Private And not a soul to hear…

[Serina Calis]

Location: Underground Hideout, Rakata Prime
Tag: Quinn Varanin Kaila Irons
Kirie
​

The chamber was still, save for the soft clink of glass against porcelain. The air, thick with the scent of aged wine and the heavy weight of forgotten power, hung around Serina as she slumped further into her obsidian throne. The vast hall, once filled with the hum of activity and the constant vigilance of her guards, felt as empty as her heart now did. She was alone—completely alone in this cavernous, oppressive space. The walls, carved from the deepest black stone of Rakata Prime, seemed to close in on her, the coldness of the stone a perfect match for the icy emptiness that had settled within her.

Her fingers, adorned with glowing crimson gauntlets, grasped the black chalice with a steady, practiced hand, lifting it to her lips as she drank deeply. The wine burned as it slid down her throat, the fire doing little to numb the ache she felt deep inside. There had been too much loss, too much bloodshed. The chaos on Susevfi, the near death of Quinn—someone she had come to care for more deeply than she could admit. That's what she had thought she wanted, right? To destroy, to control, to bend everything to her will. But now, as the alcohol hazed her mind, she couldn't shake the bitter taste of regret.

Her golden blonde hair, once styled with care, now fell loose around her shoulders in disarray, framing her face in waves of softness. But there was nothing soft about the expression she wore—eyes bloodshot, red from a combination of fatigue and sorrow. Her face, still beautiful, was marked with the weariness of someone who had lost everything, yet couldn't find the strength to stop.

The wine flowed freely, the last remnants of her once-immaculate control slipping away with each sip. Her fingers trembled, and the chalice wavered slightly in her hand, but she didn't care. She had long since abandoned any pretense of grace. The shattered remnants of the world she had tried to build around herself now felt like little more than dust in the wind.

Susevfi… it had all gone so horribly wrong. Quinn's near-death, the lives lost, the destruction that had been caused. And for what? What had it all amounted to? Serina had not stopped to think—had not stopped to question the truth of what she had been doing, what she had become. The voice of the Dark Side, the thing that had driven her to this point, had once felt like a call to power. But now? Now it was an oppressive weight that pressed down on her chest, a reminder that she had never truly been in control.

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the tears fall freely, the saltiness of them mixing with the wine. Each drop was like a small release, a breaking down of the walls she had spent so long building around herself. It was the only thing she had left to feel—this emptiness, this sorrow.

"You're mine, Serina." The voice of the entity whispered in her mind again, familiar, but distant now. She didn't want to hear it anymore. She didn't want to feel its warmth, its twisted comfort. She didn't want to be reminded that she was its creation, its tool, and that her every decision, every action, had been shaped by its will. She was the Dark Side. And the thought made her sick.

Her chest tightened painfully, and she placed the chalice down, the clink of it reverberating through the hall like a final toll. Her head fell into her hands, her fingers tangled in her hair. She could feel the cracks beginning to form in the fragile armor of her mind, the mask she had worn for so long slipping away. She had never truly known what it meant to be free. She had never truly been in control.

In the silence that followed, her mind raced through the events of the past months—her death at the hands of the Jedi, the chaos of Susevfi, the deception of the rebellion, the battles she had fought and the lives she had shattered. She had told herself she was doing this for power, for control, for the sake of the galaxy's future, but it felt hollow now. She had failed Quinn, failed herself. She had thought she could hold everything together, but now, the pieces were slipping through her fingers.

She couldn't even remember the last time she had felt joy. Real joy. It was buried somewhere deep inside her, drowned by the weight of the Dark Side, by her own endless ambition.

Serina wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, her breathing shallow and uneven. She had no answers. She had no direction. She was lost, adrift in a sea of regret and self-loathing. The Dark Side had given her everything—power, strength, dominance—but at what cost?

She could hear her own voice in her head, taunting her, mocking her weakness. "You will never be free, Serina. You will never have control. You are mine. And you will always belong to me."

The thought made her shudder, and she gripped the arms of the throne tighter, as if she could anchor herself to something solid in the swirling chaos of her mind. But there was nothing solid. There was nothing left.

"You are my child," the voice murmured, like a distant memory, like a lullaby that should have soothed her but only drove the knife deeper. "You are my creation, Serina. Everything you have done, every choice you have made, it has been because of me. And everything you will do... will be for me. There is no escape from your nature. No escape from yourself."

