Private When Shields Shatter.

[Serina Calis]

"How many lies have they told you, how many do they tell themselves?"

Tag - Reina Daival



There are echoes below Coruscant.
Where the light was built atop the dark, but never destroyed it.

You once told me you would fall back on yourself when the shield broke.
But there are places where even you are not enough.

Come find me.
Beneath the temples, beneath the stone, beneath the masks they wear for peace.

You'll know the path when you see it.
It waits. As I do.

—S.



The breath of the shrine was ancient.

It exhaled from the cracked stone with a weight like drowning silk, warm and damp with forgotten secrets. The air was thick—charged not just with the residue of darkness, but with purpose. The kind of purpose that waited. And waited. And waited still.

And Serina Calis was patient.

She stood at the threshold of the forgotten place, her tall figure cast in silhouette beneath the jagged, crumbling archway that once marked the beginning of the old shrine's descent. The stone above her was blackened with age and moisture, etched with glyphs that no longer glowed, but hummed—as if reacting to her presence in a voice only the Force could hear.

Behind her, the world of Coruscant thrummed like a song played too fast, too loud. A hundred stories above, Jedi walked in serenity, political giants conspired behind velvet curtains, smugglers darted through neon clouds. But here, at the edge of this forgotten wound in the world, there was no sound but her breath—and the gentle swaying of her cape, stirred by the wind rising from the abyss.

She was a vision of contradiction.

Regal, and yet dangerous. Beautiful, and yet terrible.

The deep hood framed her face in shadows, but did not hide the golden cascade of her hair, which fell in soft waves past her shoulders. It caught the occasional flicker of light from above, glinting like the edge of a polished blade. Her armor—taut across her frame—seemed alive, pulsing in faint magentas and crimsons, runes shifting with the slow rhythm of a waiting predator's breath.

Crimson patterns ran across the sleek black of her armored bodice, sharp and symmetrical, like a heart flayed open and held together by design alone. Her gauntlets mirrored the flow—runes curled and twisted like serpents down her arms, wrapping her in ancient texts of hunger and ambition.

Her long cape rippled behind her, its violet-lined interior catching the slight heat rising from the chasm below. The fabric moved even when she did not, flowing like silk in a place where wind had long since ceased.

Her legs were still, but her mind was not.

Serina's hands were clasped calmly at her waist, fingers interlaced in ritual composure—but her eyes, those piercing blue eyes, were anything but calm. They glowed with a low, hungry light. Not the overt feral gleam of the mad, but the poised precision of the scholar, the general, the manipulator. The woman who saw everything.

And today, she was waiting for Reina.

Her smile, faint and unreadable, curled like smoke at the corner of her lips.

There was no surprise in this meeting. The future moved for Serina like a long hallway of open doors. Not everything was seen, but all things approached. And Reina's arrival had always been a matter of when, not if. The girl had resisted the first time, yes—had clung to her broken durasteel ideals like a drowning sailor gripping rotten driftwood. But time had a way of widening cracks.

Serina could feel it.

Something inside Reina had changed.

She had seen battle. She had seen failure. And most importantly—she had kept going. That dogged resilience, that refusal to break, made her interesting. Made her malleable.

Serina inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of damp stone and deep darkness. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was soft.

"It's been a long time, little shield."

She said it to the wind.

She said it to the air.

But she knew Reina would hear it—whether in her ears or in her bones.

The shrine opened before her like the mouth of some titanic beast. A spiral of stone steps led downward, swallowed by darkness that was not simply an absence of light, but a presence all its own.

And still, Serina waited.

Hands clasped. Cape flowing.

Smiling faintly into the abyss.

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Underbelly of Coruscant
Tags: Serina Calis
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor

She knew she shouldn't have went alone. That this would have been a foolish thing to do. Even if it wasn't because she was going to Serina, it was because she was going down to the Lower Levels of Coruscant. Deeper than she had ever wanted to descend before. But to stay back would to admit to herself that she was afraid and that was one thing she still struggled to admit. Of course, she had backup plans just in case. Messages primed and ready to be sent out if she didn't get back to her dorm in time.

And so she descended down to the Lower Levels, where the Light struggled to shine. But that was fine by her. She had her own Light, that had been steadily growing. Brighter inside of her, fuelled by her emotions that she was slowly but surely starting to learn how to keep in check. To control so that they wouldn't burn others, and wouldn't burn herself either. She was both ocean and volcano. Water and Fire. Flowing down to her destination as she kept her mind steady. Her Lightsaber firmly secured to her hip as she moved swiftly, each step filled with determination as she descended lowera nd lower.

A storm was raging in her mind. Various different thoughts rushing to the forefront to decide what was the best thing to focus on. There was a small part of Reina that still wanted to see Serina as a friend, even after everything Reina had started to learn about the other woman. It was a foolish sentiment of hers, yet she continued down that thought. Why contact Reina now? Why on Coruscant of all places? For all Serina knew, Reina could have reported this to someone...but that was when it struck Reina. Serina knew her. She knew that Reina wouldn't be the kind to report this. Reina had hoped she had changed from the person Serina thought she knew, but the more Reina pondered upon it, the more she realised she was likely wrong.

As she descended, following the guidance of the Spirit, she could slowly feel it. Or more accurately, the lack of it. The Light was fading the further she went down. The more she delved into the darker side of Coruscant, the more pain and suffering she could sense. It was something she'd have been blind to previously. But now, firmly aware of the sensation, Reina wondered how many times she had been in places like this. Dark, decrepit places where the sun didn't shine. But Reina didn't need a sun to shine for her. She was her own Sun.
​

"It's been a long time, little shield."

There. It was a whisper on the edge of the breeze. A familiar voice that haunted Reina's thoughts every so often. The unwelcomed voice that made its presence now. But this time, it wasn't coming from inside her own head. It was external. She was close to the source of it as Reina kept moving. Kept putting one foot in front of the other, even as more of her was telling her to fall back. To get someone to come with her. Another part of her, the aggression she had been trying to keep in check made for a reach for her Lightsaber, her hand tightening around the hilt...before she released it, letting out a steady breath.

"No. Fighting...is not the right choice this time."

Words. The thing that she so very resented was what had to be her weapon for now. Aggression was not the answer. Aggression was what had made her lose her leg. Reina felt like if she came to this meeting with her Lightsaber drawn, and fury in her eyes, that it was very likely she'd lose something more important than a limb. She'd lose her heart. Her mind. She might even lose herself to the frustration inside of her.

And so she kept moving. It was strange. By now, she'd have expected that Other Voice in her head to pipe up. To tell Reina how foolish she was being, how she was potentially walking into a situation that would cause the people she cared for to get hurt...but it was silent. Because Reina was already thinking everything it wanted to say to her. None of that mattered however as she finally reached her destination, her eyes setting on the sight of an old familiar figure. Or at least somewhat familiar. The armour was something new to her.

"...Serina. You look different. Done something with your hair?"

Reina folded her arms along her front at that. A defensive stance. Not necessarily aggressive, but she wasn't going to just walk up to Serina with her arms wide open. Not anymore at least.​

 

[Serina Calis]

"How many lies have they told you, how many do they tell themselves?"

Tag - Reina Daival



Serina did not move.

She remained still as stone at the shrine's gate, the ancient, cracked stone arch framing her like the last threshold to a forgotten realm. Her presence was not subtle, nor was it explosive—it was inevitable. Like gravity. Like the pull of tides under a full, dark moon. The Force around her shimmered with a heatless intensity, a presence that didn't cry out look at me, but instead you will see me.

The Light had long since receded from this place. It was not banished—it had been swallowed, folded inward by centuries of history and violence and secrets no Jedi ever wanted to write down. And Serina stood calmly amidst that endless hush, bathed in the pulse of the vergence like a serpent coiled in the heart of a dying sun.

She had felt Reina's descent long before the girl had come into sight. Not just sensed her footsteps, or the ripples of her presence through the Force, but the texture of her approach. The tension. The restraint. The way her heart had warred between silence and storm.

That was how Serina knew Reina had grown.

Her hood framed her face like a crown of dusk, the golden strands of her hair catching the scarce flickers of failing light in the cavern like threads of celestial fire. Her armor was still, radiant with that same glow as before—crimson, magenta, and the occasional phantom flicker of violet. The sigils across her bodice and gauntlets pulsed faintly in the dark, as if drawing breath from the shrine itself. There was a rhythm to her being now, one that hummed in perfect synchrony with the deeper pulses of the Force around them.

And when Reina appeared, standing at the edge of the ancient steps with the fire in her blood and the silence on her lips, Serina turned her head—not quickly, not slowly. Like the turn had always been coming, drawn out over years.

And then she smiled.

Not wide. Not cruel. But the kind of smile that knew things. The kind that held rooms behind it, too many doors to open, too many meanings to choose.

"...Serina. You look different. Done something with your hair?"

Serina laughed. A quiet, throaty thing that vibrated in her chest more than the air.

"I've changed more than my hair," she said smoothly, her voice like silk passed over glass—cool, flawless, and with a dangerous softness that could cut the unwary.

She took a single step forward, the movement fluid, her cape whispering along the stone behind her. She did not close the space between them—no. She allowed Reina to remain at the edge, arms folded, defensive, balanced between approach and withdrawal.

"I see it in your eyes, little shield. You came armed with words today. That's progress. Last time, it was suspicion. Before that, it was hope."

Her gaze didn't just observe. It dissected. The way Reina held her stance—not just the arms, but the weight in her shoulders. The subtle tension around her fingers, even though they weren't on her saber. The discipline. The choice not to reach for violence.

Serina liked that.

"Your Light burns more clearly now," she murmured, her voice tinged with a kind of detached admiration. "Refined. Sharper. I was worried it might gutter out like a candle in a storm."

Then her smile returned, more sly now, curling faintly at the edge.

"But here you are. Brighter than ever. I admit, I was almost hoping the Jedi would snuff that out. Strip you down until all that was left was doctrine and blind obedience. But no. You're still Reina. Still ocean and fire. Still your own storm."

Her words were measured—almost tender, but calculated with surgical precision. They were a slow, curling invitation. Not a demand. Never a demand. Serina had learned long ago that the most loyal followers were not chained—they chose their shackles, believed in them.

