Private DAGGERFALL | Forge of Dominion.

[Serina Calis]

Forge of Dominion.
Location: Dantooine, Old Rakatan Forge.
Objective: Begin again.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Diarch Rellik

The Force is not my master. It is not my guide. It is mine to wield, to shape, to command. Those who hesitate, who kneel before destiny, who whisper of balance—they are already lost. I will not endure. I will conquer. I will forge myself into something greater, and when I am done, the galaxy will not remember the Jedi. It will not remember the Sith. It will remember me.
​

The temple walls bled with the weight of time, their jagged surfaces carved by winds that had scoured them for millennia. Ancient Rakatan glyphs lined the chamber, their cryptic symbols whispering secrets that no living mind could now decipher. They stood as mute sentinels of a fallen empire, their arrogance and ambition carved into stone—monuments to a species that had ruled the stars and then vanished like dust on the wind.

Their legacy was power, and their power had failed them.

The galaxy had long since buried the Infinite Empire, reduced its achievements to scattered ruins and half-forgotten myths. But Serina did not see ruins—she saw a challenge. The Jedi feared what lay hidden in places like this. The Sith, despite their posturing, misunderstood it. They both failed to grasp the simple, inevitable truth: power was nothing if it was not controlled.

And she would control it.

The temple air was thick with heat, heavy with the acrid stench of molten metal and scorched stone. Every breath was laborious, the forge's searing glow casting deep shadows across the fractured floor. Bioluminescent veins of crystal pulsed faintly in the walls, their eerie shimmer reflecting in her sweat-slicked skin, marking her presence with ghostly, unnatural light. This place had become a crucible, a battlefield not of weapons but of will.

And she was losing.

Serina stood hunched over the anvil, her slender frame trembling with exhaustion. Her hands—raw, ruined things—were blistered and bleeding, the flesh torn where the hammer's weight had split the skin. The iron tang of her own blood mingled with the scent of burning embers, and she could see the red streaks it left on the blackened durasteel she gripped with trembling fingers.

Her once-pristine robes were in tatters, their elegant folds now little more than charred remnants clinging to her sweat-drenched form. The threads were stiff with soot and blood, the delicate embroidery along their hems long since burned away. Her golden hair, usually immaculate, clung to her forehead in damp strands, streaked with grime.

But none of it mattered.

Pain. Fatigue. The frailty of flesh. These were lies told by the body to shackle the mind. The Jedi whispered of harmony, of balance, of accepting limitations. The Sith lauded suffering, wore it as a badge of strength, mistaking endurance for mastery.

They were both wrong.

Serina clenched her teeth so hard her jaw ached, her grip tightening around the tongs as she lifted the heated metal once more.

Weak.

The word struck harder than the hammer, reverberating in the cavern of her mind. It echoed in every bone, every muscle that screamed for rest. It rang through her blood like a curse.

She had destroyed Alana Calloway , broken her so completely that it would take her a lifetime to recover. She had failed at the very thing she prided herself on.

She had lost. To Eira Dyn , to Reina Daival , to Jenn Kryze , to Lirka Ka , to Cerrik , to Aadihr Lidos , to Ran Serys , to Valery Noble . She had lost Kaila Irons , been responsible for Quinn Varanin and the fate of Susefvi, murdered her parents. Lied to Dominic Calis , to Reicher Vax . She had taken on things she knew she would fail at, teaching Ellissanthia , someone by all regards would destroy her in a fight. She supplanted herself before Darth Carnifex , found herself at the mercy of Alina Tremiru if not for unholy intervention. She had failed. She had allowed herself to be confined by their rules, their expectations, their blind, stifling teachings. And now, here she stood—broken, trembling, worthless.

No.

Her lip curled in defiance, a growl building in her throat.

She lifted the hammer, arms quaking beneath the weight, and brought it down with all the fury she could muster. Sparks erupted, painting the chamber in flickering bursts of orange and gold.

Weakness is the curse of the unrealized.

The words slithered through her mind, dark and insidious, a whisper from the depths of something vast and ancient. They were not hers. Not entirely. But they spoke to her. They understood.

She had spent too long pretending to have control. Knowledge alone was not power. Wisdom alone was not strength. What use was intellect if it bent to the whims of those who failed to see?

What use was it if you were not intelligent enough to use it?

