Private Family Matters

[Darth Empyrean]

The Emperor sat in his throne upon the throne room of the Mors Mon. It was not as opulent or aggressive as the one on Jutrand, where the ceiling cascaded into an endless sky and the throne was made of red kyberr bled to form a great crystalline chair. No, this was smaller, granite and engraved with ruby, a black marble finish with a gold accent. Ur Kittat symbolage lined the various walls, alcoves, and statues of the room - and where the Jutland throne room could hold hundreds, this one a mere fifty. It sufficed for foreign intimidation, and matters of state, but the Corpse Emperor still preferred his home on Jutrand.​

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Perhaps in some ways, it felt safe, as opposed to being on the war path that he had forced himself to be on. To kill latent entities, to let their sacrifice fuel him and his war machine. There was to be a reckoning in the coming months for these outlying worlds, these Mandalorian, these imperials. They would learn horrors that the Sith were capable of - and he would grow stronger for it.​

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For now, however, his spies and eyes on Jutrand and his Empire had informed him of the chaos that spun about itself. Darth Strosius making a fool of himself and declaring himself an enemy of Taeli Raaf , Darth Malum of House Marr with his little plots and schemes for power, and all the others who continued to fight over scraps he offered. Annoying that it was, it was the Sith way - he only wished they had a bit more tact with how they did it.​

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When he would return from war, this family he had forced under his will would come to heel, and it would be done by the will of his strength if necessary. It was the only way more often than he cared to admit.​

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For now, he needed his Empress - to speak with her, even as he was across the Galaxy. She knew the domestic issues of his Empire far better than him, more intimately at least. He once was a diplomat, a man careful with his words, but the death he had been subject to made diplomacy no more than a game of scaring his enemies. They looked upon him and recoiled - and so be it if they did. His power was eternal, they deserved nothing more.​

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He could feel her as she appeared in his shadow, in his throne room.​

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"Lover.", he said in his cold and dry tone.​

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"Before I ask of matters of state - how are you... how are my children.", he asked, the slightest tone of pleading breaking his façade of strength he had been convinced of only a moment before.​

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Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Empyrean
Location: Mors Mon
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He called for her.

She felt his presence in every fiber of her being, in ways, that most people would shy away from. Her husband knew her better than anyone else and more than anyone else ever would. The secrets they kept were few. Necessary. She moved out of his shadow with the effortlessness of a specter…Lengths of visible darkness clung to her while it tried in vain to pull her back. Long white hair flowed behind her like a silken veil, golden eyes glowing softly, while she came to stand before him.

Dressed blasphemously in white.

The bride she had never been—The wife she would always be.

Her chilling gaze fixed on the decrepit figure that was seated on the throne. Most would shrink away from her coldness, from her glacial, punishing stare. He remained steadfast and always had. Her other half. Her better, half. She traced the long mop of blood-red hair that framed what was left of the face she loved until quiet orbs met his iron eyes. For a moment, she saw him as he had once been.

Alive.

Features that matched her own, his chest, rising and falling while he laughed at some joke that had just barely gone over her head for the umpteenth time. The strength of the memory made her want to drop to her knees before the Emperor of the Sith Order and weep of all that they had lost. But, that had never been her way. Their way. She had never been some wailing widow. Instead, she let herself breathe. Taking in the truth. The alchemy and magic that sustained him. The faint necrotic aura that clung to him. He—Who was her everything. He who hung the stars in the sky for her.

Srina stepped forward, her expression serene and unreadable. She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment while their bond resonated from their nearness. It transcended the physical world and pressed beyond the boundaries of life and death. "My Emperor…", she replied, her voice soft, almost melodious in contrast to the harshness of their surroundings. The kiss of her lips twitched a little. She never referred to him that way unless she was teasing…Or very, very angry.

