Private A Tale of Lies

[Kasir Dorran]

Corazona von Ascania

Two weeks had already passed since he first began training Cora at a hidden enclave on Mustafar. A small, skilled team had been handpicked by the Lord Inquisitor to assist with corrupting the Jedi. Often surrounded by both lava flows and darkness, Kasir found himself studying ancient texts uncovered by a Lorekeeper devoted to Wonosa whenever he was alone. Not only were there secrets of the Force within them, but also wisdom that could potentially guide his own personal teachings. Having been chosen to instruct her in combat and Force abilities, he honed both with precision. It felt natural to him. The others areas, taught by members within their occult ranks, were focused on lessons of strategy and deception. It was meant to push the woman to adapt in different ways.

In the early hours, he now found himself leading her away from the walls that had consumed most of their time during training sessions. The air was already heavy with tension, partially due to what still remained of their opposing ideologies. Walking along a narrow path in the rocky terrain, the Sith could hear the distant roars of volcanic activity that occasionally broke the silence.

Today, he planned to bestow upon her a new Force ability, one for only the most disciplined in the dark side. But first, he would test her with a series of questions that would reveal her potential to harness it. For only those deemed worthy could be given such a gift, and he certainly would not risk placing it in the wrong hands.

Even so, it seemed there were still exchanges that sparked between them randomly, causing him to question whether their progress was as steady as he had desired. As the lessons continued since their arrival upon this fiery planet, it was as if he could feel destiny drawing them closer to an unforeseen confrontation.

He just wasn’t sure when.

As they ventured toward an alcove, the Sith eventually turned, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. “Tell me,” he started, his voice laced with curiosity, “have you begun to find clarity in your moments of anger?” His strides were casual. “Do you find your.. allegiance pulling closer the Force, or towards your own personal desires?”

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora cocked her head to the side, considering his question. Over the past two weeks, she'd quickly found that holding onto her bitterness was tiring.

"Clarity hasn't been easy to come by these days," she murmured. It was an honest answer – she wasn't one for lying, nor was she much of a straight shooter. At his following question, a brow went up, causing a bead of sweat to roll down the side of her face. The perks of being sequestered on a volcanic world. "What do you know of my personal desires, Sith?"

She let her gaze drift, but kept her senses sharp. Cora never like the way he looked at her, as though he was trying to pierce into her soul.

The past two weeks had been strange, and aside from a few snippy exchanges during which she tested his tolerance, the Jedi had played the part of a good captive. A part of her wanted to remain steadfast to the Light, while another part of her wanted to do what she had to in order to remain alive. The part of her that might've willingly met the Dark was tangled somewhere beneath the surface, simmering quietly.

Lessons here reminded her more of the courts of Ukatis than they did of the Jedi temple. Deception and subterfuge were mainstays of any noble's path to power, though she'd refused to wield them herself. Here, she was not afforded such luxury for her own personal distastes.

After her gaze panned across the rocky hellscape, it shifted back to Kasir. What had driven him to this point, she wondered.

Cora brought a hand up to wipe the perspiration from her brow. She tsked. It was like walking inside of an oven.

"The dry air here is not good for my skin."

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Corazona von Ascania

The answers were nothing short of a bitter disappointment, threatening to halt their trip to the alcove. With a furrowed brow himself, he struggled to hide his troubled thoughts.

“Clarity has never been easy for you to come by, I imagine,” he suggested, being rather honest himself. The heat here felt no different than the fire that burned within. He definitely wasn’t going to pass up one of her challenges. "Maybe," he continued, his tone lowering slightly, "you are only semi-useful during a clash of blades-- when you have less of an opportunity to sound so foolish."

Cora did have a small flickering flame, one that might prove useful, but it simply wasn’t enough. He would need to fan it.

The second answer was as though she didn’t even understand his question altogether. The one consistent thing with being around the Jedi was the promise of conflict. “We’re clearly thinking different things altogether,” he said in a smooth voice. “As I was thinking more of power, mastery, self determination.” As the words left his lips, he then shifted his full attention, his eyes lowering to her prosthetic hand. It lingered there for several seconds. When he finally brought his gaze back to meet her, there was darkness in his features. “Or even revenge.”