The words echoed in her mind, over and over, and she felt herself crack further. Her once-strong resolve, her pride, her ambition—everything she had fought for, everything she had strived to become—felt so meaningless now. She had never been in control. Not really. She had been a puppet, and the strings had been pulled by something far older, far darker than her.

A hollow laugh escaped her lips, the sound dry and broken. She couldn't stop the tears, couldn't stop the sorrow that consumed her. It was a devastating realization, one that tore at her from the inside. She was a shadow of something greater, something that had shaped her, molded her, and would never let her go.

She was the Dark Side. And the Dark Side was her.

The hall was silent, save for the soft sound of her breathing and the occasional sniffle that escaped her throat. The darkness in the room seemed to grow heavier, as if it too could feel her sorrow, as if it too was mourning. She sat there, her hands trembling, her mind racing, her heart broken. The chamber around her, once a sanctuary, now felt like a prison, and she, the prisoner, was trapped inside her own creation.

No one was here to see her, no one was here to hear her. And perhaps that was the cruelest part of all. Even in her deepest despair, there was no one to comfort her, no one to share the burden of her pain. She was alone in the most profound sense. Alone in her throne, alone in her mind, alone in her soul.

The tears continued to fall, and though no one was there to hear them, they echoed through the vast, empty hall like a cry lost in the void.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Location: Rakata Prime
Wearing: Armor + Mask
Tag: Serina Calis Quinn Varanin Kirie

"So remind me," Kaila's modulated voice cut through the eerie sounds of the jungle.

"Why are we here again?"

She was taking her role as the "Knight" quite seriously now, dressed in her dark armor and at the very front of the group, placing black steel and sorcerous might between the looming darkness and her companions. Her love, and even precious Kirie too.

The red glint of her polarized flash visor seemed to lighten the faintest bit the deeper they went, allowing the sith knight to see anything which dared even consider harming the trio, to say nothing of her bolstered force senses, casting the faintest chill in the air which only those attuned to the force may feel.

Two of the women Kaila had come to care for had died while she was afield, three if one did not count Quinn's resurrection.

Never again.

Anathemous would not let it happen, not now that she had the power to act of her own accord. Not even Echnos could make her wait, she would find ways to tackle her duties as Governor from afar whenever Quinn was on the move. She had to.

That was not to say however that the young Darth was here only for the princess.

There was a strange sense of familiarity somewhere in the depths of these ruins that Anathemous could not rule out as having drawn her here by some act of fate.

And the more she walked, the stronger it became.

"Kirie... stay close to us, please. There's something about this place..."

"A presence I've not felt since... hm."

​

 

[Kirie]

Location: Rakata Prime
With: Serina Calis | Quinn Varanin | Kaila Irons

​

"Kirie... stay close to us, please. There's something about this place..."

"You don't have to tell me twice." Kirie remarked, ducking under an overhanging frond. "This place gives me the creeps."

Kirie did not like the jungle. The way the vegetation distorted light and sound, hiding everything further than a few paces away in a sea of green. Or how you could always hear the chittering of some creature, or the scrabbling of paws in the underbrush.

The closer they had got to the ruins, the worse Kirie felt. It seemed as if a heavy weight was pressing down on her, and her heart was buoyed only by the sense of safety she had walking behind Quinn and Anathemous, or Kaila- Kirie found that she had trouble straightening out her thoughts when she donned her black armour. The armoured Sith was Anthemous, it was the blonde, golden eyed woman in the bodyglove she thought of as Kaila.

Strange as it was to walk beside them together, there was no denying that both Quinn and Anathemous- No, Kaila, would risk their safety to protect Kirie if she needed it. Still, every snap of a branch or twig made her jump slightly, and she couldn't keep her eyes from scanning the dark, dense foliage, looking for some creature or assailant.

An unfamiliar weight thudded rhythmically against Kirie's hip as she walked. A lightsaber, the one that had saved her life back on Jutrand, granted by Quinn to use again for her protection. It made Kirie uneasy, to carry a weapon capable of such destruction so casually, but to her Sith compatriots it meant nothing, and if she got into trouble, it could keep her alive. So, she put up with the discomfort, even if she didn't realistically think she could ever use it against someone.