She turned slowly, looking back to the great entrance carved into the shrine. Its yawning mouth was layered with black stone, its spiral staircase descending into darkness like the throat of some sleeping beast. The air that billowed from within carried weight—more memory than breath.

"Do you know what lies beneath, Reina?" Serina asked, her voice quieter now, the seduction softened into reverence. "This place... predates the Republic. Predates the Jedi. It is older than the names we wear. And it has waited—for centuries, for someone to listen again."

She ran her gloved hand across the stone arch, fingers brushing over runes too old to translate. They glowed faintly at her touch, responding to her like a heartbeat caught in the stillness.

"I wanted you to come. Not because I thought you would. But because I knew that somewhere inside you, the question still lingers."

She turned again, fixing Reina with that piercing stare.

"Why me?"

A beat. A breath.

Serina's voice dipped, low and almost tender.

"I want you to see something. That's all. Not to fight. Not to argue. Not to convert. Just to see."

Then, with an elegant motion, she extended her hand. The same hand that once reached toward Reina on Arkania. Not forcing. Not grasping. Offering.

Just like before.

But this time, the air felt different.

The shrine behind her seemed to pulse in response. A thrum beneath their feet, a whisper in the bones. The promise of revelation.

"Come," Serina said. "Come see the truth buried beneath their silence."

And she waited.
Always patient.
Always smiling.
Ready to see which shield Reina would raise—
And which one she would choose to put down.

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Underbelly of Coruscant
Tags: Serina Calis
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor

In the past, Reina would have frozen from choice paralysis when Serina stepped closer. Would she back away? Would she step forward to face Serina? Right now? She did neither. She stood still in place, not through lack of choice, but as a conscious effort. She was not as indecisive as she had been that day. Back then, she didn't know where she wanted to be. Where she wanted to go. Who she was meant to be. But she knew now. She was meant to be the Reina that Everest and Valery believed in. The one that radiated Light. That was strong.

An eyebrow raised however as she took in the comment about the Jedi wearing her down. Snuffing out her flames alongside a...smirk. Shaking her head ever so slightly as Reina debated over her words. Running them through her mind carefully as she chose them carefully.

"Blind obedience has never really been my thing. I'd have thought that would be obvious. I'm too stubborn for my own good."

Her eyes settled on the darkness that Serina gazed into, as Reina let out a small yawn at the comment about what laid beneath. Whatever predated the Republic. The Jedi as she shook her head, finally letting herself talk without a filter.

"Serina. I mean this in...the most polite way I can muster. I don't give a kark about history. I'll leave that to the other Jedi. The past is the past. My eyes are settled on the future."

And then Serina did her usual thing. Fixing her stare on Reina who stared back. Instead of crumbling in indecision, she just kept her eyes firmly focused as Serina's words tried to snake their way into Reina's ear like normal...but Reina blocked it out this time. She listened, but didn't let it settled. She had learned not to let those words settle in her heart. Her mind. Reina already had the scars of Serina's previous words on her heart.

"I'm sure you'll forgive me if I say I'm not exactly trusting that you don't have some kind of ulterior motive. Especially since you just said you hoped that the Jedi would snuff out my light."

It could have happened. If it hadn't been for Valery and Everest, Reina would have hated the Jedi. Hated how she had to hold back her aggression. That everything she had learned and acted was wrong. The violence, the willingness of hers to fight and hurt others she deemed that deserved it. But it made sense. The Jedi were meant to be Guardians. Knights were meant to protect. Not go out and kill. Though was she a Knight? She had no armour...and she had let down Everest...She clenched her fist, digging her nails into the palm of her hand once more. It was a bad habit that she was starting to get.

Her eyes darted towards Serina's hand for a moment. A quick thought going over her mind quickly. She knew she had to make a choice and so she made it, raising her hand over towards Serina's...before slapping it away down to Serina's side and then Reina just rested her hand back down to her side. The air was different, Reina could taste in the air and she didn't like. It wasn't something she was used to, and so Reina needed to stay on guard. Even when she was comfortable, Reina had to stay on guard...but there was that small part. The tiny part that wanted to be Serina's friend. So whilst she slapped away the hand, Reina stepped over towards Serina's side.

"I'm giving you a heads up. I'm going to be less tolerant of your bantha poodoo. I didn't have to come here. I could have reported this. But I didn't. Because...there is a part of me that still wants to give you a chance Serina. Don't make me regret it."

She was more firm in her words. Her stance. A dam stood against the waves as she kept her arms folded. Her eyes kept focused on Serina's movements. Reina didn't want to be stabbed in the back, literally. Serina hadn't done anything to deserve Reina's trust, and in fact she had earned Reina's wariness, but even know...She just wanted to trust her.

"...How have you been? You feel...Darker. When I first met you, you...reminded me of something. It was that feeling you get when you're alone. That cold breeze tickling at the back of your neck. It's changed. It's no longer a cold breeze. Standing near you...feels more like standing near a dark Abyss."

Like the darkness of the ocean. It was comforting somewhat in a way for Reina but she knew not to dive too deeply. Her own emotions had threatened to drag her into an abyss that she couldn't come out of. Instead, Reina had to focus on staying above the surface. Keeping things casual. Like...Friends. As they prepared to move, Reina waved down towards her leg.

"...As you may have noticed, I've lost a bit of weight since we last saw each other. I was thinking that I was getting too heavy. Now I have a new fancy fashion statement."
Reina didn't reveal anything more about her new leg. Her Anchor. That was a few secrets she needed to keep up her own sleeves. Or well...trouser legs. She knew Serina would be keeping her own secrets as well, and she could keep them.​

 

[Serina Calis]

"How many lies have they told you, how many do they tell themselves?"

Tag - Reina Daival



Serina did not flinch when her hand was slapped away.

She had expected it.

In truth, she had counted on it.

The motion was not a rejection—it was a statement. Reina had grown clever. Hardened. Serina saw it in the way her jaw set, in the calm beneath her defiance. She didn't strike out in youthful fury anymore. She chose her words. She chose her movements. And even now, standing in a place thick with old hunger and forgotten names, Reina had kept herself upright—not by default, but by discipline.

Serina's hand lowered without resistance, fingers falling to her side like the slow descent of ash in still air. She turned slightly, not away, but with Reina, shifting her body just enough so that they stood side by side, gazing down into the mouth of the shrine as if together they were preparing to enter a dream that did not wish to be woken.

"I'm giving you a heads up. I'm going to be less tolerant of your bantha poodoo…"

Serina's smirk returned, slow and sly.

"Noted."

There was no mockery in her tone—no undercurrent of cruelty. Just the slow purr of amusement, of approval, even. As though Reina had said something Serina had wanted to hear.

"You're right," Serina said after a moment, letting her voice drift like smoke into the cavernous quiet around them. "You didn't have to come. You could've gone to your Masters, could've hidden behind duty, behind protocol. But you didn't."

She turned her head slightly, just enough to look at Reina out of the corner of her eye.

"You followed your own truth instead. That's what makes you dangerous."

There was a beat. A long silence. And when Serina spoke again, her voice lost some of that serpentine fluidity, the edge of it softening into something quieter. Almost human.

"Don't worry. I won't make you regret it."

And oh, wasn't that the most perfect lie.

Because Serina had never believed in regret. Not hers. Not others'.

She believed in turning regret into fuel.

They stood like that for a moment—two silhouettes poised before the unknown. One cloaked in light, the other in velvet-dark shadows. Fire and sea. Storm and silence.

"How have you been? You feel… darker."

Serina didn't answer at first. She closed her eyes, breathing in the heavy air around them as if she were drinking the shrine itself into her lungs. When she exhaled, it was slow. Thoughtful.

"I have been tempered," she said at last. "Refined."

She lifted a hand, trailing her fingers through the air, as though brushing the folds of an invisible curtain.

"This place… it doesn't just call to the dark side. It remembers it. It breathes with it. There are stories here written into the stone in ways the Jedi were too afraid to read. I have listened. And the abyss, as you call it, has listened in turn."

There was no pride in her voice. No gloating. Only certainty.

Serina turned then, fully facing Reina, her expression unreadable.

"When you first met me, I was still trying to be something… palatable. I was trying to balance the darkness with something else. A mask. A compromise."

Her voice dipped, almost conspiratorial.

"But masks wear thin. And compromises… rot."

She reached out again—not to touch, not to press, but simply to gesture toward the abyss before them.

"Everything I was holding back, everything I feared would consume me, I let it in. I became it. Not because I wanted to destroy—but because I wanted to understand. And the galaxy has never offered understanding freely. It takes something first."

Then, that smile returned—this time fainter, tinged with something strangely sad.

"You were always afraid of the abyss. I remember. The ocean, yes—you adored it. But not the depths. Not the places where the light can't follow. You always knew something about them."

Her eyes scanned Reina's face, slowly, carefully. Not searching for weakness—but for refinement.

And there it was.

The edge.

Not a girl. Not anymore.

Something stronger.

Serina stepped forward once more—just a pace—and glanced down at the leg Reina had motioned to.

"As you may have noticed, I've lost a bit of weight…"

Serina's gaze lingered on the leg, then returned to Reina's eyes. There was no mockery in her look—no pity. Only a long, contemplative pause.

"A price," she said softly. "Paid without flinching. That's what makes you dangerous, too."

Then her smile deepened, more nuanced this time. There was warmth in it. Real warmth, or something mimicking it with terrifying precision.

"And more beautiful for it."

She said it simply. Without hesitation. Without flattery. As if it were a truth as fixed as gravity.

Then, slowly, she turned again, the movement smooth as velvet. Her cape whispered against the stone. The air seemed to draw inward as if holding its breath.

"This place will try to speak to you, Reina. Not in words. Not in voices. But in feelings. In old, buried parts of yourself."

She paused at the entrance of the shrine, where the light behind them thinned and the blackness of the stairs began.

"Walk beside me if you wish. Or behind me if you're wary. I don't mind."

A beat.

"But either way… you're already inside."

And with that, Serina stepped into the abyss—

Glowing sigils lighting beneath her feet with every silent, deliberate stride.