In another galaxy, there may have been a simpler option to test his loyalty. But in the cruel world of the Sith, it took the act of severing her hand on the Bailiff Station to prove himself. It was a moment he even reflected on in later meditations, the feeling from it being hollow. In battle, when the stakes were high, it would have never fazed him. He also knew he would carry the full weight of blame for doing so.

As they eventually reached the alcove, he moved further away from her, creating much more distance than the trail allowed. With a deep inhale, he focused on the storm of negative emotions raging within. With a flick of his hand, sparks of lightning swirled around his fingers.

"I am starting to feel disappointment in you, Cora, and now regret ever bringing you here. Your words have already proven that you are not deserving of any teachings today." There was a pause. He was unflinching, never leaving her scarred face. “You were fearless on New Cov, defending those who most likely haven’t given a single thought about your absence in the aftermath of it all. Did you lose your edge the moment you lost your hand?”

Another pause. Regardless of the outcome from this, he would have to report back to the Lord Inquisitor as instructed. There was still a small chance of making today successful.

"Whine all you want about your skin. Others have suffered far worse than you. Perhaps you should even reconsider your place in all this," he said, shaking his head. "By remaining under my boot."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Kasir didn't lash out, but he was still probing her with little barbs, trying to see what would catch. His words might've stung deeply if she'd liked or admired him.

Cora had only sought his approval as much as she'd need for survival. She had no intention of fully submitting herself to the teachings of the Dark, but that choice was not wholly her own. It had this way of creeping into your mind that felt disarmingly natural.

The Dark leaped from his fingertips in the form of sizzling sparks. Cora grimaced and recoiled, hand going for the ancient blade she'd been permitted to keep. The fractal scar that branched up her arm, a memento from her battle with Sinestra , began to burn beneath the sleeve of her tunic.

She followed Kasir's gaze as it flicked to her prosthetic hand. He might've been right about one thing - much like her time spent with Horace, her edge had been dulled rather quickly. Making herself small for the sake of survival wouldn't work here. The Dark didn't want demure and feeble.

"That's the thing about you Sith - you act as though all suffering begins and ends with you."

Cora palmed the blade of Darth Ukatis, thumb hovering over the ignition. She met Kasir's gaze, staring him down with faintly lidded eyes from the heat.

"What is your goal in all this? Beyond turning a Jedi to save your own skin, I mean."

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Corazona von Ascania

While Mustafar continuously pulsed with dark energy, Kasir remained rooted in his current position, drawing from the very essence of the planet. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as his gaze swept over the Jedi before him. While maintaining eye, there was then a whisper, a warning from the Force, echoing in the back of his mind as her hand drew near the lightsaber. It didn't faze him. His original intention was to bring her here for a different kind of lesson, far from the enclave. It also felt far away from the ears and eyes of the others who served the Lord Inquisitor that were now stationed nearby.

But he also couldn't resist the challenge that seemed to be brewing now. Afterall, his words had fallen upon deaf ears, unable to ignite the fire within her that he so desired.

He wondered if it would take the situation escalating further before he could make her see the truth.

Kasir merely smirked, as if relishing in some sort of confirmation. “I’ve always been blind to the pain inflicted upon others.” He was unfeeling, and the words delivered were devoid of emotion. "And here, it is your suffering now that fuels my strength."

While tension crackled in the air, there was a long drawn out silence while contemplating his next words. “I have spent a considerable amount of time meditating on that very question since we departed New Cov,” he said at last, his voice a low murmur. “It would have been much easier to end it then, or to leave you to your own fate. But then it may have left me unsatisfied.” There was a pause. His tone shifted to something of dark intrigue. “Perhaps I was drawn to the uncertainty of it all, lost in the heat of battle. But now, whether you become an ally or foe, you are simply part of the equation."

His arm fell to his side, the sparks of lightning still playing on his fingers. She, too, could have learned to control such power, but it seemed she was on the edge of another loss. “I must confess that I rather enjoy this little game we play, the balance between light and dark. I'm quite certain it will either destroy or strengthen me, depending on how far I dare to go.”