His question was…Startling. It hung in the air, the faint tremor of concern piercing through his otherwise formidable demeanor. Her heart ached at the sight of a rare moment of vulnerability from the man who commanded legions and struck fear into the hearts of so many. The fabric of her long nightclothes whispered up the dais while she came to sit on the arm of his throne as she had so many times before. At least this one was easier on her posterior than kyber crystal.

"Our children are safe…", she said softly, her tone gentle but firm. "They grow strong and intelligent, as you would wish. They miss you, as do I. But I have ensured that they understand the necessity of your absence. Your strength is what keeps them safe. What will…Ensure their future."

Was it possible for their younglings to miss the father they had never met? Yes. Srina had spared them no detail from her memory of Maliphant or Rhysiôn Talon. The secret worldship that she was building in the Cularen system was both their home and a thriving place to remember a family that had never quite been whole. Srina kept Empyrean alive for their children. Alive, loving, and well.

"Luna has composed a song for you and Sol…Sol is determined to best Kaine in some measure of combat. It has yet to happen but I have no doubt his skills with a sword will be…", Srina paused, trying, to put it into a perspective Empyrean would understand. "Equal or better than mine. I have a recording for you…If you would want to see them…"

It had not been so long ago that their son had threatened to beat Darth Carnifex "bloody" if his newfound Haru hurt his mother or sister. His distant and quiet nature hadn't changed much. When he spoke, however, he meant what he said. "They are doing well with short visits with children their age. They needed…Socialization. More, than myself and droid-staff."

But they could not come to Jutrand.

One day, perhaps.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

His fingers rubbed nervously against themselves, a great pressure between dead skin on dead skin. It was always the dead skin - that taught course nature of it, that reminded him that he was no longer capable of a tender love. Not to brush his daughters hair, or hold his son. To witness him would be more scarring than joyful - and while he knew they would see what he was on holovids and pictures, they would eventually learn what he had become. He only hoped when that day came, they would understand.​

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Yet, for the first time perhaps since his death, he snorted in laughter. It was brief, hoarse, dry in its execution, but it was a moment of joy. To think his son had threatened the Dark Lord of the Sith so blatantly. It was a great thing for one so young to be so confident, and Empyrean had a great pride in his blackened heart for what his son would grow into.​

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But his sweet daughter, who had created something for him - that was in itself a joy. His hand clenched into a fist, not out of anger but great emotion - contradicting the placid expression on his dead face. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to sit and play the piano with her, as he had done with Srina so long before. Now, with only one arm, he could do nothing of the sort.​

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"I would like to hear what she wrote...", he said quietly.​

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As for seeing them, he contemplated in silence for some time. A consideration he would dwell on internally - offering her no concrete answer. He was afraid, perhaps, of what they may look like. Of how much it would hurt. The man who never feared to fight anyone in the Galaxy, feared the sight of his own children. How ironic, and disgustingly weak of him.​

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"How do they fair around other children? Social, I hope? One can only grow around Sith so long before it becomes... an issue.", he said, with a deep worry about them, despite knowing he had very little place to change their course now. He trusted his wife to do that much on her own, despite his regrets and fears.​

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Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Empyrean
Location: Mors Mon
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Srina watched the eldritch horror before her, noting the subtle tension in his movements, almost, as if her beloved was seeking to reclaim some lost sense of touch. It pained her to see him like this, a reminder of what they had both sacrificed in the name of…What? Security? Hurbris? Power? An Empire? It all seemed so very far away, now. So distant. Yet, beneath the cold exterior and the undead flesh, she still saw the man she loved, a man who still, if with difficulty, harbored deep emotions for his family.

For her.

It was traumatic and all-encompassing—Such were the passions of Sith.

When he snorted in laughter, ghostly lips curved into a soft, almost imperceptible smile. It was a rare sound, a fleeting moment that she had silently longed for. Despite the boy's audacity, his pride in their son warmed her in ways she didn't quite understand. Motherhood for her had been fraught with difficulty and a certain level of loneliness she had never expected. It came with fear, promises, and something precious to lose. They were their weakness. They were their strength.