Serina lifted the hammer again. Another strike. Her arms burned. Her breath was ragged, each exhale dragging through her throat like sandpaper. The Force stirred around her, coiling like a living thing, feeding on her torment.

I was born for more. I was born as Darkness incarnate.

Her knees wavered, but she refused to let them buckle. The fire before her, the agony in her limbs, the sting of blood against steel—none of it was suffering. It was a purification.

Pain had become her most devoted teacher, stripping her of illusion, carving away the weakness that had shackled her for so long. She did not flinch from it. She welcomed it. Let it dig deeper. Let it consume her. Let it change her.

Her vision blurred. The heat distorted the edges of the chamber, the world reduced to fire, metal, and the ceaseless ringing of steel against stone. She felt herself teetering on the precipice, standing on the edge of something she could not yet name.

Her grip faltered. The blade nearly slipped from her grasp.

No.

With a snarl, she slammed the hammer down again. The walls trembled with the force of the blow.

I will not break.

The crystal embedded in the worktable pulsed, its glow intensifying in response. It was as though the temple itself had taken notice, bearing witness to the war she waged within herself.

This place had seen conquerors before. It had known those who sought to claim its power, to carve their names into history. Rakata, Jedi, Sith. Everyone else in the galaxy. All had thought themselves invincible. All had failed.

She would not be another forgotten name in the dust.

The weakness inside her, the limits she had accepted for too long—it disgusted her. She had been blind, believing she could shape the galaxy through words alone. No. Actions spoke louder than words. Power was useless unless it bent all things to its will.

Serina would not endure.

She would dominate.

Her fingers wrapped around the still-heated metal, the searing heat biting into her flesh. The pain was immediate, blistering, her skin charring against the steel. The scent of burning flesh filled the air.

She did not scream.

She tightened her grip.

The pain was nothing. The fire raging in her limbs was nothing. This was the moment she would decide—not just to change, but to become something greater.

The Jedi would never have allowed this. The Sith would have scoffed at it, claiming she did not yet understand true suffering. But they did not see. They did not understand.

She was not here to endure. She was here to remake herself.

The Force surged through her, dark and vibrant, pulsing with the firelight. She felt it sink into her bones, felt it wrap around her like a second skin.

There was still more work to be done.

The fire would burn away what was weak. The forge would shape what remained. And when it was over, there would be no more hesitation. No more doubt.

The galaxy did not yet know her name.

But it would.

She lifted the hammer once more.

She would forge until there was nothing left of the girl who hesitated.

Only she would remain.

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Tags: Serina Calis

Location: Bastion - homeworld of the Diarch

A small beeping was coming from the cabinet near Relliks bed.

Rubbing away the dreams from his drowsy eyes, he would roll over and pull the drawer open. His direct security holo communicator had a call coming through. Sitting up with a striking speed as everything dawned on him - he pulled it out and answered.

"Connection confirmed, proceed."

Typically not one for formality, when it came to secure channels all parties were advised to keep their words short and to the point.

Agent: "My lord, this is sector operative T-96. Objective subject - An intruder has entered the Rakatan ruins in designated plot: DX-143. Triggering the silent alarms stationed at its entrance."

Wondering why something so trivial would be reaching his radar the Diarch awaited further details.

Agent: "Subjective subject - With our sensor activated cameras on site we have glimpsed the intruder. Through facial and posture recognition it has been determined to be a now denounced Jedi - Serina Calis. Directive - to be determined by the Lord. Complete dossier inbound."

"Lord arrival eminent. Terminate line"

With a flash and as quick as Rellik had answered the call, it was ended. Now left alone the Diarch hurried to get ready. Reading over the dossier sent to him about this Serina. - Reaching out to his personal hunter Varis Oakertain to prepare his ship the DSD-Vault to launch into orbit. Grabbing his saber, robes and heading to the naval academy to leave for Dantooine.
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Location: Dantooine - customs and regulations

The international landing zone of Dantooine was something Rellik had not personally seen yet. His brother had been asked beforehand to deal with a pirate menace here but the Co-head had yet to find the time to walk amongst its halls himself. Seeing Diarchy flags fly high over the area was a swelling of pride. As much as he was in a hurry, he was swarmed by reporters and other delegate assigned performers. It was nice to see the peace and security brought forth by mutual cooperation was appreciated. It appears the heads of Dantooine government must have become aware of his arrival.