Waiting. Always waiting.
For Reina to follow.

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Underbelly of Coruscant
Tags: Serina Calis
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor

Her jaw clenched slightly. Serina was doing it again. Acting like she knew Reina better than Reina knew herself. It frustrated Reina to no ends. The same feeling came with Issar. They were both two sides of the same infuriating coin. But Issar had been helping to teach Reina to control those frustrations, to let them flow out of her. If she had been in somewhere more radiant, she would have went through her typical meditation. Letting the frustrations flow out, and the Light flow in, but there was no light for her to breathe in here. Only the Darkness awaited her here as she steadied herself.

"You're wrong. I am still following my duty. I've said it before. You're my friend. I'm too stubborn to change that. Even if it would probably be better for me."

In a way however, Serina had already made Reina regret something. She had said so long ago that she was a voice inside of Serina, telling her to keep trying. That she believed in Serina and that the Dark Side couldn't keep a hold of her. A flicker of...disappointment? Sadness? flashed across Reina's face as she looked over at Serina. It was clear that whilst Serina's voice was still an ever-present thorn in Reina's mind, it was not the same the other way around. The voice and words she had tried to put into Serina's mind had been silenced. A difference between the two that was making it more obvious to Reina how dissimilar the pair were.

"...You say you were tempered. I think you've been broken. Like me. But...we've both healed in different ways. I let the Light encourage me. To let myself heal naturally. Through the pain and suffering. But...you let the pain and suffering fuse with you."

It was ironic in a way. Reina was talking in the exact way she hated people talking to her in. Acting as if she knew Serina better than Serina knew herself. She was very likely wrong but that wouldn't stop her either way as she folded her arms along her front, less standoffish and more...just to give her arms somewhere to be as she stared ahead in the darkness.

"You never would have needed to wear a mask around me Serina. I know. I tried to have one myself. To keep people at arms length...but Everest and Master Valery broke that mask to reveal the truth beneath it. I care for people. It's new to me. Caring for others. At least, I think it is."

In a way, this is what made her feel like a Jedi. Not fighting out in battle, or saving innocent lives. No. Reflection. Looking upon her growth. She still didn't believe she made for a good Jedi. Far from it. But she also knew she couldn't leave the Order. She knew too much of the Force. Her emotions were too volatile.

"Wrong again Serina. My leg is a price paid in stupidity. Aggression. I didn't think. I rushed into battle, without coming up with backups. Alternatives. I am not dangerous. Nor am I beautiful. I'm stupid. I'm a bull-rancor headed idiot. I know that's who I am. I'm not some Knight of Light like I wanted to be. I can never live up to who I want to be...but I can live up to the Reina that others believe in."

The main reason she could never be the Knight she wanted to be, is because she had failed in one of her main aims. Serina. Reina had said that she'd be there to support the woman. To make sure she would not be alone, but it appears that Reina had failed in that. Instead of being the guiding Light to keep Serina out of the murky depths, Reina had been blind to Serina going further and further into the dark. To a point that she believed that no matter how bright her light shined, it would never reach Serina.

"I've learned how to deal with my feelings. It's something I had to come to terms with after losing my leg. The feelings of being useless. The feelings of...failure. Death."

And with that, Reina moved her arms from in front of her...and held them behind her back, linking her hands together as she prepared to walk alongside Serina, closing her eyes for a moment as she could feel It. Feelings gently brushing against the back of her mind, prodding for the cracks in her defenses. This would be another test of her Faith in herself. In the Light that radiated from deep within her. But with that came Understanding. The very understanding that Serina said wasn't given for free, Reina had gained for herself. Through pain, tears and suffering.

Reina Understood. That for her, to let her Light fade would require more than just her feelings. It would involve actions, and even then, she believed most of her actions were justified. Reasonable. And the actions that weren't justified, she attempted to atone for. She was no paragon of Light. Reina never would be. That was Everest's job. But Reina was a Fighter. She fought for the Light. For the beauty in it. And for the Future of the next generation.

"...I am sorry Serina. I've failed you. The promise I made to you. And the lie. I said I was not interested in turning you back to the Light. At the time, I was not. But I am now, even though it is more than likely too late. But I also proved you wrong. You said I would fall. That I would listen to your voice in my mind. But you were wrong. Your voice is still fresh in my mind. My heart. I hear you. But I don't listen to it. I listen to my own heart."

Urgh. Where was this all coming from? Issar was rubbing off on her and Reina wasn't sure if she liked it. For now, she just turned her attention over towards Serina, narrowing her eyes for a moment.

"...We should be enemies. But it appears that my new found empathy gives me another weakness. Because I can't see you as one."​

 

[Serina Calis]

"How many lies have they told you, how many do they tell themselves?"

Tag - Reina Daival



Serina walked slowly through the threshold, her steps echoing into the cold, cavernous dark ahead as Reina's voice trailed behind her.

She didn't look back immediately.

She didn't need to.

Reina had just fell for the first trap.

Every word Reina spoke—the pain laced in it, the stubborn pride, the grief, the hope, the self-loathing wrapped inside the armor of acceptance—Serina felt it. Like fingers running along the strings of a harp, each note Reina struck told Serina exactly what she needed to know.

And Serina had never been one to waste a good melody.

The shrine responded to their presence in quiet, almost reverent ways. The Force here didn't shout. It whispered. It invited. Subtle winds slithered along ancient walls, disturbed only by their passing. The runes beneath their feet glowed faintly in magenta and crimson as if recalling their old language, humming to Serina's steps and flickering just slightly behind Reina's.

As if the shrine wasn't sure what to make of her yet.

But Serina knew.

Serina always knew.

When she finally turned, it was slow, graceful. Her movements deliberate, like a dancer who never missed a beat, never made a motion she did not mean. Her glowing armor caught the low red light of the shrine, painting her golden hair in sharp contrasts, casting half her face in living shadow.

She looked at Reina.

Truly looked at her.

And she smiled.

A soft thing. Something dangerous.

"You are beautiful, Reina," she said calmly, and her voice rang clear like a bell struck in the dark. "Not because of what you've lost. Not because of what you've endured. You're beautiful because you're still here, still defiant, still fighting."

She took a step closer—slow, unthreatening, as if the darkness was parting for her rather than swallowing her.

"You speak like someone who knows herself now. Someone who thinks she's beyond my reach. You tell yourself that my voice lives in your mind but you do not listen."

She tilted her head slightly.

"But oh, my dear… how closely you listen to refute me."

Another step. Not closing distance in a predatory way—closing space in intimacy. Serina's hands remained clasped gently in front of her, regal and composed. The perfect posture of a queen addressing an equal who did not yet know she stood in a throne room.

"You say you've learned to deal with your feelings. That you understand failure, death, helplessness."

Her blue eyes, so sharp, so inhumanly alive in the darkness, locked onto Reina's.

"Then why do you still grieve the promises you think you've broken?"

There was no sharpness in her tone. No triumph. Only something achingly soft.

"You didn't fail me."

She reached out again—not a grasp this time, not an offer. Just her fingertips brushing briefly through the air between them, as if sweeping the ghosts of their past from the space they shared.

"I've always known you would try. Even when you said you wouldn't. You want to believe you're too late, that I'm too far gone, that your light can't reach me. And yet..."

Serina turned from her slightly, looking out again over the descending spiral of stairs and the pale glow that grew dimmer the deeper it went.

"You're here. Beside me."

She didn't smirk. She didn't revel in it. She let the weight of that truth settle over them like mist.

"Don't lie to yourself, Reina. If you truly believed I was lost, you wouldn't be here."

Another pause. Another smile—gentle, enigmatic, unreadable.

"That's the tragedy of empathy, you see. It blurs the line between what should be and what still could be. You can't hate me because part of you still wants to save me. And you'll never leave me behind, because that part of you is stubborn."

She turned her eyes back to Reina, and there was no cruelty in them. No shadow of mockery.

Only intimacy.

"Just like me."

And there it was. The most subtle hook.

Not a blade. Not a threat. Not even a temptation.

Similarity.

The most potent illusion of all.

Serina's voice softened even further as she stepped to the edge of the next stone stair. The air here pulsed faintly with pressure, like diving beneath the waves, where sound grew thinner and sensation thicker.

"Do you want to know the truth, Reina?"

Her tone dropped lower, more intimate, the kind of voice used for secrets shared in whispered twilight.

"I never stopped hearing you, either."

She let that sit, watching Reina from the corner of her gaze, letting the words echo where her hands had not touched, where her influence was most effective:

The heart.

And then—gracefully, effortlessly—she turned once more.

"And if we are not enemies… what are we?"

The question hung in the dark like a lantern with no flame.

Serina didn't wait for the answer.

She walked on, deeper into the dark, her voice drifting back like a ribbon caught on wind.

"Come. The shrine has more to say."

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Underbelly of Coruscant
Tags: Serina Calis
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor

"Because grieving is a natural part of life. It is natural to mourn that which you've lost. I grieve for my old life. Back on the sea. I grieve for my birth family, that I never knew. But I don't let that grief overwhelm me. I keep moving."

Reina was stubborn, even against the Force as it tried to whisper to her. Tried to wrap around her as she kept her mind steady. She would not budge to it. She would not call upon the Spirit that surrounded her. The runes beneath their feet made no sense to Reina. She had no interest in learning what they meant either. Instead she frowned to herself, listening to Serina's words. That was the nonsense she hated. Trying to poke holes in Reina's logic when she had already poked the holes in herself.

"I told you. I hear you. For that fact alone, I know I'm not beyond your reach. It just means I must be so much more careful listening to you. You might hide it, but I know you want me to Fall. The same way I want you to Rise. I foolishly want to believe that you can shine brightly. Whilst you foolishly believe my light can be extinguished."

She made sure to put emphasis on the foolish aspect, for the both of them. Whilst Issar and Serina were two sides of a coin for Reina, Reina believed her and Serina were similarly two sides of a coin. Always opposing each other. Not able to fully face the other.

"...Serina. You speak as if you know me well. Then you should know, even if I thought you were lost, I'd still try. That I'd bang my head against a wall. I'd sooner knock myself out than accept that something is truly impossible. I am a fool Serina. I am more willing to take on a fruitless endeavour than accept I can't change anything."