Her hand reached out, resting lightly on his clenched fist. Without fear. Without any recoil from the sensation of leathery skin meeting the softness of her own. "Your daughter would be delighted to share her creation with you…", Srina spoke gently….Careful not to break the moment with her glacial nature. Merely, providing certain truths. "She has your talent despite her age…"

That was a memory she could not bear. Maliphant had brought her back to life so long ago…But the memory of sitting beside him, playing a song, where they could converse and hold entire discussions between bars of music, and none would be the wiser. It drew more emotion in her than she wished. Made her stomach twist with something she could almost call agony. It would have been exactly that…Were it not honey-sweet.

Srina placed her heart outside, in the cold. It was the only way she could retain the Queen he required and not take out her rage unjustly. She could feel his conflict, the fear that he might never fully overcome. The thought of seeing their children, of confronting the emotions that would stir within him was beyond daunting. Srina understood his hesitation, but she also knew that their children needed to know him as much as he needed to know them. "…You are not their nightmare, meldanya. You have made…Such beautiful, intelligent, and willful creatures. Were it possible I would request a dozen more."

She let the topic change. Giving him a moment to settle. Never pushing—Always patient.

"They've handled it rather well…", she elaborated, careful, not to give him too much information about where their education occurred. Srina was aware that Empyrean often lingered in her mind as she walked his…There were some doors that needed to stay shut. Welded, shut. "I have ensured they interact with other children, both within the Sith and beyond. Luna is quite the butterfly and has rather cheerfully, despite my protests, taken to informing playmates that her father is the King. Most assume that she refers to Kaine…"

Srina watched from a distance so one ever saw her face. Never, saw the likeness between herself and her children. Echani genetics were intense…And it was only their youth that hid the truth. The misconception of parentage was something she allowed if only because it added layers to the ruse. Another ring of protection, rings, among rings. Srina was possessive enough that it bothered her deeply but it was a practical measure. She was nothing, if not practical. "He is kind to them, regardless, your differences."

Empyrean would understand the "he" that she referred to.

"Soldane has adjusted a little more slowly. Differently. He has an anger in him that I don't think he understands…But Luna does. She keeps him grounded and they speak without words. I can hear it buzzing between them all the time. It is telepathy…But it is restricted for now to the two of them."

She paused in her almost impartial replies, golden eyes softening as they met his iron sight. "They are curious about you. They do ask for you. They see the holovids and hear the stories, but they long to know you, to understand..."

"Why they cannot be with you. Here, with us."

In time, Srina had faith that both younglings would come to appreciate the love their father had for them. Even if it could not be shown in conventional ways. Her head tilted when she seemed to hear something unspoken. Something, he hadn't said. Her fingers tightened slightly around his, a silent act of comfort. What was her worth if she could not ease his burdens? Dead or alive…It made no difference. "…You are not weak, my love. You are the strongest I have ever known.", her words were pale and without the warm inflection that a wife may normally have, trying, to console their partner. She didn't have the emotional expression that came to others so easily…But that didn't mean she didn't feel his pain. That didn't make it any less true.

The white-haired woman reached into the pocket of her nightwear and pulled out a small silver ball that was no larger than a plum pit. Srina leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "One day, when the time is right, we will find a way for you to be with them. Until then…"

They would start small.

The silver device began to float and a soft voice, innocent, seemed to be arguing with someone else in the background. It would be the first time Empyrean heard either of them…Luna telling Sol to hush. Sol telling Luna to hurry up—Before a melody began to pour from it. Full of fantasy. The impossible gentleness of a child where dreams actually came true. They were unscarred by the world, even, if they were already marked for the darkside. With parents such as these…

What else could they be?