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

He was enjoying this. The cat did tend to enjoy the game of cat and mouse.

Instead of unleashing a torrent of lightning, he considered her question. Cora, in turn, considered his response. Though Kasir's outstretched hand had fallen to his side, she did not relinquish her grip on her saber.

"You wanted to see what I could become," she summed.

Her series of revelations on Thule seemed so long ago. Perhaps Kasir hadn't looked into her history - a Jedi Padawan, her alignment blurred and on the arm of a Sith Lord. Cora had been standing on the edge, peering into the inky abyss that had promised power. Some days she still felt it, when the spirit of Darth Ukatis insisted on bending her ear.

She'd cast aside her own helplessness in other ways, but it was hard to feel stable and secure on Mustafar. Even the tiny, spindly desert plants she'd managed to grow weren't of much comfort.

Kasir was, strangely, not terrible to her. He hadn't insisted on the sadistic torture that some of his kind delighted in, though some lessons were harsh by necessity.

"I've heard that some Sith delight in corrupting Jedi. Your Master looked at me as though I were a common garden pest," she murmured with a faint note of dry amusement. "How did you come to follow him?"

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Corazona von Ascania

Kasir’ being was attuned to the shifts in the scorching atmosphere, those he could sense even without the need to track her every move. Had she truly desired to attack, there surely would have been a whisper through the Force before it ever began. But still, he allowed his gaze to fall upon the lightsaber hilt in her hands, a source of solace for the Jedi perhaps. Time seemed to stand still as he listened to her words, and eventually, the sparks of electricity left his fingertips altogether. Then, in a more ritualistic motion, he brought his hands together in front of him, one over the other.

Most of what had transpired as of late was strictly training, more often than not under the constant scrutiny of others from the team sent here, ones who undoubtedly sent their own reports back to the same Sith Lord he served.

There was a tinge of intrigue that danced in the dark recesses of his mind as the conversation slowly began to unfold. It was a rare occurrence in the company that typically surrounded him. The Jedi was like an elixir, and he dared to take another sip, much in the way he indulged in the emotions of those often found under his cold gaze. There was a sense of joy to be found in the high risk danger of this situation.

The Sith would answer her question first. “I was but a boy on the streets of my home planet. They found me there, the Inquisition, and with them came a promise. Power and purpose.” A small step was taken forward. “I learned of strength and ambition at the academy, but as time wore on, I began to question certain things. But it was then I found myself influenced by the Lord Inquisitor. Over time I became more drawn to his presence, and teachings.” There was a shift in his tone, and he finally lifted his gaze to meet hers. “True strength is not only a means of physical prowess; it is the essence of self-control, and being able to choose your destiny. And for me, the Lord Inquisitor is the epitome of that strength, the physical manifestation of everything I seek. I openly chose to follow him. It wasn’t out of fear, but respect.”

He thought of the comment about other Sith taking delight in trying to corrupt a Jedi. “Others would have undoubtedly taken greater pleasure in similar circumstances, I'm sure,” he suggested. “Though, I am not a Lord of the Sith.”

Not yet at least.

“What makes you think you’re so special, that you deserve more than a glance?” he murmured. He tried to choose his words carefully, desiring to keep it as more of a conversation, rather than another battle of wits. A single brow arched. “Do you find yourself to be a rare gem amongst the rest of the galaxy? Now I'm curious.”

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The sparks disappeared, and the Sith's hands folded in a more thoughtful gesture. Cora's shoulders fell, releasing some of tension she'd been holding. Her thumb shifted back from the ignition of her saber.

The imminent hostility of the moment had been defused, but that was about it. The deep, ominous sounds of churning lava and sweltering heat were a reminder of how dangerous this still was. To her surprise, Kasir answered her question. It could have been a lie – as Sith were wont to do – but it was a believable story enough. A boy, his latent abilities discovered, nurtured by the Dark. She had to imagine that not all recruits were manipulated to a degree, that some did not need an extra push. Purpose was a tantalizing offer. Power, if not more. There was a time – during her imprisonment on Ukatis – where she'd craved the ability to act more than anything.