The stubbornness inside of Reina was something she hated. She knew shouldn't accept something was pointless. Even if she knew she couldn't be a Knight of the Light, shining brightly, that didn't stop her from wanting to try. To push herself. To go through every single barrier placed in front of her and break them down.

Though she immediately started to put up barriers as she could feel the intimacy coming from Serina. Because Reina didn't believe it for a moment. There was something about Serina that made Reina feel like everything about her was a lie. It was an illusion. An illusion of trust and care. The exact kind that Reina hated, as she clenched both hands, digging her nails in like usual. The frustration bubbling up as she tried to deal with it. This was what Serina wanted. To get under Reina's skin, again. And it was working. Reina's heart had thawed thanks to her time amongst the Jedi...but that also made it so much more of a vulnerable target.

"I don't believe you."

A simple statement. A Lie? The Truth? Who knows. Not even Reina did. A part of her wanted to believe that Serina still heard Reina's voice. But another part of her wondered if her voice could be heard in such a Dark Abyss. Was it just a quiet voice echoing in the nothingness? And finally, The Voice that had stayed quiet spoke up in the back of Reina's mind.

If you don't trust her, why don't you attack her? She has her back to you. If you think she is too far gone, then surely the best place for her is to Be With the Spirit?

It was...different to normal. The Voice wasn't taunting Reina. It was playing with her thoughts. Agreeing with her. Trying to push her down the Path she didn't want to head down. Reina didn't want to attack Serina. Both in her heart, and her mind it wasn't what she wanted. It might have been what was best for the Galaxy. Serina was a danger. She was a serpent. But Reina couldn't find it in herself to do it. Because...

"I've told you already. We aren't enemies, because I still see you as a friend. And as much as I wish I could, I can't abandon a friend. Trust me. I wish I could. It would be so much easier and less painful. I suppose I have the Jedi to blame for this. The Old Me would have happily abandoned you."

Even as she spoke, Reina was walking by Serina's side, indirectly walking in the same stance as Serina. With her hands held behind her, just linked together. Reina did not trust leaving her hands by her side. Where she could reach for her Lightsaber. It was an option that constantly tugged at her mind that she ignored.

"...I wish I was smart enough to tell your Truth from your Lies Serina. Deception has never been my forte. I always say things plainly. I wish we could just have a conversation where I don't feel like you're trying to play me. Or lie to me. But I believe that's all that ever will be. A wish. Never reality with you. Deception is a part of your being. The same way as Aggression is mine. I just...wish I could let my guard down. This is exhausting. This is the same Bantha Poodoo I said I wouldn't stand for. Yet here I am."

Were these the feelings she was meant to be facing down here? It made sense. The despair she felt. The regret. The negative feelings she was not fully experienced with. Aggression was something she could deal with. Sadness was something she had faced. But this was unlike that. She just took a hand and rested it against her chest, to feel the steady beat of her heart. The pulsing of the Flame inside of her.​

 

[Serina Calis]

"How many lies have they told you, how many do they tell themselves?"

Tag - Reina Daival



Serina stopped.

The suddenness of it broke the rhythm of her footsteps, halting just shy of the descending stone ramp ahead, and for a moment she didn't speak. She didn't even breathe.

Her back remained to Reina, shoulders high, cape drifting gently to a stop behind her like smoke that had lost the heat to rise. The sigils beneath her feet flickered once—just once—as if dimming in anticipation.

When she finally turned, it wasn't elegant. It wasn't graceful or measured or shrouded in mystery.

It was sharp.

The pivot of a woman who had spent years wrapping her words in honey, only to have them spit out like bitter ash.

Her expression was different now.

The softness—the calculated affection, the seductive charm—it was gone.

"YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

Serina's eyes were fire now. Not wild, but precise. Controlled fury. The kind born not of rage, but of disappointment so profound it could be mistaken for grief.

"You wish you could let your guard down?"

Her voice cracked the silence like a blade across ice.

"You've never let it down. Not with me. Not once. I gave you everything, Reina. Honesty. Vulnerability. I let you see who I was, long before I was this."

She gestured at herself—not with pride, but with disgust.

"And you never gave me that in return. You never trusted me. You trusted Alana. You trusted the Jedi. People who saw fragments of you and filled in the rest with what they wanted to see."

She took a step forward now, not looming, but pacing. Circling. Her boots tapped with deliberate tension across the stone as her voice lowered into something tighter.

"But me? No. You saw too much of yourself in me, didn't you?"

Her gaze turned toward Reina, sharp enough to slice skin.

"And so you recoiled. Because I was the part of you you couldn't bear to look at. The voice that said you weren't enough. That you could fail. That you might never become the Knight you dreamed of."

Another step. Her hands now at her sides, no longer folded or composed.

"You think I want you to fall? That I sit in some crypt whispering curses into your mind because I enjoy it?"

Her laugh—dry, hollow, furious.

"No, Reina. I warned you. Again and again. But you never listened. You refused to listen."

And now the words were coming harder. Faster. Not screamed—but driven like stakes.

"You lost your leg because you didn't listen to me. Not because I cursed you. Not because I twisted your heart in some grand scheme. You ignored what I tried to teach you—about strength, about danger, about the lies the Jedi would feed you to keep you docile."

"You listened to them when they said you were fine. That it was just a mistake. That it was noble. That it would make you wiser."

She spat the words like poison.

"But what if it wasn't noble? What if it wasn't some 'growth moment'? What if it was just stupidity, Reina? What if you didn't learn anything—because you refused to learn it from me?"

Serina stopped again, the tips of her fingers twitching slightly as if resisting the urge to grip something. To shake her. To make her understand.

"Why is it that you'll accept pain and failure when the Jedi frame it in soft metaphors and pretty mantras—'the flame within,' 'eternal learning,' 'mistakes are a journey'—but not when I say it to your face? Why is my truth always the lie?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper now. And it was worse than the fury.

It was wounded.

"Why is it always everyone else but me?"

There it was. The rawness she had buried beneath years of control. Not for sympathy. Not for leverage. For her.

"I gave you my truth, Reina. Every time. And every time, you met it with walls. With eyes that flinched. With trust held in clenched fists and locked doors."

She exhaled, shaky now, her expression hardening again—not to mask pain, but to crush it before it reached her voice.

"I'm tired of pretending this is a game. Of speaking in riddles and cloaks and illusions."

She stepped forward, one last time—only one pace between them now.

And in the stillness, Serina's final words came with no venom. No seduction. Just cold, bitter finality.

"You say you want to help me. That you care. That you see me as a friend. But you never trusted me. Not once."

A pause. A heartbeat.

"And because of that, you failed me long before I ever had the chance to fall."

She turned again. And this time, the stillness returned.

No flourish. No performance.

Just silence—and a path descending into darkness.

Serina didn't wait to be followed.

She simply walked on.

Because whatever had just cracked in her voice—it was real.

And for the first time in their long, tangled dance… it was Serina who was leaving Reina behind.

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Underbelly of Coruscant
Tags: Serina Calis
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor

Oh no. If this was another trap...Reina was about to to fall for it, hook line and sinker as she raised her hands up defensively, as soon as Serina whipped around to look at her. None of this was what she had meant when she said she didn't believe Serina. She didn't believe Seirna had Reina's voice in her head. That had been all she meant. Serina had points. Plenty of them made sense. But like Serina had poked holes in Reina's logic, Reina had to point holes in Serina.

"I've told you things I haven't told the other Jedi. I'm here. I didn't tell anyone. Those are signs that I've left my guard down around you. Even after I found out who you were. A Fallen Padawan. That I should stay away from you. But I won't. Because...I said I'd be there for you Serina."

As Serina took a step forward, so did Reina. Thoughts were whirring through her mind. An aching was starting to erupt from her chest. It was almost a similar feeling to when she had see Everest hurt. Because deep down, Reina did see Serina as a friend. Someone she cared for, and it hurt her to see Serina like this. Because of Reina. Because of the way Reina acted. Everything she had done was hurting Serina...

"...You're wrong again Serina. Before I joined the Jedi and fully understood them, I resented that part of me that said I would fail. Yes. That voice in the back of my head. But...Valery taught me that it was a part of me. And that's it's okay to have it. That I'll need to learn how to live with it. And I have...I think at least."

Her eyes drooped down to the floor as she thought over her words. Her actions. It was simple for her to say all of this. Words were just that. Words. Sure, they meant more from Reina considering she wasn't much of a talker, but was Serina the kind of person to care about that? Was this all some kind of test? Was Serina like a spider, spinning its web and trying to trap Reina in it? So any thoughts similar to that were rushing through her mind. Telling her that she should run. That Serina was almost as volatile as Reina was...

Reina could see Serina's hands shaking. The urges that must beneath Serina's skin. Did she want to electrocute Reina? Hurt her? No. She...She couldn't let herself think like that. There was one pace between the two, and Reina knew she had a choice. She didn't have long to decide, and soe swiftly stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Serina. Words wouldn't be enough. Reina had to show it through her actions. Her movements as she attempted to pull Serina into a hug, closing her eyes for a moment to hold back a few tears that were forming.

"I'm sorry Serina."

That was it. If this was a trap, that was Reina finally taking the bait. The regret she felt for everything she had and hadn't done.

"I don't know...how to trust. How to let my guard down. Not fully. Alana was...different. And so is Everest. They were more like...family. I think. I don't fully know what family is...It's just...I didn't believe you, when you said you heard my voice. I didn't mean...I didn't believe the rest."

Afterwards she took a step back. She blinked to herself in thought for a moment as if she came upon a sudden realisation. Were these the feelings Reina was meant to be facing? Or were they feelings that Serina was facing that she was taking out on Reina? It seemed so obvious right now. Either way these emotions were real in Serina's voice. Reina could tell that much at least...so as Serina walked off, ready to leave Reina behind...Reina made her own choice. It was possibly one she'd regret. One that would bite her in the back...

She ran after Serina. She chose to follow her into the Shrine, reaching her hand out to grab Serina's wrist gently. As a way to say that she wasn't juts going to let herself be left behind like that.​

 

[Serina Calis]

"How many lies have they told you, how many do they tell themselves?"