 

[Darth Empyrean]

It hurt him, even momentarily, that he could not hold the pride of having his son and daughter tied to him. They spoke of him with such reverence, and he couldn't even say their name in front of the Sith, let alone know they existed become public knowledge. It would open them up to too many problems, threats, sycophants and assassins. If not the Jedi radicalized by his wars, then the Sith looking to leverage him into the dirt.​

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It hurt again that they were being raised by Kaine - a man he fought, sought to kill, had the pleasure of raising his kids in spite of him. It was a greater pain that he wasn't there, but he could feel thankful that if nothing else, they were protected. If not by Srina, than perhaps Carnifex. Not because he trusted the Zambrano Warlord to do right by him, but that Srina had entrusted him with their children. More than anything, her word was phrik to his mind, and if she trusted it, then so would he.​

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These things all went through his mind without a word, from sorrow to thankfulness, before it turned once more on what she said.​

Empyrean considered, contemplated, the thought of his son filled with anger. When Empyrean had no name, not Maliphant or Rhysion, he was without anything. When he was a boy, a child the same age, he had no freedom, food, or even a name to be given. He was called many things, but they changed from owner to owner, from abuser to abuser. When he was a boy, he was left with nothing but a pit of anger so hot it burned like a steel ball in his gut at all times.​

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He feared for his Son then, that in time he might fall to the same holes he had. For many years Empyrean had ruined his own life in the search for freedom and pleasure, to be a warlord on a ship that knew nothing but an endless party, taking down governments who didn't deserve such harshness, or cultists who used his power for their own ends. It was this continued and violent habit that saw him crucified, betrayed, abused, and eventually left by all that had wanted him to be something more than a slave.​

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In the end, he was a slave to his anger - and it was only when the old Sith Empire attempted to steal the Darkstaff from him that he grew more solid in his foundation mentally. When his memory returned to him, he departed from them - and built himself an empire fitting his intelligence, his power, and his nature. If only he had stopped there, he may have enjoyed his children's upbringing, but his anger never ceased. In the end, he was still a slave to it. Even now, he subsisted on it.​

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A disgusting leech that it was, a collar he never asked for. At least his Son had his Daughter - an anchor before he ever had one. He only hoped it would be enough to steer him on a path Empyrean never go to see. A happier one.​

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"There will come a day they will know me, but I would not have their first sight of their Father be his death in perpetuity.", he said with a glance to his body, a corpse forced to walk by his will, never allowed to die despite its pleas.​

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"Until then...", his wife said, and he looked up to her.​

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It was the sound of their voice that struck him. Harder than Prazutis or Carnifex ever had in their fights, harder than Valery had done when he died. It struck him to his core, and instinctually his hand collapsed into a fist once more, tight as he listened intently. Replaying their voice over and over in his head even as they continued to speak, taking in every inflection and tone, no matter how brief. He would never forget the sound of his children's voices, never allow this to fade.​

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His eyes closed when the music began, and he heard it sway through melody and tone. His wife was right - despite her age, she played masterfully. There was a purity in the song, something he never held even when he began to play. His own music and style were always laden with pain and scars, no matter how joyful the tunes he tried to play or sing. The innocense of children played through it, and when it finished he used the Force to make it play again...​

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And again...​

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And again...​

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Until it had burned its way into his soul. Were his body so willing to act out living emotions, he would have cried. Weeped at what he heard - for what he lost, what he missed, and what he had help to create. More than an Empire, more than the Order he fought to hold together, this was his finest creation. There would be nothing more proud in his life than this.​

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---

After some time in the silence, masked only by the sound of his children's song, Empyrean said still and back. Still and lifeless, he looked more his name sake than anything else, but slowly he stirred and spoke;​

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"There are things I need to share with you about this war, of my plans. Many, I do not think you will like, but I will explain why I am doing them. Before that, however, I would like you to tell me about affairs at home. How do the children of our Empire play?", he said, turning to look at her perfect and beautiful features, peerless and contradictory in their entirety to his own. How odd they once looked so close to one another.​

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Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Empyrean
Location: Mors Mon
______________________________________________________

"The truth will find them, meldanya. As much as we may want to…we cannot hide them for eternity."