Cora idly wondered how things might've turned out for Kasir if the Jedi had gotten to him first, somehow. She tilted her head in a gesture of consideration.

"He had a certain presence about him. The kind of man who does not need to remind those around him of how powerful he is." His aura, dark and terrible yet somehow firm and steady, had done the talking. There was a begrudging respect for Darth Strosius , even if she detested him.

Kasir next leveled a question that had her brows rising in surprise. Special had not been what she was hinting at, but her expression creased in genuine thought.

"Kill, torture, turn," she listed. "Those are the things Sith do with Jedi. When my world went black on New Cov, I figured that I would not wake up again - given how vicious you were. Then, when I came to, it was down to torture or turn."

Cora glanced down at the hilt in her hand. The ancient spirit within was oddly silent, and she imagined that he was observing the exchange.

"I was raised among nobility. For a time, I believed that I was a rare gem, something brighter than the rest, all due to my birth." Her gaze went from the weapon in her hand, back to Kasir. Some Jedi had politely tolerated her when she'd first joined the Order, but a few were quick to cut down the arrogant aristocrat. "But here I am. Captive, sweaty, with a damaged moisture barrier." She tapped her cheek to illustrated her last point, where soft skin had begun to flake.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Kasir’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he thought on the Lord Inquisitor. “Ah, yes,” he said, his voice smooth like silk. "Many may attempt to proclaim power, but with him, it is felt. There are no whispers when he enters the room.”

His mind churned with thoughts of manipulation. And as he looked upon her now, he couldn't help but imagine telling her that she had survived for a specific reason. Something that would further serve the agenda here. But despite the many potential words that danced on the tip of his tongue, none dared to escape his mouth.

In that moment, he was neither ally nor foe; he just wanted to be an observer.

The few details of her past were intriguing. Through years of training and seeking a deeper meaning, Kasir was certain he had never shared words with one with a noble lineage. If by chance he had, it went unnoticed, as such distinctions were easily looked over during his days at the academy. From there, most social interaction was kept towards others in Wonosa. “Circumstances change,” he offered. His voice carried no judgment. “Our real strength lies in how we adapt.”

As the Jedi spoke, he allowed his gaze to trail over the line of her jaw, before pausing where she made contact with her cheek. Also nestled amidst her skin, was a scar, a testament of survival. The Sith merely gave a slight nod, as if recognizing her strength. Turning his head slowly, he scanned different parts of the alcove; it was also to ensure he did not convey the wrong impression, as his only aim with Cora was to complete the task of turning her to the dark side.

“When I left New Cov with you, it was nothing more than a game of domination," he began, his tone steady. "It was simply about power, control, and trying to prove my own superiority. There was even thrill in it before arriving at the Bailiff Station."

Another step forward, the movement deliberate. "That thrill faded the moment I severed your hand. And now, I’m left with something more challenging,” he continued. “I must peel away your layers and uncover what truly drives you.”

He waited, hoping the message would be fully absorbed.

“You think being a Sith is straightforward, but there's more to it than you realize," he continued, his gaze becoming more intense. "We must control our destiny in a galaxy that demands sacrifice. Your journey doesn't have to end in despair, if you’re brave enough to fully embrace it.” Another pause. "Remember, you're bound here until your training is complete."

At long last, his attention returned to her. “Would you betray your allies if it meant saving yourself?”

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

During her brief time on Bailiff Station, Cora had spoken very little. Partially because she was wounded, partially because her fate was left in the hands of a man who despised her kind, and partially because she wanted to keep whatever cards she still held close to her chest. Any shred of personal knowledge could be used against her.

It was not inaccurate to say that the past two weeks on Mustafar had been lonely and uncertain. Kasir and his allies had isolated from all things familiar and comforting. The genuine conversation had drawn her in, lowering her guard.

To hear that Kasir had taken no enjoyment in severing her hand was surprising. She didn't know how to feel about that - insulted, relieved?

"Nothing about this is straightforward. The path to being a proper Sith or Jedi changes depending on who you ask. I figured as much when I…"

She trailed as her line of thought drifted to the Golden Covenent's gala, where she'd been a guest on Lord Nwul's arm. No blood had been shed, but it was clear that the different factions of Sith did not get along.