Pushing through while slowly talking to as many people as he could, stopping for a decent moment to speak to a senator from the Chancellorate. No agents from the network had met him though. Acutely they had decided that all the required information had been given over the call already.

Once outside he was able to get into a speeder that was left for him by design. Requesting the crowd to part from his path and taking off.

Seeing Dantooine for the first time was an amazing site. As an outdoorsman seeing the Kath hounds so prominently put into the books and games of his youth was delightful.

Than, there was the ruins in sight. Semi large pillars leading down a ramp to thick doors. Hoping out the speeder and approaching the aura of the structure alone was impressive. History, both before the time of the Jedi and to now within their ownership of the planet - should be revered. Knowing he was crossing the threshold and these ruins were known for danger, Rellik would take off his outer robe. Leaving him in his beige tunic. To those who did not know him and if it were not for his yellow eyes, he would appear to be a Jedi to most.
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Location: Interior of the Rakatan Ruins

A stale air that had been living down here for millennia wafted into the man. A relic of civilizations gone and pasted was laden upon all the walls in archaic symbols and imagery. The only noise to break up the silence of forgotten gods was a tinging sound. As if someone were working at a smithy, forging something. After his moment of fascination it was time to see who this intruder really was.

Rellik had traveled to the edge of their sector to meet this stateless person. Those who were "Lost" were always great additions to the Diarchy. Wanting to reach out and provide a new home for those who value Freedom, Power, and the decision to live by their means in a galaxy torn by war. Those who have had to go into this pit of violence alone were deserving of solace and Rellik would be the champion of that fight.

Arriving outside the room where the noise of workmanship was taking place, he paused for a moment. The power within was admirable and filled with... something dark and dominate yet some how... new.

Opening the doors and seeing a beautiful yet worked woman. He would call out openly announcing himself. Hands clasped behind his back and posture straight. A smile across his face.

"I am Diarch Rellik. A pleasure to meet you Serina."

 

[Serina Calis]

Forge of Dominion.
Location: Dantooine, Old Rakatan Forge.
Objective: Begin again.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Diarch Rellik

The Force is not my master. It is not my guide. It is mine to wield, to shape, to command. Those who hesitate, who kneel before destiny, who whisper of balance—they are already lost. I will not endure. I will conquer. I will forge myself into something greater, and when I am done, the galaxy will not remember the Jedi. It will not remember the Sith. It will remember me.
​

The forge roared.

The embers burned like dying stars, the flames licking the edges of the ancient Rakatan temple as if eager to consume what history had left behind. The air was thick with heat and the acrid scent of molten metal, weaving a haze that clung to the ruins like a living thing. Shadows danced along the walls, cast in sharp relief by the flickering firelight. The glyphs etched into the stone, remnants of a civilization that once held the Force in its grip, seemed to pulse as though bearing witness to what was being created within.

And in the center of it all— Serina Calis.

Her form was rigid with concentration, her body a trembling sculpture of pain and purpose. Blood trickled in fine rivulets from her hands, streaking her wrists and pooling at her fingertips before vanishing into the sooty metal she held. The hilt of her newly forged weapon was still scorching hot, but she did not let go. She could not let go. The agony was proof of her resolve. Proof that she would not be undone by something as inconsequential as flesh.

Pain was nothing. Pain was a tool.

Her hair, once golden and immaculate, now clung to her forehead in tangled strands, damp with sweat and soot. The pristine elegance she had once carried long gone, melted away in the relentless heat of her own transformation. This was not the temple of the Jedi, nor the Sith. There were no Masters here to scold her, no knights to reprimand her lack of discipline, no Padawans to cast fearful glances at the one who never quite belonged.

This was her temple.

A single, final stroke of the hammer. The sound rang out like a clarion call, reverberating through the walls, through the bones of the structure itself. The forge flared, momentarily flooding the chamber with a searing brilliance before dimming back to its normal, simmering glow.

And then—

A voice.

"I am Diarch Rellik. A pleasure to meet you, Serina."

Her grip tightened around the blade, the sound of her knuckles creaking cutting through the silence that followed his words.

A visitor.

An interruption.

The flames wavered for a moment, as though sensing the shift in the air. The Force, thick and oppressive, coiled around her, whispering in a language only she could understand. This was no mere passerby. This was someone with intent—someone who thought they could approach her, speak to her, as if she were just another lost soul in need of direction.