The vegetation began to clear out, becoming interspersed with worn black stones that acted as lattices for twisted roots, twisted metal pylons with trees wrapped around them, and structures all but buried beneath millennia of dirt, with surely much more beneath it. Kirie was reminded of the winter months at her home on Weik, when the snow in the valley grew so deep that when you skied across it you were level with the tops of the trees. Then, they broke through into an artificial clearing, a plateau of pitted black stone interlaced with twisting vines. An entrance.

Kirie's stomach dropped, suddenly very afraid of whatever laid in wait beneath them.

"Are... We here?"

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Serina Calis //: Kaila Irons //: Kirie //:
//: Attire //:

No one told Quinn Varanin what to do. She was the Princess of Eshan and the Daughter of Srina Talon. No one ordered her around and commanded her presence. Whatever was given to her, the woman had figured out its usage and followed it to this dark planet of Rakata Prime. History books were scattered with the history of the planet's natives. They bred hunters of the Force, beings that sought to destroy what they couldn't control. It was a disgusting practice, but one that was not native to their species.

They were just the first.

Quinn pushed ahead of the two women; despite her short strides compared to the Dathomirian-hybrid, she remained steps ahead of her. Fury fueled her speed as she could sense the dread ahead of them, the weight of the Force gathering around a familiar being. It was too close to the same aura on Gerwald's command ship. Feeling the familiarity only ignited the woman's anger. Quinn didn't stop to listen to the banter between the two women behind her; she could feel her handmaiden's nerves and her knight's frustration. Both seemed unaware of the swirling thoughts in Echani's mind.

She stopped and exhaled her frustration. "We're here because of that damn thing that masked woman handed us." Quinn waved the device as she turned to face both of them. "Trust me, I'm not a fan of being here either," she regained her composure, knowing her anger would only fuel the others. "The device is tracking something or someone in these halls. Any other time, I'd be excited to be here. The planet has so much history dating back to the awakening of the Force within living beings." Quinn sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose; any other time, this would have been a dream trip - especially for Eira, who unfortunately stayed home.

"Either way, the faster we find whatever this thing is taking us, the better." Quinn paused and looked at Kaila. "Protect Kirie over me - I can care for myself. You're both important to me." Quinn didn't explain more, but the look she gave Kaila should be enough to get her point across. Out of the three of them, Kirie was the one most likely to get harmed; she hadn't wanted the woman to tag along - but she was free and could do as she pleased. It reminded her of what the pair had done behind her back, but the Princess understood the desperation. "Okay, looks like we need to continue down this way; just be careful."

Turning her back on both of them, she continued like a hound to the hunt. She continued down the pathway, and slowly, the dark dread that hung in the air thickened. They were drawing closer, and she stopped with a door in front of her—on the other side was potentially what they were looking for. Quinn exhaled with anger as the aura in the air only solidified who was on the other side.

"I swear to the Force that if that fething masked woman is on the other side of the wall, I'm going to throw her into a wormhole." As she spoke, Quinn already knew what was on the other side, and electricity began to spark at the tips of her silver locks. With the use of the Force, the woman pulled at the door, threatening to rip it out of its doorway.

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Underground Hideout, Rakata Prime
Tag: Quinn Varanin Kaila Irons
Kirie
​

The obsidian throne was a cold comfort to Serina as she languished within its embrace, her form slumped, her posture lacking its usual regality. The deep shadows of the chamber seemed to cling to her, as if they, too, shared in her melancholy. The wine in her black chalice was nearly gone, its bitter taste lingering on her tongue, yet she still held it as though drinking more would somehow numb the weight pressing down on her soul.

Her golden blonde hair fell in disheveled waves around her, catching what little light there was, a stark contrast to the crimson and magenta glow of the intricate runes along her armored bodice. The angular lines of her gauntlets pulsed faintly, flickering with power that she no longer cared to command. The mighty presence of Serina Calis, the Dark Side incarnate, reduced to a silent figure, drowning in sorrow that no one could see. No one would see.

She was utterly alone.

Her breath was slow, measured, though every so often, a quiet sob would shake her frame. She had no words left, no grand declarations, no calculated manipulations. She simply was. And in that stillness, in the abyss of her own mind, she felt as fragile as the flickering flame of a dying candle.

Her fingers trembled as she brought the chalice back to her lips, but it was empty. Just like her.

She let it slip from her grasp, the metal ringing softly against the floor before rolling away into the darkness.