“I once spent several months on the precipice of a fall. Not quite the same as embracing the Dark, but it was…intriguing.”

Cora cocked her head to the side, examining Kasir's expression. He was attempting to drill down into the core of her drive.

Her eyes fell to the saber in her hand. The spirit was still quiet, but she could sense his presence. Was he pleased? Disgruntled? She wasn't sure why she cared at all. Perhaps, a sliver of her still craved the approval of her patrilineal heritage.

With her hand curled around the hilt, she raised the hilt in front of her, holding it horizontal. Her thumb depressed the ignition, and a bright crimson blade exploded outward. It crackled and hissed as if emboldened by the ember-speckled ashes that fell around them.

"I have seen what the Dark can offer me."

Whether or not she was interested remained to be seen.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Corazona von Ascania

The Sith's thoughts twisted as he mulled over her words; the mention of months spent on the edge sharply contrasted with their mere weeks on this fiery planet. It felt like a silent challenge, a hint at both her strength and resilience. “I don’t see anything intriguing about being indecisive,” he offered.

Patience was necessary in his service to the Lord Inquisitor, but this was something else entirely—a burden heavier than what he normally carried. No longer was he free to roam the vast spaceports and complete various tasks with ease and efficiency; he was now confined to the enclave, bound to certain rules with the company of a Jedi. As he stood there, he couldn't shake the feeling that this mission was far from over, far from complete.

When she ignited her lightsaber, he didn't move; instead, his gaze slowly traced a path from the hilt to the end of the blade, seemingly unbothered. Another challenge, yes, but not one that would come with the usual aggression known to the Sith. “You speak of a fall. But I sense that you only fear it."

His dark robes billowed. Despite the control over his mind and body, even he could feel the pressure from the oppressive heat. A bead of sweat began to trickle down his temple from the brow. Unclasping the saberstaff from his belt, he released the dual blades before him. The crimson light illuminated the contours of his face. At least now, with a weapon in hand, he could finally engage in the language that was most familiar to him– one of violence and destruction.

Kaisr began to pace slowly, savoring each second as he loosened his muscles. There was a menacing rhythm to his movements, much like a predator stalking its prey. When he finally turned to face her, his gaze was just as sharp and merciless as the blades he wielded. “And I can’t help but believe you dread speaking out more than the lurking consequences.”

He then lunged forward in a blurring motion, thrusting a single blade straight towards her leg. The intention was two-fold: to inflict a wound, but more importantly, to throw her off balance and disrupt any footwork. He aimed to exploit her from the beginning of this duel, regardless of which lightsaber form she chose.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

There was something gravely cinematic to the way Kasir approached her, all billowing black robes and predatory body language against the oppressive, violent backdrop of Mustafar's volcanic climate.

This was no place for a Jedi.

He surged forward and her blade snapped low, blocking the incoming assault to her feet. Instead of parrying it to the side, conscious of the fact that he wielded two weapons in one, she went with the force of his strike and allowed him to push her back.

Cora pushed her feet back into the ashen dirt. She would move forward as Kasir continued to press, sabers deadlocked, leaving them face to face. Crimson light cast deep shadows along either visage, giving them both a grim, nearly twisted appearance.

"What happens if you fail?"

His words had been clawing at her mind. Indecisive. Fear. Consequences. There wasn't much in her that could disagree, and perhaps it was the strain of the moment, compounded by the strain of the past few weeks, but her tone of voice vibrated with a renewed ferocity.

"Will he take your hand, too?"

An explosive kick aimed for his chest as she pulled away, followed up by a wide diagonal slash that aimed to carve him from hip to shoulder.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Corazona von Ascania

The intensity of Kasir's gaze was but a reflection of the red aura that enveloped them. Her question lingered in the air as beads of sweat formed on his brow. With gritted teeth he leaned forward, pressing against her blade. Whatever curiosity that lingered mere moments ago had vanished. Now darkness slithered through his tone. "If I fail," he said, the voice low, but calm, "I'll lose more than just my hand."