She inhaled deeply, forcing her breath to steady. Slowly, methodically, she straightened, rolling her shoulders back, the motion exuding a lethal grace that belied the exhaustion lurking beneath her skin. The blade in her grip still shimmered with heat, the raw metal infused with both fire and her own will.

Turning, she beheld him.

The man who had intruded upon her domain stood in the threshold, his presence framed by the darkness of the temple's corridors. Hands clasped behind his back, posture composed, a carefully crafted smile spread across his lips. A diplomat's bearing. A ruler's confidence. He did not approach with the bluster of a soldier nor the arrogance of a Sith. He carried himself as one who did not expect rejection—as one who had already decided he belonged in this moment, in her moment.

Fascinating.

Serina let the silence stretch between them, letting him feel the weight of it, the raw power simmering beneath the surface of her composure. She could sense him trying to measure her, trying to understand what exactly he had walked into.

She would make sure he never forgot.

The heat from the forge had soaked into her bones, wrapping around her like an aura of liquid fire. Her stance was effortless yet deliberate, every muscle coiled beneath her soot-streaked skin. She was not a damsel waiting to be courted by diplomacy. She was not a Jedi in need of redemption.

She was Serina Calis.

And she was not to be approached lightly.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke.

"You know my name."

Her voice was smooth, but there was something coiled within it, something dangerous. The words rolled off her tongue, deliberate, assessing. A queen addressing a petitioner.

She stepped forward, the motion slow, purposeful, and as she did, the shadows of the chamber seemed to bow around her. The flickering firelight reflected off her eyes—piercing blue, cold as a dying star. Her tunic clung to her frame, damp with sweat, torn from the work she had put herself through, but she wore it like battle-scarred armor. She embraced the disarray, owned the exhaustion, made it something regal, something untouchable.

Another step.

"You address me with certainty, as if you belong here. As if you expect something from me."

The Force rippled through the room, a shift in the air, subtle yet undeniable. The temple, ancient and forgotten, had long since been asleep. But she had awoken it. And now, the very walls seemed to lean in, to listen.

She tilted her head slightly, studying him the way a predator studies prey. There was no immediate hostility in her stance, but neither was there submission. There was only power, barely leashed.

"Tell me, Diarch Rellik," she murmured, voice dipping lower, richer, laced with something sharp and knowing. "Do you fancy yourself a man of power? Do you stand before me as an equal? Or are you here to bargain, to offer me something you think I need?"

She let the words linger, curling around him like the embers in the forge.

"Because I promise you, I need nothing."

The final word struck like a dagger. A declaration, a warning.

And yet… something glimmered beneath the surface of her expression. Not acceptance, but intrigue. She had been in this temple long enough to know that the galaxy never sent nothing. It always sent something, someone, with a purpose.

And she would decide whether he was worth her time.

Her grip loosened around the hilt of her blade, though she did not lower it. The heat still radiated from the metal, still hummed with the force of her will.

The silence returned, stretching between them, thick with expectation.

Then, she lifted her chin, daring him to speak.

Daring him to prove himself worthy of her attention.

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Tags: Serina Calis

"When dealing with un-knowns, it is best to put ones best foot forward. Carry peace in one hand and war within another." Kakus - Father of the Diarchs.

The cold echo of eons past reverberated deeper now that the working upon the anvil had ceased. The cracking of worn hands resonating within the chamber as the silence seeped between the two.

woosh*

Light birthed from the flames of the temper and forge flickered. Afflicted as all things are with the force as the aura of the two filled the room. Rellik noting that it coagulated around the woman and grew in power. A response to his presence during her work.

As she come to the realization she was not alone several things became clear. She was dangerous. Only made more paramount in the fluid dance of her movement. A stalking beast, analyzing prey.

So he stood, offering peace with his hands behind his back. Yet holding war as his blade cradled within his fingers. Lessons from a bygone era of his father. - A man fated for destiny must must be prepared to fight the river that carries him, or he will be drowned.

Force clouding his nature, the only outward feelings left were his power alone. Oddly not Dark nor light, simply there.

The scars on his upper torso began to ache, a sign of his mind knowing more might come soon. He felt the coming of a battle within the silence. Whether it be to test his value or for interrupting her work, it was on a knifes edge from beginning.

"You know my name."