Tag - Reina Daival



Serina felt the touch before she registered it.

A hand. Small, calloused. Familiar.

Reina's fingers closed around her wrist—not in force, not in desperation, but connection.

Serina didn't turn right away. She let the moment hang between them like a drawn breath. A stillness settled in the corridor carved from ancient stone and older sins. The air trembled faintly, charged with something unseen.

Not power.

Intent.

She could hear Reina's breath behind her—hurried from the short sprint, but steady. There was resolve in it. Not the flaring, hot-headed kind Serina had once coaxed out with teasing barbs, but the tempered steel of someone who had seen themselves and didn't look away.

And that, more than anything, is what made Serina's lips curl into a slow, hidden smile.

Hook.
Line.
And sinker.

But she couldn't let that show—not yet.

No. The mask she wore now wasn't of mystery or seduction. Not the whispering viper with the slow, sensuous words and calculated softness. That had gotten her close, but not under.

This mask?

This was vulnerability.

Because Serina had learned something in her time watching Reina grow. Pushing didn't work anymore. Reina wanted to resist. Needed it. The girl had grown teeth and temper, and the Jedi had taught her how to leash the former and polish the latter until she glowed like tempered gold.

No—Reina didn't respond to force.

She responded to feeling.

So Serina gave it to her.

She turned. Slowly. The movement was so delicate it seemed like a surrender. Her face was softer now, her expression raw—not broken, but open, like a wound that had stopped bleeding just enough to show the pain beneath.

Her voice, when it came, was quiet.

"You always come after me."

The words were spoken without expectation. Without heat.

As if it still surprised her.

"You could've let me go. Walked away. Proved to yourself that you're stronger than whatever you think I am to you."

Her gaze dropped to Reina's hand on her wrist. Her other hand came up—not fast, not forceful—and gently covered it. Not to remove it. To cradle it.

"But you didn't."

She looked up again, blue eyes gleaming in the gloom of the shrine. Not with triumph. Not with cruelty.

With ache.

"You always stay. No matter how many times I push. No matter how many masks I wear."

She stepped closer, just enough that the space between them felt intimate, without becoming dangerous. Her voice dropped lower, more like a whisper than a confession.

"And you have no idea how much that terrifies me."

That was the truth.

Or at least, the version of the truth Serina wanted Reina to believe.

Because Serina had felt something real—once. And she'd buried it so deeply beneath power and ritual and prophecy that when it stirred now, it confused her. Infuriated her. And that made it perfect to use.

"You said something earlier," she continued, not releasing Reina's hand. "That you couldn't tell my truth from my lies. That maybe you never would."

Her expression shifted—subtle. A soft downturn of the lips. A tightening of the jaw. Vulnerability sculpted like fine marble.

"But here's a truth for you now."

She leaned in, just enough that her breath warmed Reina's cheek, voice a whisper meant for her alone.

"I didn't hear your voice in my mind because you were right, Reina. I heard it because you were the only one I ever wanted to believe could be."

She drew back—not dramatically, but with precision. Just enough. The moment stretched between them like a thread of spider-silk. So thin it could vanish. So strong it could bind.

And that's when Serina let go.

Of Reina's wrist. Of the distance. Of the mask.

Her arms dropped to her sides, fingers loosening like she was releasing something.

"Come with me," she said, not as a command, not as a plea, but as something inevitable.

Her voice regained that quiet strength—measured, purposeful.

"Not to be converted. Not to be manipulated. Just to see."

She stepped back into the corridor, but this time slower. Her posture wasn't regal. It was real.

"If we're going to walk through the depths, then let it be together. If you still want to see who I've become, then I'll let you. Fully. Without games."

A pause.

Then, quietly, without looking back—

"But don't run this time."

And there it was. The final pressure. Not a demand. A challenge. A test to Reina's new sense of self—one Serina had meticulously sculpted since the first moment she called her little shield.

Because Serina knew the deeper they walked, the more the shrine would respond. Not to her.

To Reina.

And Serina would be there for every crack that formed.

Not to crush.

But to catch.

And shape.

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Underbelly of Coruscant
Tags: Serina Calis
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor

"My refusal to leave you doesn't just scare you. There are...other people who know that I've met you. That want to protect me from you. I've told them to give you a chance. I have...belief in you. They said they'll hurt you if you hurt me...So it's simple. I won't let you hurt me."

She knew having Faith in Serina was a bad idea. That it might require her to make a choice that she wasn't ready for. But she wasn't going to give up. Reina wouldn't admit defeat. Not yet at least. It was just how she operated. She was resistant to force, but vulnerable to emotion. To sensitivity. It was something she had very little experience with herself. She could never allow herself to be vulnerable around most people. It was a pain that she had no experience with.

"You know I'm stubborn Serina. That even if I thought you would stab me in the back, that I'd stay. That's not to say I don't have backups just in case. I do. But I will never make the first move against you Serina. I don't want to hurt you. You should have figured that out by now."

Reina knew she wasn't right. She never was. Not when it came to her choices. What she did. She only ever figured out the truth afterwards. The right choice. But that wasn't what she lived for. The right thing wasn't what Reina searched for in life. She was broken, but at the very least even a broken clock can be right twice a day. A broken compass will eventually point in the right direction.

She watched as Serina released her wrist. Reina's eyes falling down to look towards her wrist, as she recalled the knot she tied between her and Everest's wrist. The one that was designed to be her lifeline. To stop Reina from sinking deeper into the depths as she took in a few steady breaths to centre herself. She had been vulnerable. Truly to Serina. Let the woman see that Reina could trust her. But even with all of that, the walls were going back up. The gate to Reina's core would not always be open, it only opened for a short period of time, for certain people. It was closed off now as she took in a steady breath.

"I won't run. As long as you don't give me a reason to Serina. I know the Dark Side is...strong within you now. Here. I know it wants to split open every crack I have. Sticking to me like some kind of parasitic barnacle."

It was at the back of her mind. Pushing. Trying to break through Reina's vulnerabilities. But she wouldn't let them grow. The cracks were there but she would not let them grow worse. Surface cracks were fine, but she wouldn't let it reach her heart. Her core. Her eyes glanced up towards Serina, watching the woman for a moment.

"...I need to find some fancy smancy Light Side place to bring you one day."

A casual comment, though with importance woven inside of it. One day. An implication that Reina wanted to see Serina again, even after this encounter. It was more than likely too late for Serina, similar to how it was too late for Reina to crumble at this shrine. To crumble beneath the Darkness here. Her own Light burnt too brightly. Too warm. Whereas Serina's flames...even if they did still burn, they'd more than likely be absent of the warmth that Reina's had.​

 

[Serina Calis]

"How many lies have they told you, how many do they tell themselves?"

Tag - Reina Daival



Serina walked slowly as Reina spoke, the weight of the shrine thickening with each step like the pressure of deep ocean water compressing bone and breath alike. The shadows clung tighter the deeper they moved, not oppressive but curious, as though the darkness itself leaned in to listen.

Their footsteps echoed softly, reverberating through ancient stone. Beneath them, the runes pulsed now in reaction not just to Serina, but Reina. Not with obedience, but with something more subtle—recognition.

Serina could feel it.

The shrine was beginning to notice her. Not the fallen Padawan. Not the Serpent. Her.

The one who refused to abandon a friend even when her friends begged her to.

The one who embraced pain and bore it like armor.

The one who stepped into the mouth of the abyss and didn't flinch.

It was almost time.

But for now, Serina let her expression remain still. Calm. Thoughtful. She had shown enough fire. The explosion had come and gone—carefully measured, and more effective than even she had expected. Reina had cracked open like a shell beneath the tide. Not shattered—no, not yet—but softened. Exposed.

And Serina had touched that wound. Gently. Reverently.

Now she needed to wrap it in warmth.

"I know the Dark Side is… strong within you now. Here. I know it wants to split open every crack I have."

Serina paused mid-step, her back turned to Reina. Slowly, she looked back over her shoulder, eyes glinting in the low red light.

"And yet you follow," she murmured, voice like silk over stone. "You stand in the center of a place where Light dies and say you won't run. You speak of pain and darkness and still think of me as worth saving."

Her smile this time was small. Sad, almost. But it gleamed with something deeper. Not cruelty. Not triumph. But the kind of quiet satisfaction that came when a chess player watches their opponent make the move for them.

"You say you won't make the first move against me. But Reina..."

She turned fully now, standing still just as the corridor widened—revealing a stone threshold lit faintly by pulsating lines of Sith script, forming a great door that had been sealed for centuries. The stone was jagged and uneven, but beneath it were the barest traces of golden veins—remnants of Jedi architecture attempting to overwrite the old shrine.

It had failed.

The old shrine had survived.

So had Serina.

"...You already have."

The words were whispered as she stepped aside, revealing the door behind her. Her palm lifted. A single gesture, and the shrine breathed—an audible hum shaking the walls as the runes ignited in sequence. The air shivered.

The door groaned open.

Beyond it—

A vast circular chamber, built around a massive vergence. The Force pulsed from it like the slow heartbeat of a dying god. At the center, a stone altar ringed in a spiral pattern of broken chains, sunken hollows where old relics once sat. The walls were covered in carvings, frescos half-erased by time and light—depictions of Sith kneeling not in worship, but penance.

It was not a throne room.

It was not a tomb.

It was a place of confession.

Serina stepped in slowly, her voice soft now, not needing volume in the sacred hush.

"This place… was once a ritual chamber. Not to summon power, but to unmake it. Sith who sought freedom from their own rage came here in secret, hoping to be purified by the vergence—some died. Others went mad. But a few…"

She turned her head toward Reina, eyes shimmering in the dim light.

"…a few survived. Changed."

Her boots echoed softly as she approached the altar, stopping just short of it. Her cape pooled around her feet like ink.

"I didn't bring you here to show you relics, Reina. Or to tempt you. Or to threaten you. I brought you here because this is the first place where I ever felt peace."

She touched the altar gently, her fingers gliding over ancient ash and old scars.

"I come here to remember the version of myself who didn't know which path to walk. Who sat here once, alone, hoping to hear an answer in the silence."