Kasir fell back, the kick striking his chest like a vibrohammer; air rushed out of him. As he regained his footing, pale digits instinctively curled possessively around the saberstaff. With a swift motion, he reached up to intercept her vicious slash, redirecting the force, and sending sparks flying up in the space between them.

He chose to move back with a push from his lead foot rather than go for a counterattack. The distance between them increased. The twin blades spun around his lithe frame before directing one at her; it was a warning. "However," he murmured, the words would be dipped in venom, "before that happens, you will find out what it truly means to endure pain."

One thing was certain. This duel was more than just a clash of blades; it was a clash of ideologies.

The Sith’s eyes widened slightly, revealing a more primal nature beneath his usual calm composure. It was more than just adrenaline; it was something that gnawed at the edges of his mind, pulling him towards conflict. There had always been an unmistakable wildness to the assassin; it now called for chaos. "Let us finish what was started on New Cov then," he suggested. With a pivot on his heel, his back faced the entrance of the alcove, and beyond that, the unforgiving world of Mustafar.

He then swiftly leaped into the harsh terrain, soaring across a series of colossal and jagged rocks that jutted out from a nearby river. Each jump was calculated, almost playful. The lava below glowed and churned with rage. It felt like the perfect invitation to this reckless dance.

From the recesses of his mind, his telepathic touch would reach out invasively.

<No one will hear your cries for mercy here.>

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

A burst of satisfaction rushed through Cora as her kick struck Kasir's chest, forcing him back. That feeling was short lived.

He shifted away, one burning blade pointed towards her in threat. If the gloves had been on over the past few weeks, he was peeling them off now. Together, they'd been driven to this conclusion.

There was something wild in Kasir's eyes, but it sharpened him. Cora watched as he cleared a river of lava, landing on the dry, rocky embankment. She studied him from across the molten current as if she were trying to make up her mind.

A few long moments passed before she leaped, crouching atop the rocky outcrop that sat in the middle of the pyroclastic flow. The low, violent lighting bathed her softer features in a predatory glow. She inhaled a surge of volcanic adrenaline, the ash and smoke that she'd been choking on for the past two week suddenly becoming a source of focus.

Kasir lashed into her mind, his telepathic assault felt keenly like that of a blade. Cora grimaced, spitting back acid at him.

<You cannot take anything from me that has not already been taken by another.>

Her free hand lifted, palm up as curled fingers trembled with the effort of shearing a chunk of volcanic stone from the jagged rocks. It was as big as his head, and she whipped the projectile at Kasir as she leaped from the outcrop.

Blade held at the ready, she came down upon him in one heavy, sweeping horizontal slash.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Corazona von Ascania

It was easy to detect the hesitation; Kasir even reveled in her doubt, enjoying another moment of weakness from the Jedi. Her words echoed in his mind; though, they were not only heard, but felt, too. Cora's defiance only fueled the urge to break her will piece by piece.

Soon enough, the conjured rock revealed a shift from desperation to aggression.

The Sith simply embraced it, a twisted smile spreading across his face. The electric currents around them were palpable. It was in these moments where he felt truly alive; every part of his being desired destruction and death.

Tightening his grip once more, he positioned the weapon so it would allow one blade to spin outward and intercept the volcanic rock, while the other was prepared to meet whatever she had planned with the lightsaber. The impact was explosive, sending fiery fragments in all directions. The searing blaze from some licked pale skin, leaving burn marks, while others ate holes through the fabric of his clothing. Crimson lines appeared across his face, blood seeping from the wounds. Agony surged through his entire being from all the cuts. But Kasir was born and bred on pain, and he would have never given in so easily; rather, he devoured the sensation and channeled it into his rage.

Utilizing enhanced speed through the Force, he would also use the length of the saberstaff to his advantage. The fluidity of his frame rotated the weapon, bringing it up to intercept the downward slash. As soon as it was redirected, he followed up with a leap backwards, landing on another rock nearby that also jutted out from the lava river. The intense heat flowing all around was but a reflection of the anger within. Kaisr regained his focus and extended a hand, channeling dark energy. With a growl he unleashed a Force push, sending a wave towards the Jedi. The intention was to knock her off balance.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The volcanic rock exploded, showering Kasir in molten fragments and injecting a rush of lava into her veins. He did not seem bothered. With the Darkness hanging over them thick as it was, she could feel the inward pulse of the Force as Kasir breathed in his own pain, burning the sensation as fuel.