She barely noticed.

---

Elsewhere in the underground fortress, the guards of House Calis stood at attention, their uniforms an immaculate throwback to the Old Republic era—crimson with gold accents and durasteel chestplates polished to a gleam. Their helmets, featuring a sleek design reminiscent of the Republic troops of old, gave them an air of quiet authority.

They had watched their lady descend further into herself with each passing day, lost in the despair of revelation and the madness of her fate. She was a force of destruction, a being without free will, and yet she had always carried herself as if she could defy inevitability. But now, she was breaking, and they could no longer stand idly by.

When the perimeter alarms had quietly signaled the presence of intruders, none of them had rushed to engage in combat. Instead, a silent agreement passed between them. Perhaps, just perhaps, these outsiders could provide what their lady would never ask for—intervention.

Perhaps they were the ones they called for.

Without hesitation, the lead guard, his insignia marking him as a Captain of House Calis, made his way to the entrance chamber. He knew better than to disturb their mistress in her current state. She had not even acknowledged the world outside herself for hours—perhaps longer. She would not know, nor would she care.

The entrance chamber was small, an unremarkable void of black stone with a single speaker embedded into the right-hand wall. A chamber meant to isolate those who entered before allowing access to the sprawling underground complex still under construction. Here, her forces moved like shadows, expanding and refining the hidden fortress that would one day be worthy of the Dark Side's chosen vessel.

The door shuddered violently, the metal groaning as unseen hands threatened to tear it from its place. Sparks crackled in the air, the scent of ozone thick as power coursed through the structure. Then, with a final, agonized shriek, the door wrenched free, revealing the chamber beyond.

And the speaker crackled to life.

A voice, calm yet firm, filtered through the unseen system, reverberating within the stone walls.

"State your names and your purpose." The Captain's voice was measured, devoid of hostility, yet leaving no room for deception.

There was a pause, a calculated moment of silence before he continued.

Yet, despite the carefully measured words, there was something more behind them. A hesitation, a weight in the tone, as if the speaker was debating how much to reveal.

Finally, he added, "We require… assistance. She requires assistance."

He did not elaborate further. He did not need to.

The weight of his words spoke for itself.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Armor + Mask
Tag: Quinn Varanin Kirie Serina Calis

Kaila stopped in her tracks momentarily.

The awakening of the force. It was such a profound statement, for it implied there was a time before living things could feel the force. What a time to be alive, she thought. How liberating it must have been, to be free of immortal tyrants and misguided Jedi, worshipping their own enslavement. A time when man's only limits were his brawn, and his wit. A time when anyone could make something of themselves, if only they had the courage to do so.

...a world where Quinn could not have been.

That realization had changed everything. Her ambitions, her reason for fighting, gone with the light in her lover's eye, loss and love overcoming her hatred of the force. Perhaps then the princess would give her a new cause? She hoped, for she had little else.

"Protect Kirie over me - I can care for myself. You're both important to me."

"I..." she could practically feel Quinn's anger, and she wasn't used to that.

"As you wish, my lady."

The young knight was quick to catch up, staying close enough to Kirie that she may place herself between her and harm, should it come to that. She even offered the girl a little smile, trying her best to exude a calming aura, even if internally she disliked walking into what could be a bloody ambush.

Quinn however seemed more upset by the minute, and frankly, Kaila was unsure whether she should attempt to help, or if she was even willing to risk provoking the adamantly independent echani.

"Masked woman?" she questioned instead.

"The one who spoke of..." her tone turned somber in a near instant.

"...Serina's death."

She became quiet again, until they neared the door. Idly tracing the hilt of her saber with a leather-clad thumb, she watched Quinn make sort work of the door, admiring her strength in the force with the same enraptured attention with which the princess seemed to admire the knight's own physical strength, even if she would've preferred it demonstrated under better circumstances, free of all which vexed her royal love.

"State your names and your purpose."

"Oh dear." she sighed, crossing her arms.

Kirie was given a sidelong glance through the thin visor, the sort which spoke of a show, likely starring a most un-thrilled Quinn.

"This should be good."