Serina slowly turned back to Reina, one hand still resting on the altar.

"You think I'm too far gone. But I'm not. Not yet."

There it was.

The invitation.

Perfectly framed. Earnest, vulnerable, and deliberate.

Serina stepped aside, gesturing not to herself—but to the altar.

"If you still believe in me, Reina—if you truly believe I can rise—then sit with me."

She didn't wait.

She sank to her knees slowly beside the altar, her armored figure gleaming faintly in the vergence's pulse. She sat in the posture of a penitent—not a predator. Her hands folded in her lap. Her gaze turned to the floor.

Not commanding.

Inviting.

"Speak to me," she said, almost a whisper. "Not as a Jedi. Not as a lesson. Just you. Just Reina."

And beneath that softness—beneath that calm—Serina's mind was sharper than ever.

Because she knew the best manipulation didn't feel like manipulation.

It felt like choice.

It felt like healing.

And if Reina sat beside her?

The shrine would do the rest.

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Underbelly of Coruscant
Tags: Serina Calis
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor

"No. It's not strong within me. Against me. There's a key difference there Serina."

Reina had chosen the Light. She had chosen to stand with Everest when it came to matters of Light or Dark. When it came to making a choice, to decide where she stood, she'd remain in the Light. And that's why she was following Serina now. Because Reina wasn't making a stand in the Dark. She was taking a journey through it, but it would not be her Home. It would not be where she stayed, shaking her head ever so slightly.

"I haven't made any move against you. If anything, every move I seem to do is for you. To your advantage. To what you want. For all I know, I am willingly walking into a trap. Or I've already walked into that trap. Unknowingly or knowingly, it doesn't matter. You know my every move."

As they entered the confessional, she kept her head held up high. Focused on the Flame inside of her. This was not a place she belonged. She didn't want to gain power, nor did she want to lose it. Her rage was a part of herself. Focused. Targeted. To get rid of it would be to remove part of herself. She was tempering herself as she walked further in with Serina, watching as Serina reached a hand on the altar.

"You've came here to remember a version of yourself that is gone Serina. I know that as well as you do. You've chosen your path. You found an answer in the silence. In the Dark. I've found my path through the noise. Through the Light. "

And then it came to the decision. The choice. Did she kneel with Serina and speak to her? Did she have that faith in her that she told Everest she had? Was it all a lie? Did Reina lie? Yes. She did. Often enough. To herself. Rarely to others. Her mind was going faster. More thoughts rushing through as she knew she had to make a choice. She said she wouldn't run away. That she'd face it. And she would. This was like the Trial of Focus all over again as she knelt before the altar.

"You want me to talk to you Serina? I am no-one. I don't see some kind of grand belief in myself. I don't see myself ruling over anyone. Holding power over anyone."

In a way, she was no-one. Her identity was always changing depending on who she was. As a child, she was Reina Daival, the fisherwoman. Then she was Reina Daival, the fishmonger. With the Jedi, she was Reina Daival the Padawan. And with Serina, she was just Reina Daival, the fool.

"Instead I see myself getting into pain. Suffering. Because I refuse to give up. When all odds, all evidence tell me to step back, to run away, I stay where I am. I stay here, with you. Because...you are like me Serina. We both have different sides of ourself that we show to others. Perhaps none of those sides are a lie, but only a part of the Truth."

This didn't feel like healing. It felt like more coming to terms with herself. She could not truly be a Knight of the Light, but there was a side of her that could be. An amalgamation of different parts of Reina jumbled together. Her empathy mixed with her aggression.

"...I became no-one when my parents gave up on me. I lost my name. Who I was born to be. Reina isn't my birth name. It's what I was given by my crew when they found me. We have many similarities Serina, but that is one key difference. I had no parents. You did. Your name is your own. Your identity is your own. You are Serina Callis. And I am no-one. Nothing given to me is my own. My name. My identity. My life. I only have one thing that belongs to me. That makes me who I am. The Fire burning inside of me. The Light that radiates from me."​

 

[Serina Calis]

"How many lies have they told you, how many do they tell themselves?"

Tag - Reina Daival



Serina did not speak right away.

She sat across from Reina in silence, her gloved hands folded calmly in her lap, her posture composed—not stiff, but regal, poised with the effortless elegance of someone who had studied how to speak with her body as well as her words. The pulsing glow of the vergence wrapped her in slow, dim light, tracing her armor in crimson and violet as though painting her in both blood and royalty.

When she finally did speak, it was in a voice gentler than before—quiet, low, perfectly modulated. Not a whisper. Not a hiss. The voice of a teacher, of a confessor, of someone who had been waiting.

"You misunderstand, Reina."

A pause. Not dramatic—precise. Each word placed like a stone in a perfect circle.

"The Dark is not 'within' you, yes. But it is not against you either. You say you walk through it, but do not live in it. But the very fact that you are here proves otherwise."

Her eyes lifted—piercing, steady.

"You engage with the Dark. You entertain it. You touch it without knowing. You let it test your boundaries so you can say you've passed some test. But Reina…"

She leaned forward slightly, her golden hair catching the altar's glow, casting faint patterns across her cheek like living runes.

"That's not Light. That's vanity."

The words fell without cruelty. Without heat. Delivered as simple truth.

"You believe your presence here is noble. That your refusal to strike me is some kind of testament to your morality. But that's not compassion. That's pride."

Now her tone dipped slightly—just slightly—into something more deliberate. Like the turn of a scalpel in the hands of a practiced surgeon.

"You say you haven't moved against me. That everything you've done is for me. And you're right."

She tilted her head.

"But you don't understand what that means."

Her fingers raised—two of them—gesturing softly to the space between them.

"You think you're acting out of selflessness. But you're not. You want to save me. Not because I need saving. Not because I asked you to. But because you need to believe you can. That's the wound you can't stop prodding at."

Her voice dropped again—lower, now. Gentle. But so unforgivingly exact.

"You call yourself no-one. But that is the most dishonest thing you've said."

She leaned back against her heels slightly, her eyes never leaving Reina's.

"You're not no-one. You're trying to be everyone. Everyone's protector. Everyone's friend. Everyone's savior. You carry names like armor and take on burdens you haven't earned because if you stop—even for a second—you'll have to look at the person underneath."

Now she lifted her hand again, index finger extended in slow, deliberate motion.

"You say your name isn't yours. That your life isn't yours. That you've inherited everything. But Reina—don't you see? That's exactly what makes it yours."

She let that hang, just for a breath. And then:

"You don't want to be a Knight of the Light. You want to be someone who deserves to be one. But that's not how it works. The Light doesn't make you worthy. It doesn't baptize you. It doesn't choose you."

Now her voice sharpened—not louder, but clearer.

"You choose it. You claim it. Just like I claimed the Dark. Just like I stood here, once, on my knees, alone, and chose to become what I am. Not because I was broken. Not because I was evil. Because I understood that power isn't about destroying the pieces of yourself you don't like—it's about making peace with the ones you can't change."

Another pause.

"You speak of fire. Of Light burning inside of you. But fire without direction is wild. It doesn't protect. It consumes. The Light inside you—if you ever want it to be more than just warmth for your guilt—must be wielded, not worshipped."

Now Serina stood, slowly, without flourish.

The gesture wasn't dramatic. But there was weight in it. Authority. Command.

"You came here expecting to find a woman in chains, waiting for a savior. You thought your kindness could be a key. But that's not what I brought you here for."

She stepped around the altar with unhurried grace, stopping just beside Reina, looking down at her—not with condescension, but with unshakable calm.

"I brought you here because I wanted you to see the truth."

A pause. Then:

"That the things you cling to—your stubbornness, your martyrdom, your identity as 'no-one'—are the shackles. Not the chains the Dark puts on you. The ones you put on yourself."

She looked away now, gazing out over the chamber.

"You asked me once why I wanted you to fall."

She turned her head slightly, eyes narrowing with something subtle and cruel and cuttingly honest.

"I don't. Not because I'm merciful. Not because I'm sentimental."

Her gaze slid back to Reina like a blade sliding back into its sheath.

"Because you already have."

She let the silence ring.

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Underbelly of Coruscant
Tags: Serina Calis
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor

A soft sigh escaped Reina. A sigh of disappointment. Of shame. She knew this was how it was going to end up going. With Serina making some kind of speech to make Reina lose faith in herself. To crumble. But it wasn't going to work. Not this time. Serina could say what she wanted, but Reina was now a firm believer in who she was meant to be. What she had accepted and what she had pushed away.

"You call it Vanity, I call it a Test. You can twist my words as much as you want Serina, but that won't make them true for you, like how it won't make it true for me."

She linked her hands together for a moment, resting her chin atop them as her eyes focused on Serina's, unblinking. Unflinching at the words that the other Woman was saying. She spoke of choices, that the Light doesn't chose you, but that you have to choose it. And she had. Without that choice, Reina would have followed Serina's every word. She would not have stared back against Serina. No, without that choice, Reina would have truly been someone who followed Serina. Out of a twisted belief that Serina had been the guiding light she had looked for.

"You say that I'm not acting out of selflessness. You are partly right."

Reina's eyes settled on Serina once more as the woman started to move, meanwhile Reina stayed steady. Like a steady stream flowing down a mountain as she took in a breath.

"The Darkness has its own beauty. But so does the Light. I've seen you in the Darkness. How you look. How you act. There is a part of me that wants to see how you look in the Light. I will admit that is selfish of me. But I have faith in you. And I want more people to have that faith. Even if my faith means I got tricked."

Her voice was firm. She was not hesitant in her belief for once. It was one of the times where she believed in herself the most. And even if she was still knelt down, Reina felt taller than ever as she looked at Serina. Not as someone below her, or above her. But as someone as her equal, just on opposite sides

"I've made peace with the parts of myself that I don't like. I'm using them to my advantage. Twisting my aggression to be focused on my training. My anger is focused. My flame rages, but it is controlled. Guided along by the Spirit. You should know. You've seen it already Serina."

An implication that Reina was sure Serina would understand. That Reina knew it was her who said everyone doesn't get back up. But like she had realised in the moment. Reina was not everyone. She was barely anyone. Reina was just a person in the background. She was never the shining star. Down below the surface, she'd never shine as brightly as Valery or Everest. Not at this point in her life, and she was content with that.