Her words were little more than a whisper while she emulated a marble statue. Perched precariously, on the armrest of the emperor's seat, amidst the cold grandeur of the Mors Mon throne room. Her yellow-gold eyes, unyielding and intense, were fixed upon her husband. The pain of his condition was a knife that twisted in the core of her being, but she allowed no hint of it to surface. Her emotions were a weapon to be wielded. Her love for Empyrean…A fire that burned cold and eternal.

Srina remained impassive. She understood his fears, his regrets, and his unwavering strength.

She understood because she felt them too.

If only she had been more outspoken in her belief that the Worm was using Maliphant for his own ends. If only she hadn't been consumed with making the Unmaker pay for destroying the Confederacy. If only she hadn't wasted so much time away from him. If only she had arrived on Odavessa sooner. If only she had been by his side, as intended, before the ritual started. She could still feel it.

The phantom sensation of his blood on her hands. The absolute futility in trying to hold two halves of him together while his last moments were spent trying to console her. To soothe her breaking heart with blood on his lips. To love her…Even when he had nothing left to give.

Srina would never forget nor forgive that night.

Never.

She raised Luna and Sol the only way she knew how. As Echani. Their children were most literally the future, their legacy, and she taught them of their father through story and song. She showed them his fighting style, mixed with her own, so that they might have part of both of them. She expanded their horizons by letting Kaine train them. He wouldn't pull punches—Nor would he place them at unnecessary risk. She taught them language, art, music, and politics. Srina was raising them to navigate a treacherous universe…In their absence.

Should the worst occur? She wanted, needed, to know that they would be able to protect themselves.

Srina could feel how Empyrean felt about another man raising his young. She had chosen Kaine as a protector in their absence, not because of who he was, but because of the understanding they were able to build. Because he was resilient. Because when his Empire fell, he still rose from the dirt and dust untouched and untarnished. Because through this understanding…The Order could be undiminishable. Srina was not the lynchpin. It was their children. A future promised.

When the recording began to play…She could not look at her husband. It would be her undoing. She could only watch the small device that floated in her open palm. The slender creature drew it closer to her chest while he played the song. Over, and over. Maliphant had not sought children for the sake of having pawns to hold dominion over. He had asked for a family. The fact that he was denied the one thing he had ever asked of her made her jaw clench.

But she would hold to her own words. Starting, small.

"Your son will find his way…", she spoke softly, her voice carrying a quiet conviction. "He has a sister who grounds him, a mother who guides him, and a father who he will one day understand. He will not fall into the same patterns, because we will not allow it."

Srina was content to speak with silence for as long as Empyrean required. He was harder to read because his body did not move like one of the living, but, she could comprehend him all the same. Her leg swung idly back and forth for a moment while he asked of the rest of their children. She was as close as she could be without causing herself injury. One wrong movement, one slip, and the miasma at his core would burn her hellaciously. "The children of our empire…"

"Do what children do, meldanya. They play games."

The edges of her lips twisted for a moment in something that might have been a smirk but it faded before it could be noted. "It is the allure of power and a thoroughly bankrupt view of politics. They vie for favor, test their boundaries, and seek to prove themselves, bloodily, if the situation calls for it.", that would hardly be a shock to Empyrean. It was the way of the Sith to be deceptive and form grudges to fuel their passions. To give ground, and credence, when they decided to crusade. "But…they are also learning the value of loyalty, the possibility of unity. I can see in them a strength that binds."

Perhaps in brotherhood...Perhaps in hate. It bound, all the same. They were being shaped and elevated oft without their knowledge.

"Some still cling to the old ways and try to enforce division. With that in mind…I will likely need to close the book for one of your Inquisitors before too long. His ambition is impressive—But there is not enough bite to back up his bark. He will suffer, for that."