​

 

[Kirie]

Location: Rakata Prime
With: Quinn Varanin | Kaila Irons | Serina Calis

​

Quinn was angry, something that Kirie had seldom seen, though she remembered each time very well. The memory of the Princess' Force Storm on Echnos was enough to make her a little worried. Rationally, Kirie knew she needn't be. Quinn would never willingly put her in harms way, and Kaila was loyal enough to step in if things got dicey. Really there was no need to be concerned. So, Kirie chose not to be. She would be the ray of sunshine to Quinn's simmering anger and Kaila's stoicism. She forced a bit of pep into her step, stayed close to the other women and did her best to admire the thick foliage around them, instead of just being scared of it.

"Protect Kirie over me - I can care for myself. You're both important to me."

Kirie couldn't help but flash a slightly cheeky smile in response to Kaila's small polite one. You protect her. Kirie mouthed silently, pointing to the back of Quinn's head as she made her way through the entrance. She even held up an arm and flexed her bicep, as if to say 'I can handle myself'. But she couldn't, obviously. That's what made it funny.

Kirie's smile faded the moment she followed Kaila through the threshold and was swallowed by the tunnel. The heavy weight of dread was much greater here, it hung in the air. A miasma that drained all her humour away at once. The figure on the throne looked as unkempt as she did intimidating. Kirie did not share the same familiarity with this person that Quinn and Kaila did, nor the same ire. That was no surprise, given Kirie rarely left Jutrand, but she still hated the sensation of being the only one left in the dark. She hung back, examining the figure on the throne. She looked small, compared to the grandeur and brutality of the rough stone architecture. She looked sad, too, like the weight of the Galaxy was pressing down on her.

"Who is that?" Kirie asked a little too loudly, and then, on hearing Kaila's words, she whispered. "Oh Stars, that's her"

Kirie had never met Serina, but she knew enough. Hers was a name she'd heard whispered in the dark, a name spoken with sorrow. A tragedy. A travesty. This was the masked woman. The one who knew something, who taunted the grieving.

"This should be good."

"Wormhole." Kirie agreed, loud enough for Kaila to hear, and hopefully a touch too quiet for Quinn to pick up.

Kirie's eyes were immediately drawn to the dented metallic goblet, and the smattering of red droplets beside the throne. She drew a little closer to Kaila, her voice a conspiratorial whisper.

"Is she... drunk?"

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Serina Calis //: Kaila Irons //: Kirie //:
//: Attire //:

The voice interrupted her thoughts. Quinn glanced sideways at the comms device and let the man talk. If she had been more annoyed, even that would have been ripped off its wall. The dust cleared from her tirade, and she looked into the room; the obsidian throne stood proudly, but the figure upon it was anything but. With a wave of her hand, the Force bellowed through the room, shifting the remaining dust from their view. Quinn ignored the voice as she stepped into the room, taking everything in and feeling the agony that lingered in the haze.

The whispers of the pair behind her fell upon deaf ears; Quinn could only hear the whimpers of the woman melted upon her obsidian throne. A bedding that she had created all her own, wallowing in pity. The Princess stepped in, the anger slowly fading as she began to recognize the armor. The bearer of bad news had reappeared to her in a way she probably hadn't expected or wanted. Yet her face was one Quinn didn't expect.

"You." She spoke, her words loud enough for Serina to hear but seething with frustration that only came from being told a lie. She had come upon the Second Legion's vessel to tell Kaila about the death of Serina Calis. Only to leave a device - summoning them as if this was to be a grand reveal. The pain that Quinn had seen ripping through Kaila with the announcement of Serina's death. As much as she could, there wasn't a way for the Echani to comfort the woman she cared for. Moreover, while their time had been brief, she was fond of the Jedi who had come to Jutrand. Almost like a summer breeze, Serina was there, but then she was not, leaving only winter and cold in her wake.

"What game are you playing here?" The Princess questioned, taking another step forward, closing the distance quickly. She wanted answers, ones that she wondered if Serina could even answer. As angry as Quinn was, there was a glimmer of happiness that the tales spun at the grand feast were lies. Serina had lived through whatever ordeal she had told them, sitting here waiting to be found. Was it a cry for attention? The notion confused the Echani; there were ways for her to contact Quinn, and she assumed the same for whatever relation she had with Kaila.

Silence and wallow continued, and Quinn stepped forward until she stood directly in front of the broken Queen on her throne. "Get up," the Princess ordered, realizing Kirie's comment earlier. The smell of alcohol clouded Serina, and Quinn took a step back. The anger instantly dissipated, and she was now more surprised and curious than anything.