He used his blade to deflect her own, sharply guiding her assault away in a manner that left her open. Cora caught herself on her back foot, but didn't have time to recover before she was swept away. A powerful ripple of Force surged outward, pushing the captive Jedi back and slamming her entire body into the rough face of a stone outcrop.

Her world swam, vision flickering into hues of swirling black clouds and bright streaks of magma as she slid do the ground. Her back and shoulders ached fiercely, but that was ignored as a familiar voice whispered from the corner of her mind.

Kill him.​

Cora's eyelids fluttered, head lolling back against the surface of the volcanic rock. Soot darkened golden strands.

Or he will kill you.​

She squinted up at Kasir, trying to sharpen the image of his darkly clad figure atop the rocks.

"...h'...won't," she murmured to the spirit inhabiting the crimson blade.

He will.​

"Be silent!" She hissed, louder. A sudden cough overtook her words, dark red specks flecking onto her chin.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Corazona von Ascania

When she hit the outcrop, triumph began to surge within. The Jedi appeared weak, nothing more than a flickering flame before a much bigger storm, and he savored her struggle; it only reinforced his dominion.

This was a game he had played countless times before with his prey.

Kasir’s frame became a silhouette in the fiery landscape. Shadows clung to him like a second skin, swirling around as though feeding his anger. Separating the distance between them, he felt the stones shudder under his boot. He slowly approached like a malevolent force, meticulously watching her moments of vulnerability; cruel mirth played across his lips.

It promised neither mercy nor solace.

An all too familiar phantom whispered in the Sith's ear. Perhaps it only took one final push into the abyss to lure her ultimate surrender. He could feel the vibrations of his crimson blades as ripples of Mustafar’s dark energy flowed around them; it blended with the lava below. A low scoff escaped him; he couldn't resist mocking Cora’s determination.

Several spots of the assassin's face were blistered; a more grotesque mark was below the eye on his cheekbone. The flesh appeared to have burned away. Both orbs burned yellow.

He took another step forward. "Look at you, Cora," he started. The voice was but a cold murmur. “The light failed you long ago. And yet, the fire is already coursing through you, but you still continue to fight it.” There was a pause, and the air thickened as shadows from him stretched towards her like smoke; they were ready to consume the Jedi. “Do you remember what I said on the Bailiff Station?” His tone darkened slightly. “I promised I would snuff out your light if needed..and it seems that time has finally come.”

The saberstaff was raised above his head; the Sith’s gaze became predatory. Their brief history flashed through Kasir's mind— every fight, every single argument, everything leading up to this very moment. With a powerful swing, he brought it back down in a murderous arc, intending to destroy any last glimmer of hope.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Had she not been on the receiving end, Cora might've appreciated the cinematic excellent of the situation she'd found herself in.

Kasir approached, slow and focused like a predator. She counted his steps. One, two, three…

Even as her mind swam, muffling the churn of the lava river as it crashed against the rocks, his words rang clear. Her head lolled back, squinting through the burn of her eyes. For all she knew, the Sith could've been speaking directly in her head, too.

There is no light here. This is not fabrication; this is fact. ​

…eight, nine, ten…

Kasir's voice, cold and ruthless was in sharp contrast to their surroundings. Cora felt as if she were standing on the surface of a sun. Mustafar threatened to not only burn her body, but to burn away everything about her.

As he drew closer, she began to see where the speckles of molten rock had burn him. Wisps of steam rose from where he'd been struck on his face, but he seemed to pay them no mind.

This is not about allegiance. This is about survival.​

…thirteen, fourteen…

Cora's eyelids fluttered, fighting against the heat and unconsciousness. They were both right - trying to grasp the Light was a fool's errand. Each time she tried, it had slipped through her fingers like said.

Kasir's blade loomed above her in a crimson specter of death. In its eerie glow, she saw her body give a single lurch and her lips parted as a final, rattling breath left her. She saw the lava as it seeped over her broken body, slow and bright like rolling sunlight as it seared her flesh and entombed her bones, returned to nature in the most vicious of ways.