It wasn't a threat.

It was an inevitability.

"But…He will learn."

Srina glanced toward her husband when she finished speaking, head tilting, while lengths of moonlit hair slipped over her shoulder. "However…I will manage that. It is your turn…"

"Tell me of our war beloved…Of these things I will not like."

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean made a noise somewhere between a groan and a hmm. It was a sign of his continued annoyance at the failure of his Sith to live up to the standards that he not only expected of them, but the standards he knew they could live up to themselves. Some had embraced the teachings more thoroughly, some grew in skill and acumen, subsisted in holding themselves together until their time was right. Darth Malum of House Marr and Gerwald Lechner had both shown that promise - while others never needed his guidance, like Taeli Raaf or Darth Carnifex .​

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And yet, one who held as much promise as any he considered, continued to fail. Darth Strosius , the man who murdered Darth Ophidia , subsisted on open anger. For all the strength Empyrean knew he could have, he failed time and time again to consider things more nuanced or to at least bide his ploys and plots until they were assured. Perhaps more than most, he had the greatest potential, but the greatest length to overcome.​

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"I am not sure yet how to approach this situation. He will need protection from his enemies, and it is unlikely he will sustain his position with the new Dark Council in control. He is not stable enough to hold high office to protect himself, and not strong enough to not need position. It would be a terrible thing, but he could be forced into the servitude of Darth Carnifex or Darth Arcanix upon request - hidden from his knowledge. It would only take a kaggath to force him to come to heel.", he said in contemplation.​

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"He could be so much more - he just needs his road restricted so he stops missing his turns."​

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After a moment, he nodded and motioned to the middle of the room. Various holoprojectors from around the hall ignited, and in the middle of the luxury, a planet formed. Feriae Junction, a world of many millions protected by the Mandalorians. It lived on the path from the Holy Worlds to the core - and there was a countdown to the Mors Mon arrival.​

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"As for my plans...", he began.​

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"None know of this, but many are likely to soon realize what I am doing. I will burn the world of Feriae Junction to the ground, and with it I will create a wound in the Force that will set a marker in my ritual. I have already done so through Tion, when I allowed Darth Carnifex the authority to burn it to the ground. Most believe it was his own decision, and more still believe it was done so that the tithes did not stop. These are not true.", he continued.​

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"Darth Vitiate had once created a ritual to become a great Dark Side Entity. His scale began on Nathema, but his true goal was never realized. To consume the galaxy in a great ritual that would see him become Divinity. A Singularity of power. I have no such ambition, but I will soon enact a ritual that will consume most, if not all life from the Tion Cluster, to the Stygian Caldera, to the Mandalorian worlds. Billions, if not Trillions will die in seconds, my beloved, and I will become evil incarnate to any who still believe I can be saved from my path.", he said as he turned to look to her.​

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"I do not want to kill billions, but I will do so for a singular reason. With it, I may hold the power and foundations to overcome the Worm, rebuild my body, and come home. I am asking you to support me, so that I may spend a trillion lives simply so I may save one. My own. A selfish, evil thing I am planning, perhaps - but I do so for the greatest reason I can think."​

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"Love.", he said as he looked to the world that would soon be destroyed at his command.​

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Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Empyrean
Location: Mors Mon
______________________________________________________

Srina watched her husband's slow, measured movements, her alabaster countenance remaining empty of all things. Every gesture, every shift of his deadened form, spoke volumes to keen Echani eyes. She knew the subtle language of his body, even in its current state, better than anyone. When he finally spoke, she listened intently, her gaze never wavering nor lessening in focus.

Her mind processed the words with the precision of a blade. Darth Strosius was an unknown element that seemed to operate beneath the waves of a vast sea, full of curious eyes, and wrathful hearts. His decisions were often a point of contention, his actions, were perceived as reckless, his potential vast and yet almost entirely untapped or purposefully ignored out of...What...Ignorance?