Spoke the viper, an initial reaction had finally broke the silence. Beyond just a gaze there was slow deliberate movement as she stalked towards him.

It was the physical nature of something that only knew battle - coiled and ready to strike. As even a serpent must kill to survive. So he stood resolute. Hands behind his back, as a bird of prey. Watching and determining if this person might become his meal.

"You address me with certainty, as if you belong here. As if you expect something from me."

In his mind he had the pride of Diarch. "This planet is mine. I belong anywhere upon it." The words never spoken but felt. The galaxy made small as two people turned these ruins into their own theater. The walls being their audience.

As a curious cat might do watching their hunt, she tilted her head and than spoke.

"Do you fancy yourself a man of power? Do you stand before me as an equal? Or are you here to bargain, to offer me something you think I need?"

He paused, watching her muscles in the case of an attack. Merely gazing at her as she spoke.

"Because I promise you, I need nothing."

Rellik stood resolute in his conviction and strength. He did not need to interrupt or prod her ideals.

Letting her vent her nature upon him he waited. Until she rose her chin to signify she had finished. Tilting his head slightly down to look at Serina, he spoke. Calmly yet with power.

"Needs, Power, Equal... Striving for each is insignificant. I have seen the needs of many be turned to ash, the power of gods used as tools, and my equals... I have seen them believe themselves dragons only to be snakes."

Cold yellow eyes gazed beyond the blond haired woman. As dead as his eyes were, the evidence of laugh lines (Lateral Canthal/crows feet) were apparent. He might revel in evil, but he was still a man. He stood unperturbed, as if he knew he was meant to be in this moment.

"The force has drawn my fate to your doorstep. To these ruins, and your work within. I have not come to promise you things. I have come to find destiny."

The stature of Rellik was dominant. The longing shadow encroaching all within. The small room slowly becoming more and more of a pinhole at which only two people existed.

He is just a man of his own will, wanting to achieve what he wants.

"I see futures in you. It is your choice to allow them to thrive or end here. Choose wisely."

His stance had not changed. Nothing beyond the tilt of his head or the tone of his voice had moved much. He held the patience of a stone and the will of stars.

 

[Serina Calis]

Forge of Dominion.
Location: Dantooine, Old Rakatan Forge.
Objective: Begin again.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Diarch Rellik

The Force is not my master. It is not my guide. It is mine to wield, to shape, to command. Those who hesitate, who kneel before destiny, who whisper of balance—they are already lost. I will not endure. I will conquer. I will forge myself into something greater, and when I am done, the galaxy will not remember the Jedi. It will not remember the Sith. It will remember me.
​

The moment stretched between them, drawn out like the final note of a dirge, ringing through the hollowed ruins. The forge's fire flickered, casting jagged shadows across the walls, twisting the ancient Rakatan glyphs into something almost alive, as if the temple itself listened, bearing silent witness to the confrontation of will between two figures who did not belong—and yet, belonged completely.

Serina Calis stood unmoving, her sweat-slicked skin gleaming in the low light, her chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. She felt his words settle around her, not as chains to restrain but as something deeper, something more insidious. Fate. Destiny. Futures. She knew people who had spoken of such things before. Believers. Dreamers. Fools.

And yet…

There was no mistaking the weight of his presence. He did not waver, did not recoil. He spoke as though the force of his will alone could dictate reality, as though his existence was inevitable. She studied him, seeing the remnants of war in his stance—the careful way he balanced his weight, the way his muscles shifted beneath his tunic, ready to respond. A predator meeting another predator, each waiting to see who would strike first.

Her lips curled, ever so slightly.

"You see futures in me?" she echoed, her voice smooth, dipping lower, like the brush of silk over steel. "You think I am something to be guided, to be drawn toward fate like some lost soul waiting to be told what she is?"

She exhaled, a slow, steady breath, and when she spoke again, her words coiled around the air between them, thick with a power that was neither light nor dark—but something deeper.

"I am not something you find, Rellik."

She took a step closer, her bare feet soundless against the cold stone. The heat from the forge warped the space between them, and for a fleeting moment, she almost seemed to shimmer, like a mirage in the desert.

"I am not a possibility. Not a path yet to be chosen."

The shadows pulsed—loud.

"I am it."

The words rang through the chamber, not shouted, not whispered, but spoken with the certainty of 0ne who only sees something as an absolute truth.