"I never thought you were a woman in chains. I understand the justification of the Sith. That breaking their chains will free them. You wanted me to see the truth on me. But here is the thing Serina. I put these shackles on me purposefully. I don't like my anger. My aggression. I put those chains on me, so that it's easier to control. So that when I remove those chains, at my own choice, I am the one in control."

And finally, Reina stood up to her feet. She was smaller than Serina physically, but right now Reina continued to stare Serina down as if they were of equal stature. The shrine may have been absent of natural Light, but she stood strong, radiating her own Light. That was all she needed. She was not the shining star that everyone would look towards, but Reina was her own star.

"I know I have Fallen. I've given into my frustrations. And anger. Time, and time again. But I'm always pulled out of it. Every time my head goes under for even a moment, there is someone to pull me out before I go too deep."

With that, Reina jabbed her finger forward, resting it where Serina's heart should be. Her eyes still focused on Serina's, unflinching.

"You might be too deep for me to pull out Serina, but that doesn't mean I won't stop trying. My friends wouldn't stop for me. So I won't stop for you. You should know that already."

A soft sigh escaped Reina's mouth at that, letting some of the tension fade from her shoulders before her eyes softened ever so slightly.

"You're smarter than me Serina. Stronger. More Charismatic. More experienced. The only thing you don't beat me in is stubbornness." ​

 

[Serina Calis]

"How many lies have they told you, how many do they tell themselves?"

Tag - Reina Daival



She had watched faith rise before. In temples, in battlefields, in the hollow echoes of desperate prayers spoken before the executioner's blade. She had seen people wrap themselves in conviction like armor and mistake it for truth. And now Reina stood before her, radiant not with light, but with belief. The same belief that had been Serina's once, long ago—back when her knees still bent before an altar of Light. Back when she thought the Force had favorites. That it would carry her, if only she was strong enough. That stubbornness and pain were virtues. But faith, she had learned, was not a fortress. It was a house of paper, built in a storm.

Serina did not envy Reina. She pitied her. Because belief, for all its poetry, meant nothing in the face of permanence. Some wounds do not close. Some things do not return. And Reina—naïve, tenacious Reina—still believed that everything could be reclaimed. That Light was not a path but a tide, ready to pull the fallen back to shore. But Serina had drowned. She had chosen to breathe in the abyss. And in that moment of silence, as Reina jabbed her finger toward her long gone heart, Serina didn't see defiance. She saw delusion. The kind that would get Reina killed. Or worse—turned into something brittle and pathetic, screaming in a voice that no longer sounded like her own.

This had to end. Not in persuasion. Not in words. Reina would never listen—not truly. Because pain was the only lesson Reina had ever learned from. It was the only thing she respected. Serina could see it, in her leg, where the lesson had been learned. All those gentle Jedi teachings, all those talks of growth and humility—they had done nothing to stop Reina from walking into fire over and over again. So Serina would show her. Not out of rage. Not out of hatred. But necessity. Truth. She would break Reina. Cleanly. Elegantly. And in the jagged wound left behind, Reina would learn the most important lesson of her life: that some wounds do not heal. That some people do not come back. And that the only thing greater than the Light… is the silence that follows when it fails you.

Serina's lips curled—slowly, exquisitely, like the bloom of some poisonous flower that had waited too long in shadow to unfurl. It wasn't a smirk this time. It wasn't even satisfaction. It was inevitability made manifest. The predator stepping out of the illusion of civility, not out of haste, but ceremony.

"You really should have run, little shield."

The words were silk soaked in venom. And as she spoke, she raised one hand—not toward Reina, not yet—but behind her, fingers gliding over empty air until they found the etched stonework in the wall. With one gentle, elegant press, a sigil responded to her touch, and with a deep, satisfying groan, the doors of the confessional chamber slammed shut. The darkness tightened, pulled in like a cloak being fastened around the neck of the scene.

They were alone.

No more witnesses. No more moral stage. Just two truths made flesh: one of Light that refused to yield, and one of Darkness that had never asked permission.

Serina turned slowly, and when her eyes found Reina's again, they were not cruel. They were hungry. Not with rage, but with a kind of quiet, terrible adoration—the way a storm might admire the flame it's about to extinguish. She stepped closer, and the air changed with her movement, as if it recoiled slightly in anticipation.

"You think this is about proving me wrong. You still think you have something to offer me. Something pure. Something noble."

Her boots clicked with slow rhythm, measured, graceful. Every step a metronome counting down to something Reina didn't fully see—yet. Serina's armor gleamed with the vergence light as though feeding on it. Her cape whispered against the altar as she moved past it, circling.

"But you've misunderstood me, over and over again."

She raised her hand. There was no dramatic gesture, no shout—just a whisper in the Force, a subtle flick of her fingers.

The shadows above them crackled.

A violet current surged between her palms—not chaotic, not wild. This was not the frenzied lightning of some howling Sith berserker. This was controlled. Beautiful. An extension of her will, of her discipline, of her lust for clarity. The lightning curved like a ribbon, trailing behind her wrist as though magnetized to her.

"You want to be the flame, Reina? Then burn."

Her other hand lifted now, mirroring the first. Electricity danced between her fingers like the breath of a god waiting to exhale. The room pulsed with it. The shrine welcomed it. The vergence responded with a low hum, recognizing what was about to happen.

"I'm going to break you," she said, softly—almost reverently.

"Not because I hate you. Not because I want you gone. But because you refuse to see what I am. What you are. You won't listen to words. So I'll write them into your bones."

She took a final step, now standing mere paces away, a goddess cloaked in elegance and entropy, eyes gleaming with desire—not for pain, but for remaking.

"You want to know how I look in the Light?"

Her head tilted, hair cascading over her shoulder like gold pouring over obsidian.

"Then let me show you what it takes to survive in the Dark."

With no more words left to waste, Serina's hands rose—fingers outstretched like a conductor ready to summon the overture of obliteration. There was no hesitation in her stance, no ceremony, no seductive pause for drama.

Just release.

The shrine responded instantly, violently—welcoming her power with a hunger older than the idea of the Republic, or the Alliance itself. The vergence beneath the altar surged upward in tandem with her will, illuminating the entire chamber in a flash of deep, seething violet. Symbols carved by Sith long dead pulsed to life like veins around a living heart.

And then came the lightning.

Not a thread. Not a line. A torrent. A cataclysm of jagged, raw energy erupted from her fingertips and tore through the room, slamming into the stone altar and splitting it in two with a deafening crack. Splinters of Force-charged debris burst into the air, molten lines carving through the floor in branching, angry rivers of power. The shrine screamed. The very air howled.

It wasn't chaos. It was command. Every fork of the lightning was deliberate, woven through with wrath and precision, striking with the intimacy of vengeance and the violence of revelation. It coiled around Reina's position—not striking yet, but claiming space, cutting off retreat, caging the air itself in Serina's dominion.

Her body arched subtly with the motion, lightning crawling over her armor like a serpent made of stars. Her golden hair whipped in the storm, backlit by the tempest of her own making. Her lips were parted—not in fury. In ecstasy.

She hadn't felt like this since Saijo.

Unbound. Unmasked. Unmerciful.

"You want the truth?" Serina roared over the howl of the storm. "Then bleed for it!"

And now she moved—not like a duelist, not like a Sith, but like the storm itself. She stepped forward with purpose, lightning bursting from her again in a pure, unrelenting arc, this time aimed—not to kill, but to break. To sear the lesson into Reina's very soul. Every bolt was a word. Every crack of thunder a judgment.

You are not the flame.
You are the kindling.
And I am what sets you ablaze.

Her voice carried through the destruction, through the fury, through the overwhelming tide of power with such crystalline, devastating clarity that it could've carved through armor alone:

"This is what it costs to survive me."

And still the lightning came.

Because Serina was no longer teaching.

She was remaking her.

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Underbelly of Coruscant
Tags: Serina Calis
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor

Everest had been right. She always had been. Reina had believed in the good of Serina. That there was something inside of her that could be brought to the surface. It hurt to see the Truth. How very wrong Reina was as she saw the Lightning sparking from Serina's hands. It was something she hadn't learned how to deal with. Not yet. Her elements were the Wind itself and the Water that was the life-force of most beings. There was no water for her to rely on. The Wind was barely at her back. Yet she was not Alone. She had the Light that was in her chest. She was not Afraid. Pain was a part of life. This was her punishment for having faith in Serina. But she would not just stand and take it.

Her eyes stayed focused on Serina's. If the Sith had expected there to be any fear in Reina's eyes, there was none as she watched. She could hear the door slamming in the distance. This was going to hurt her. No matter what. Even if she somehow managed to avoid taking any physical damage, this was going to have somewhat the effect that Serina had wanted. Her core, her heart, had gained a small crack in it. Her faith in Serina shattered.

"I do not run. Not anymore, Calis. I was wrong. You don't know me."

With the Light and the Spirit being her only companions in this fight, Reina pulled her lightsaber to her hand, letting the silver blade ignite her face as she took in a breath to calm herself, even as the Maelstrom that was Serina cracked around her. She was her own storm. She would not be blown over. She would not falter. This was who she was now. The role she had to take. Reina was a Jedi. A Guardian against the Dark, surrounded by the Darkness itself yet she would stand strong. She would stand tall. She would not falter.

As Serina's boots clacked along the stone, Reina made her own steps. Staying at a distance from Serina, whilst calling upon the Spirit that flowed through her veins. Enhancing her senses, her reactions, her speed. It was what she needed to do. If she had any chance of being able to even survive against Serina, she was going to need to use every lesson that she had learned. Serina might not be out to kill, but Reina might as well treat it as if this was a duel to the Death. It was not what she had wanted. All the Woman had wanted to do was hold Serina close. To be the person there for her...but this was not something she could stand for.
​

"I'm going to break you,"

"You will try Calis."

Serina planned on remaking Reina, but she would not falter. She was not helpless. She had her own strength. Her backup plan might help, just in case. If she didn't make it back to the Temple, alerts would be sent. To Everest, to Issar. By then, it would still be too late for Reina though. She'd have been scorched by the Storm if she relied on that. Her best chance was to play for time.