"A-Are you drunk?"

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Underground Hideout, Rakata Prime
Tag: Quinn Varanin Kaila Irons
Kirie
​

The world around her blurred at the edges, the haze of wine dulling everything but the weight pressing down on her chest. She barely registered the tremors of the door being ripped from its frame, barely noticed the footsteps echoing through the dark chamber. The voices of the intruders—no, not intruders—were distant, their words distorted and fading into the background hum of her own thoughts.

She had sunk so deeply into herself that even as Quinn's voice cut through the silence like a blade, it barely reached her. The sound of her name—no, not her name, just you—dragged her attention from the void for a moment, but she did not lift her head. She did not look up, did not acknowledge them.

She couldn't.

The air was thick with the weight of emotions that did not belong to her. Quinn's fury, Kirie's unease, Kaila's… Kaila. Don't look at her. Don't look at her. If she met those golden eyes, if she saw what lingered behind them, she knew she would shatter completely.

Quinn's anger was a force all its own, but it was nothing compared to the unspoken things that lay between Serina and Kaila. She had promised to be there. Had vowed to stand at her side. And yet, that action had been the one which set Serina's downfall in motion. Serina made a choice, one that ended with her body lying lifeless in the Jedi Temple, cut down by Grandmaster Noble herself.

But she wasn't dead. Not truly. No, something much worse had happened.

Serina didn't intend to make choices anymore.

"What game are you playing here?"

The words struck her like a physical blow, but she did not react. She could hear the edge of something beneath Quinn's fury—something hurt, something raw—but she ignored it. She ignored everything. The pain, the accusations, the frustration—she let it all roll over her like waves against a shore long since eroded.

She felt the presence move closer, the heat of Quinn's body cutting through the chill of the chamber. Get up. The order was sharp, commanding, but it carried something else beneath it. A flicker of disbelief. Confusion. Concern.

And then, the hesitation.

"A-Are you drunk?"

The corners of Serina's lips twitched, the ghost of something bitter playing across her face. Slowly, she reached out, her gauntleted fingers searching the ground until they found the fallen chalice. She picked it up, turning it over in her grasp as if she had never seen it before. The liquid had long since spilled, a dark stain pooling beneath the throne like blood.

For the first time, she moved. She straightened, though the motion was slow, almost reluctant, as if she were dragging herself out of something much heavier than exhaustion. Her hood remained shadowed over her face, her golden hair spilling forward, catching the faint glow of the chamber.

And then, finally, she spoke.

"Drunk?" Her voice was hoarse, raw from disuse, but still carried the familiar, velvety cadence. She tilted her head slightly, as if considering the question. "Perhaps."

A long pause. The silence stretched, and then, finally, she lifted her head just enough for them to see the dim glow of her piercing blue eyes beneath the shadows of her hood. She regarded Quinn carefully, slowly, as if weighing her next words.

"Does it matter?"

She let the words settle before shifting in her seat, finally setting the chalice aside.

"You want to know if I died."

The way she said it was almost detached, as if she were speaking about someone else entirely. As if the thought had long since lost its meaning. She exhaled, leaning forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees.

"I did."

She let the truth hang between them, let them process it however they would. Then, she continued, her voice quieter now.

"Grandmaster Noble saw to that. The Jedi saw to that." There was no anger in her tone, only a hollow acceptance.

"It saved me." The words came out as if something dark, something forbidden, something horrid had been said.

Her fingers curled against the stone armrest, but her voice remained even, almost tired. "But wounds, you see... they do not heal just because the body is stitched back together. Some things don't mend. Some things never stop bleeding."

She finally looked up at Quinn, holding her gaze for a long moment. "You wonder why I called you here. You think this is some elaborate scheme, some trick, some game."

Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to laugh at the thought. But the sound never came. Instead, she shook her head slightly.

"No. I have no grand plan, no twisted agenda. I didn't even know you were summoned."

She exhaled again, her shoulders slumping slightly. And then, for the first time, she glanced—just barely—at Kaila. It was brief, fleeting, a glance that barely lasted a second before she looked away, but in that moment, something unspoken passed between them.

Guilt.

Regret.

Pain.

"You want answers." She turned back to Quinn. "But I have none that will satisfy you."

Her voice dipped lower, softer, until it was almost a whisper.

"I do not even have answers for myself."