The fire did not crackle. The shadows did not move. The very air seemed to hold its breath.

"The thing your people fear in the dark, the thing the Jedi whisper of when they close their eyes at night, the thing the Sith pretend they understand but never truly can."

Her fingers flexed, the dried blood on her palms cracking as she moved, leaving crimson trails along her fingertips.

"I am the storm that tears down the old. The force does not guide me—I command it. It is my blade. My weapon. My servant. It bends because I will it to."

The flames surged behind her, as if in response.

"You speak of futures. You speak of choice."

Her blue eyes gleamed beneath the flickering light, filled with something ancient, something untamed.

"Then understand this, Diarch: You are not offering me a future. You are standing in the presence of what is inevitable."

And then—

A warning cry.

A high-pitched, metallic shriek tore through the temple, ancient systems activating with a sudden surge of energy. The ground trembled beneath them, the very bones of the ruins coming alive as alarms howled through the stone.

And then came the droids.

From the deep corridors of the Rakatan ruins, they emerged. Tall, skeletal frames, their rusted durasteel bodies still lethal despite the ages. Their glowing photoreceptors flared to life, shifting from dormant amber to a pulsing, predatory red. Their limbs moved with a mechanical grace, long fingers twitching as if testing ancient servos. The temple, recognizing intruders, had awakened its defenders.

And they did not hesitate.

Blaster fire erupted in the chamber, the first volley scorching the ground where Serina had stood a mere second before—but she was already moving.

Lightning-fast.

A blur of motion, a ripple of shadow against firelight, she twisted—and then the weapon was in her hands.

Ebon Requiem.

The halberd was not drawn—it was summoned, pulled to her grip with an ease that spoke of deep familiarity, the way a warrior's hand knows the weight of their sword even before it touches their fingers. The blackened phrik alloy shimmered in the flickering firelight, the blade's glowing etchings igniting like veins of molten gold as she spun it into position.

The song of war had begun.

Her stance was effortless, the weight of the halberd perfectly balanced between her fingers, despite its size, despite its unforgiving lethality. The curved hook gleamed, the razor edge whispering of severed throats and broken defenses. The spiked tip pointed forward, a spear of destruction, waiting for its first victim.

She smiled.

"Diarch, shall we?" she murmured, twirling the weapon once, letting its deadly arc carve through the air like a whisper of death.

The droids charged.

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Tags: Serina Calis

Awaiting patiently for a reply the two warriors stood off. Even Rellilk un-worked compared to the women before him, did not doubt she had the strength left to give him a good fight. He could feel it off of her - radiant power.

Her response broke the silence of the revered chamber. Questioning if he wished to be her guide. Stepping one foot closer and speaking with a power like something he had only felt on two other people, his family.

"I am not a possibility. Not a path yet to be chosen."
"I am it."

The Diarch formed a smile on his face. For Serina had just described Destiny. She was right in that he did come here to find someone he could use as a tool but upon feeling her energy - he knew it. Although her presence in the force was similar to his, it was not until she finished her words that he determined that they were similar. Not Rellik himself.

"The force does not guide me—I command it."
"Then understand this, Diarch: You are not offering me a future. You are standing in the presence of what is inevitable."

But his Father, Kakus.

From her demeanor to her standing within the force. It reminded the Diarch of him. Even after his Fathers disappearance Rellik never doubted if he was alive. In some way. For he knew that there is neither life, nor death. Only the force and for Kakus - he commanded it. Everything between the two was like sitting within the gardens of his home on Taris once again listening to him speak.

For a moment even, he wondered if this was him. Reincarnated.

And then-

A warning cry.

Rellik did not change in his posture in the slightest. He stayed looking at this strange individual named Serina. As the thousands of years of dust beneath his feet began to shuffle he watched. He could hear the rear of machines, twisting metal weaponry moving to come and attack. He knew the risk before entering.

As the blaster fire began, he would finally untie the hands behind his back, igniting his saber and reflecting the bolts back unto the droids. His first movements since entering the chamber. Finally showing his technique and speed. The golden blade blending into the fires of the furnace. Their shields - still working at a good capacity after all of these years simply absorbed the returning fire.

The Diarch would bring out an old dagger from his belt, putting it in his off hand. Before launching his attack he looked back over at her again. A large black halberd with a glowing etch within her hands. Even for it being the size of her body, she handled it with grace.