Then came the Lightning in full force. Flowing around Reina like a river. She could attempt to stand against it, to block against the Force of the strike but she knew she'd crumble under that. She was not ready to be that kind of shield. To bear the brunt of that kind of attack as she closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. She could not beat Serina in a Force Battle. No. That was never on the table. But there was one chance she had. One strength she had. Her skills with a Lightsaber. She had worked day in, day out, sparring against dorids and the occasional living partner. Even when she had lost her leg, Reina had not taken a break. That was her strength. Her key weapon against Serina.

The space needed to make distance was slowly being taken. The Lightning coiling around her, making it impossible for Reina to run. But that was good for her. Because she would not run. And as the Lightning struck out for her position, Reina moved. Dropping straight into the Ataru stance she had been practising for so long, she used the Force to leap through the air, letting it enhance her physical capabilities. Her speed, her strength. She wouldn't be able to keep this up forever, but she had been practising. It was time to see if practice made perfect for her.

That was one lesson being used in this battle. The other? It was what she had learned from Drystan. To mask her presence, to make it harder to predict where she was going to be. She would not simply let Serina sense her presence in the Force, no. Letting her presence just blend in with the overall feeling of the Force around them, she flipped over Serina. Reina was a fighter. She always had been. And she would be until the day she died.

And so she lashed out against Serina, slashing Pequod in the direction of her. This was not just a battle between a Fool and a Temptress. A duel between Jedi and Sith. No. It was a battle of Faith. Of Belief. To see which would last. And even now, Reina was firm in her belief. She didn't have to beat Serina. She just had to prove that even through pain and suffering, she would stick to the Light.

The Padawan had no words for the woman she saw as a friend. The woman she had wanted to laugh with. The woman who's voice kept her up some nights. The woman she had truly wanted to bring into the Light. No. The were not there anymore. Were they ever there in the first place? Reina was unsure...but she would not falter.​

 

[Serina Calis]

"How many lies have they told you, how many do they tell themselves?"

Tag - Reina Daival


Serina watched Reina move — not with admiration, but with assessment. She was reading a weapon in motion. Every shift of muscle, every twitch of the shoulder, every breath before the leap was a word in a language Serina had mastered.

Reina's Ataru was good. Better than expected. Not just wild or emotional — it had form now. Fluidity. She had trained. And the way she leapt — low stance, precision in her core, her momentum drawn from the hip rather than the heel — yes, this was practiced. And the moment her presence slipped into the sea of ambient Force energy, Serina felt the whisper of another's teachings.

The Jedi Shadows. So they were doing something, she was half convinced they had died out with the betrayal of Allyson Locke.

So Reina was listening to them, Valery most likely.

Not to her.

Even now, even here, Reina masked herself — from Serina. That, more than the blade, more than the acrobatic vault overhead, was the insult. Not because Serina needed to see Reina's Force signature. But because Reina was saying: you don't get to see me.

Serina's lips curled into a slow smile.

So be it.

She tilted her head, catching the edge of Reina's flip. The slash that followed was swift, a textbook diagonal aimed with intent. Not reckless. Not meant to maim. But to test Serina's distance. To mark space. Smart.

But not smart enough.

Because Serina had seen the leap before it began. Not with precognition — but with composure. With the clarity of someone who had broken dancers and duelists alike.

And now she acted.

Her eyes followed the arc of Reina's descent, and her hands moved like a symphony conductor drawing breath before the final crescendo.

Serina did not flinch when Reina moved.

She watched her rise like a spark desperate to defy the storm — silver blade drawn, spirit alight, presence vanishing into the current of the Force as she flowed into her opening stance. The Ataru form. Ah. She had been training. There was strength in the leap, precision in the footwork, intention behind the feint. Serina let it unfold like a painting drawn in real time, admiring the lines of motion even as she prepared to shatter them.

A flare of lightning coursed up her arms, not in release, but in containment — a current wrapping around her forearms like coiled serpents waiting for command. But she did not strike. Not yet. Not with lightning. Not when Reina had found her rhythm.

Break the rhythm.

Serina's right hand opened.

The stone floor beneath Reina's boots exploded.

A wave of pure telekinetic force rippled through the ground, centered at Reina's footing — not a push, not a blast, but a precise disruption designed to unseat her balance mid-air or mid-lunge. A dancer only flew as long as she could land. Serina wasn't targeting the swing — she was targeting the foundation.

"Faith makes you strong, doesn't it?" Serina said, her voice low, cutting through the crackle of power. "But faith has a cost."

She advanced now — not rushing, not leaping, but walking, gliding forward as though the shrine parted before her feet. Her hand turned in the air, and the very air around Reina's body tightened.

A sudden, cold constriction in the Force. Not pain. Not yet. Something deeper.

Force Affliction.

A whisper of the ancient Dark. It reached into Reina's bloodstream, into the very channels of her energy, slowing her, sapping her clarity. Not a poison, but a sickness of the soul — the Force itself made sluggish within her veins. Her limbs might not weaken yet, but her connection would dim, just slightly. Enough to delay. Enough to make a leap fall short. Enough to break tempo.

"You believe because it's all you know how to do," Serina continued, voice still calm, still instructional. "You believe because if you don't, you'll have to admit it. That they left you. That you were alone. That you still are."

Her eyes flashed.

Force Horror.

The power rushed out of her like a wave — invisible but indescribable. It wasn't a shove. It wasn't a scream. It was a vision. Twisting and warping, not in the air, but in the mind. The room seemed to fold in on itself, walls bending, shadows curling into humanoid shapes that weren't truly there. The smell of burning rope. Saltwater over iron. Familiar voices speaking in the wrong tones. It wasn't illusion — it was memory, dredged from Reina's own fear, her own trauma, made manifest by Serina's will.

"Let me show you what it feels like, little shield," she whispered, not cruelly. Tenderly. "Let me show you the truth that lies behind your Light."

She stopped moving now.

There was no need to strike.

The Dark Side was the strike.

She stood still in the middle of the confessional, lightning still dancing at her wrists, the air warping with power around her, her every breath reshaping the space they fought in.

And yet her posture remained almost passive — like a mother waiting for a child to stop pretending. Like a storm waiting for the levee to break.

She would not kill Reina. That was never the lesson.

But if the girl would not kneel in compassion…

She would be brought to her knees in revelation.

 

[Reina Daival]

Location: Underbelly of Coruscant
Tags: Serina Calis
Lightsaber - Pequod
Leg - Anchor

The ground beneath Reina's feet had erupted from the sudden Force. Crumbling beneath her feet, there was no way she'd be able to use her muscles to push against the stone. So she didn't. Instead she clenched her Anchor, her artificial leg as she slammed it into the ground, letting the brittle foot break away whilst also using the force of the Pneumatics to launch herself back up into the air. She was not the same Fool as the one who had lost her leg. She had alternatives to fall upon.

Serina could waste her breath with any amount of words she wanted. Reina stayed silent. Determined Even as her stance had to change. Her balance had to shift. It was fine. She had always had sea legs. She was at her best balance, when things were unstable. Preparing to rush at Serina, when it struck her. The sudden affliction starting to flow through her veins. The slow sickness that was spreading through the Spirit. Throughout Reina's body. Her main strength, the main thing she could rely on was being taken away from. Not even the Spirit would be able to keep her in company, as she felt the Force fading. It was harder to call upon.

And so with the next flip, Reina stumbled. It was the same as when she watched by Katherine. Smashing her face down into the ground, a crunch echoing through the hall. Even with that, Reina didn't stop moving, carrying on with the momentum to get up onto her knee, pushing herself up to her feet. Her nose was broken clearly, blood streaming from it. Great. She'd have to rely on breathing through her mouth. She'd have to keep pushing forward. She hadn't even gotten a touch on Serina yet...

That's when it struck. The Horror. It was similar to when she had faced the Dark Side on Woostri. But so very different. Because it was real. It was not in her head. It was not her drowning in some black abyss of the sea. No. She felt like she was on the ship. It was burning. She could smell the smoke, her eyes wide in shock. How was she meant to deal with the sight? Her stance was breaking. Her knees were getting ready to falter. To collapse from under her. She had to get away, but she couldn't get away from her own fears. She was alon-

Bravery is not the absence of fear. It is the Will to continue to fight against it.

No. She wasn't alone. She didn't have the Spirit. It wouldn't come to her. She could feel the affliction coursing through her, the fear plaguing her mind but...she could not surrender. She Would Not Surrender. She was not alone. She had herself. The good and the bad. It was time for her to change her stance. She could not rely on Ataru, not without the Force. Her stamina would drain too quickly. And so she switched the dual phase of Pequod, letting the blade extend in length as she wrapped both her hands around the hilt.

"We all lie to ourselves Calis. Even you...I do not blind myself to the lies. You can try to show me Your Truth. But it will never be mine."

Her eyes were trying to focus, even as they darted around, listening to the voices around her, the scents around her. The ones that she shouldn't even be able to take it from the fact her nose was broken. There was no chance she'd be able to outlast Serina now. The affliction spreading through Reina's body made sure of that. She hadn't learned how to purify herself, how to heal others. Not yet...but that didn't matter to her.

For as long as she had consciousness, for as long as she had the Will to fight, Reina would not give up. She would not surrender as her eyes focused on Serina through the haze of fear. The darkness encroaching upon Reina's vision as she took in ragged breaths.

"You will not break me Serina Calis. I will not yield. I will not bend. I. Will. Not. Kneel. To. You."

That was it. Reina had figured it out. Serina wanted her to give in. To kneel to Serina. To worship her. To believe in the Lady in the Dark. But she wouldn't. Her face throbbed in pain, as her mind was aching from the horror. There were tears that wanted to well up, but she kept them held back. Reina was a Fool. For thinking that there was good in Serina. But even with that...

"...I don't regret my belief."

A gentle whisper. To herself. To Serina. Because she hadn't given up on Serina. She had tried to take the peaceful route for as long as she could. And it was Serina who had proved that peace wasn't an option. If Reina was to fall today, she could at least keep her head high. She just stood there, doing what she could to keep herself conscious, waiting for Serina's move.​