever giving her that wary glare of her dull grey eyes. She didn't have much else to offer in the form of words but as the masked woman closed in on her, hands brushing against her robes, she remained still and unmoving though maintained that distant aura of quiet defiance.

When confronted on the fact that she was still following her through the tomb she glanced aside, "If I try to leave you might just kill me." she spoke before glancing back towards her with cold eyes. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to bow and scrape before you, if that's what you're hoping for...". There was a level of pride in even this once lowly criminal, one that didn't desire to be owned or controlled, that resisted the pull of the chain at every chance she got.

The promise of power was all that was on her thoughts now, and again she had decided to play along. Let the masked woman say or imply what she wished, so long as strength was earned from it she'd take the chances offered before her.

As Virelia moved to take her place once more upon the central platform and bid the girl to make a decision Valaine offered her a pause, just long enough to continue her display of arrogant defiance before she sighed softly. She trudged towards her with lazy strides, and while the offered hand was refused, she moved to stand besides the masked woman.


Tags - Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Talent scouting."

Tags - Valaine Valentine



The moment Valaine stepped onto the platform, the tomb sealed them in.

No sound. No dramatic flash. Just the subtle, final whisper of old stone settling into place—an ancient mechanism locking the room like a vault. No way out. Not until something was decided.

Virelia didn't flinch. Didn't speak right away. Her violet-lit gaze followed Valaine's every movement—lazy, defiant, slow-footed pride wrapped in ash and dried blood. The girl's posture screamed rebellion, but her presence here betrayed her. Virelia saw it in the tension of her jaw. In the low flicker of her breath. In the way she hadn't taken the hand but had still come forward.

Resistance, yes.

But not refusal.

Not yet.

Virelia let the silence stretch once more, just long enough to become intimate.

Then she turned her head slightly toward the girl beside her.

"You keep calling it survival," she murmured, voice low and sinfully calm, "but you haven't yet earned it."

A breath passed, light and slow behind her mask.

"You think you've suffered. That pain excuses you from effort. But pain is cheap, little one. Effort is rare."

She stepped forward now, one slow stride toward the center of the platform, the deep grooves on the floor beginning to glow with the soft pulse of violet light. Runes, etched long ago, came alive beneath their feet like a beating heart stirring to consciousness. Not from magic. Not from Sith sorcery.

From expectation.

Virelia turned to face Valaine fully now.

Still regal. Still composed. But something behind her stance shifted—her posture more open, her voice losing its pretense of silk.

Now it was a blade.

"You want power?"

The question was soft, almost indulgent.

"Then take it."

And with that, she ignited.

Not her saber—herself.

The violet light in her armor surged, the glyphs along her body glowing white-hot before dimming to a slow, steady pulse. Her hands remained behind her back. She didn't summon a weapon. Didn't enter a stance.

She simply waited.

"The final test is this—me."

Her head tilted, helm unreadable, but the energy around her darkened. Her presence thickened like perfume turned to poison.

"Not some phantom. Not an illusion. Not another beast made of ash and failure."

A pause. Her voice dipped now, slow and lethal.

"If you want to own yourself, you have to fight the thing trying to claim you."

She took one step forward, slow as a predator stretching from sleep.

"Me."

The room responded.

The violet glow intensified around the platform, enclosing them within a subtle radius—nothing visible, but felt. An arena in everything but name. Not for sport. For truth.

"You won't win. I'll teach you here and now who I am."

That wasn't boast. It was fact. Inevitable as gravity.

"But that's not the point."

She took another step.

"The point is whether you'll fight me like a stray with a stick…"

Another.

"…or like a weapon."

Then she stopped, hands still behind her back.

"Draw it. The blade that accepted you. Make it scream again."

Her tone softened into something seductive once more, but this time, it didn't beckon.

It dared.

"Or I will make you."

Behind the mask, Virelia smiled.

 

[Valaine Valentine]

Valaine glanced briefly behind her as the tomb sealed shut once she had stepped onto the platform. If she wasn't suspicious already, she would have been then. She heard Virelia's words once more and she didn't quite look at her yet, merely keeping still and tense as she listened. She once again didn't agree with her words, that she hadn't 'earned' her survival when all her life it was all she strived for; getting through to the next sunrise.

When Virelia made the final test clear she finally looked towards her once again, watching as her armor surged with power that Valaine could not even begin to guess the potency of. Her brow furrowed and she took an instinctive step backwards as she held the hilt of the Ashblade, tightly clenched in her left hand, behind her back.

At the display of strength before her she gave a shake of her head, "... You can't be serious. There's no way that I wouldn't die if I tried to fight you. I'm not an idiot." she stated as she took another step back. Indeed, she knew when she was outmatched, it was that kind of humility that let her live as long as she already had. Could it be called cowardice? Maybe. To Valaine running willingly into a meatgrinder was worse than cowardice, it was stupidity to the highest degree.

"If you're wanting me to attack you then I'm declining, but if you've already decided to kill me in here because of that... Well, you won't hear me beg." she spoke, her voice shuddering lightly in concern as she gulped softly. She didn't want to die, but if it was going to happen then at the very least she wouldn't die begging for her life. It was spite and fear that controlled her now.

She did not draw the Ashblade; neither the blood nor the anger was there to do so. Instead, she kept her eyes locked onto the masked figure before her, her body was tensed and it was clear she was expecting the worst for how this would play out.


Tags - Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Talent scouting."

Tags - Valaine Valentine



The girl's refusal didn't anger her. No. It pleased her.

Because it meant fear had begun to peel away the armor of arrogance. And beneath that, something far softer was starting to show. She let Valaine's declaration hang, hovering in the chamber like a dying breath.

"Then die standing, if that's what you're so desperate to prove," she said at last, voice velvet-wrapped steel.

A pause.

Then she stepped forward. One step.

But inescapable.

"But understand this…"

Her voice dipped lower, darker, drawing close not with threat, but promise.

"You misunderstand the lesson entirely. This was never about victory. It was about whether you would try. Whether you would want."

Another step.

Now she stood close. Closer than the girl wanted. Closer than she feared.

"But you won't draw. Not because you're wise. Not because you're cautious. Because you're still clinging to the lie that you are small, that you are helpless, that wanting is weakness."

A breath. Her masked head tilted, and when she spoke again, her voice caressed.

"That's why I'll break you."

She leaned down slightly, devouring her space.

"You flinch before the blow, and call that humility. You bow to the shape of the galaxy and call that survival."

A beat. Then, softly—intimately—

"But you already want to kneel. You just want to choose when."

She let those words seep into the girl's skin like oil through fabric, inexorable.

"That's why you followed me. Not because I dragged you. But because a part of you—the real you—wants to see what you'd become if you stopped lying to yourself."

Virelia didn't strike. She simply stood there—undeniable, towering, in control.

Then, as if to prove her point, she offered her hand once more.