Than finally, within the calling of battle - she smiled.

"Let us dance" mimicking her action and twirling the small curved dagger in his hand. An extension of his tempered ferocity and animalistic nature.

 

[Serina Calis]

Forge of Dominion.
Location: Dantooine, Old Rakatan Forge.
Objective: Begin again.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Diarch Rellik

The Force is not my master. It is not my guide. It is mine to wield, to shape, to command. Those who hesitate, who kneel before destiny, who whisper of balance—they are already lost. I will not endure. I will conquer. I will forge myself into something greater, and when I am done, the galaxy will not remember the Jedi. It will not remember the Sith. It will remember me.
​

The scent of burning ozone filled the air, mingling with the acrid bite of molten metal as blaster bolts scorched across the chamber. The battle had begun in earnest, yet Serina did not rush—did not falter. Instead, she stood, bathed in the flickering glow of the forge, watching as Diarch Rellik moved for the first time since entering.

Golden light erupted from his saber, a blade of radiant fire clashing against the darkness of the temple's ancient defenders. The precision in his deflections, the efficiency of his movements—each strike was practiced, measured, intentional. There was no hesitation, no wasted energy. The mark of a warrior who had long since mastered himself.

Serina's grip on Ebon Requiem tightened, the phrik alloy humming in response to her touch, the halberd's intricate etchings glowing faintly, as if the weapon itself was alive in her hands. She took it all in—the droids, the chaos, the unfolding violence—but her focus was still, somehow, on him.

He did not flinch.

Did not falter.

Did not run from the storm that had awakened.

Fascinating.

And then—his words.

"Let us dance."

The dagger twirled in his hand, a silvered blur in the firelight. There was something primal in the way he held himself now, a contrast to his stillness before. The calculating strategist was still there, but beneath the composure, she sensed ferocity—hunger. A beast that had long since learned to wear the mask of a man.

She liked that.

Serina's smile widened.

"A bold thing to say." Her voice was rich, amused, a subtle undertone of challenge curling around her words. "Are you certain you can keep up?"

Ebon Requiem cut through the air as she moved—not lunging, not striking, but shifting, the motion as fluid as a viper coiling before the kill. The weight of the halberd, the sheer size of it, meant nothing in her hands. It was hers.

It was an extension of her will.

The first droid that dared approach—she struck without hesitation.

A single, blinding arc—

The phrik blade met durasteel, slicing through the droid's shielding like parchment. The sheer force behind the swing split the automaton's torso apart, sending its upper half crashing into the wall with a sickening crunch of crushed metal.

It had not even finished falling before Serina was already in motion again.

A twist. A pivot. A seamless transition into the next movement. The deadly edge of her halberd carried momentum, the sweeping arc leading her straight into her next strike. Another droid raised its weapon—too slow.

Serina inverted her grip, shifting the halberd's weight in a blink—

The curved hook at the weapon's base snagged the droid's leg, wrenching it off balance. A single, fluid motion—she yanked, sending the machine crashing onto its back.

And then—

The spike of Ebon Requiem drove down.

Straight through its mechanical skull.

It spasmed. Twitched. Then fell still.

Serina exhaled, blue eyes burning with exhilaration.

"More."

Her voice was barely a whisper, but it carried through the chamber like a demand.

More enemies. More violence. More power.

She turned her gaze back to Rellik, a slow, measured glance.

He was watching her.

Not just observing—watching.

She could see it now, the subtle shift in his stance. He had studied her movements, her strikes, the way she carried herself. He was analyzing, learning—but beneath it, beneath the tactics and calculation, she could sense something else.

Recognition.

"I was wrong about you," she murmured, voice just loud enough for him to hear over the battle. "You're not just a man of power."

She twirled her halberd, rolling her shoulders, still loose, still composed, despite the chaos surrounding them.

"You are a man who understands the price of it."

And that, perhaps, was the most dangerous man of all.

But there was no time to dwell.

Another wave was coming.

She tilted her head, watching as the droids swarmed forward, their metal feet clanking against the temple's aged stone, weapons primed to fire.

"Enough talk, Rellik."

She spun Ebon Requiem into position, the glowing etchings along its blade pulsing like a heartbeat in the dim light.

"Let's see if you dance as well as you boast."

And with that—

Serina charged.