She saw all of that, then gave herself over to the fire.

Fifteen.

As his saber arced down with intent to kill, the red blade of Crenical von Ascania swung upward.

Flesh and bone gave little resistance to plasma. Still, Cora had always felt that there was a change in the way that a blade hummed, however minute, as it bit into skin. A measure of the deadly heat was lifted from her she severed Kasir's strike at the forearm.

With a snarl and the leverage of her free hand against the rock, Cora grappled her way to her feet.

This is what you've become.​

She lurched forward, aiming a series of sharp jabs at his torso, his neck, his shoulders.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Corazona von Ascania

As the strike continued downward, the world around Kasir began to slow. Before it had a chance to land, a sudden searing pain erupted in his forearm, feeling the flesh and bone alike harshly severed. A guttural roar clawed its way up his throat; it was released out of agony. It temporarily blurred his vision. A blaze engulfed his entire being, except the coldness at the end of his arm where there was now a cauterized stump.

The Sith's grip on the saberstaff began to falter before it eventually slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground. As his vision began to clear, he saw the ignited weapon from the corner of his eye.

With each jab, the world of Mustafar faded away and all that remained were the stinging sensations. It was a reminder that this was no longer a test, but a dance of survival. The first one felt almost gentle compared to the next that followed, knocking air from his lungs. But now he welcomed the pain, for it was the same fire that forged him in the Dresuoti, the endless beatings and trials that molded him into a weapon. Now, in this moment, all his training and suffering had led him to this one point.

Something primal ignited within; defiance pressed against the swirling shadows of his thoughts. As Cora lunged once more, Kasir’s instincts kicked in. He slipped his head to the opposite side of the following jab, a move from years spent as a student honing hand-to-hand combat.

Though he was weaponless, the Wonosan assassin’s spirit was unbreakable, and there was zero intention of yielding an inch to the Jedi. With boots rooted firmly in the trembling rock, the Sith tapped into the ground. He could feel the energy pulse through his legs and into his core. His body's rotation was fluid; the stump still rose in a defensive gesture, as if it had a will of its own.

Energy ignited in his muscles, adrenaline pumping through his body to mask the trauma. The kinetic chain continued building until finally coursing through his tricep. His hand clenched into a tight fist, coiled like a serpent. Exhaling a deep growl, he unleashed the counterattack.

The hook was thrown with intent towards her vulnerable blind side, his entire body a blur of motion. The hand cut through the air with relentless force. Kasir’s mind finally cleared; he was fully alive, harnessing every ounce of his pain and anger into raw power.

He already tested her will; now he would test her chin.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Kasir's fist crashed against her jaw. The force of it was enough to send her head whipping to the side and her feet stumbling back as they tangled over one another. Her world span, pain bloomed across her face, and she spat a tooth to the ground. The grip on her saber slackened just enough for the hilt to clatter to the ground.

Her throat quivered as she made a noise of anguished surprise; even the slightest vibration or intent to move the muscles around her jaw was met with another aching flare. Cora could've sworn she'd heard a sickening crack as knuckle hit bone.

If she'd been a spectator, perhaps she would've appreciated Kasir's scrappy nature and ability to twist pain into something sharp and useful. Agony had always been useless to her.

Whether it was agony or anger that drove her now, Cora lunged for her opponent with a primal scream, a sound that was unsettling and atonal from the prim noblewoman. She did not feel herself moving forward, she did not know if she was standing or on the ground, she did not feel herself rushing Kasir as she did so-

All she felt was the tightening of heavy durasteel fingers as she wrapped them around the Sith's throat. They had the physical strength that she lacked, but her flesh hand now wrapped around the other side of his neck - if for no other reason than to feel the warmth of his skin as she made him cold, cold like the hand he'd given her.

Her expression was that of a wild thing as she stared down at him with unbridled animosity. In this moment, he was Horace; the man who'd put her through so much agony and violence for reasons she did not understand, refused to understand.

She spat blood and another tooth into the burns on his face.

Kasir Dorran