She understood Empyrean's frustration…More and more, his name met her ears.

It was not favorable.

"…Strosius is…unpredictably predictable.", Srina mused aloud, her voice calm and steady. "He needs more than just protection; he needs discipline. Perhaps it is time to test his mettle. A kaggath could be the solution but we would need to provide an adversary that would satisfy all requirements. If his opponent pulls their punches in any way…It will solve nothing. It could easily be the making of him—or his undoing."

The thought of assigning him to the service of one of the Dark Council members held varying levels of merit. The irony of it all was that what the Inquisitor had done wasn't the worst offense that Sith had committed against each other over the centuries, but he lacked the strength to follow through. If he had the might to tear into such old blood and not suffer the repercussions through sheer virtue of overwhelming strength and support?

No one would have blinked. As it stood…He did not. Unlucky, Srina found his methods and actions, against Children of the Order, her children, reprehensible. For that alone?

She seethed.

As Empyrean activated the holoprojectors, Srina's eyes flicked to the image of Feriae Junction, the countdown ticking ominously. The weight of what he was about to reveal pressed down on the room, on her, causing a palpable tension that even the cold stone walls couldn't absorb.

Empyrean's plan unfolded before her, each word carving a deeper understanding of the lengths he was willing to go. The destruction of entire worlds, the creation of a wound in the Force, and the massive loss of life—all for a singular, deeply personal goal. She understood the gravity of what he proposed, the moral and ethical lines it would cross…It caused her to stand up swiftly. Her jaw, hard.

Her eyes were sharp.

"You did not tell me."​

The burnished golden eyes of the Empress darkened and for a moment a lattice-work of corruption spread from unwavering orbs and moved lower on her cheeks. Spreading. Blackening her skin while her cheekbones pressed from beneath pallid flesh in an almost gruesome way. They had never argued over anything, to her knowledge, but in the moment, she felt a sense of betrayal that was both new and complicated. Her love of all things had been made into a weapon without her knowledge...How...Could she have not seen? Known?

Small hands formed fists so tightly that her nails sliced crescent moon marks in her palms.

Srina knew his ambition, his desire to return. This was a plan born of desperation and brilliance, one that only a Sith with his power and vision could conceive. It was perfect. It was more than befitting the eldritch horror he had become and yet…He was right.

She did not like it.

Moreover, she did not like that she had been kept in the dark.

Her eyes closed. Quietly, the corruption in her body seemed to recede and her muscles unwound while she forced the storm within her to calm. No. She would not take her rage out on him because that was not how their partnership worked. That was not what it was. Nor, would it ever be.

She would burn the stars for him...Why did it surprise her that he would do the same for her?

"…I am angry with you for your silence.", she spoke softly, finally, her voice carrying a weight that pressed her back into herself. Poised. Perfect. Chilling...Because the Order had no place for anything less. "…But I understand your reasoning. The Worm is a threat, a parasite, that cannot be ignored, and your return would solve…Many ills."

She paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in further. The thought of supporting a plan that would result in the deaths of billions was a heavy burden, even for her. She had slaughtered countless enemies over the last few decades and had never looked back. They were in the way, pure and simple. Was this not the same? Her eyes were full of questions and…Emotion that she had no use for made her physically waver.

Perhaps for the first time in her life, graceless, and unbalanced.

Was this love?

Dancing on the graves of billions to have some measure of their autonomy back?

When she spoke next it was in the same measured syllables that held a touch of distant frost.

"You are my air. My moon, my life, my center. Our future was turned to ash and blood overnight and there was nothing I could do but watch it burn. Understand....I will not survive the loss of you, twice.", the moment was silenced when her eyes turned away from him, rightfully concerned, that the consequences might destroy what was left of him. Her words were carefully chosen. If his plan failed it wasn't that she couldn't survive....It was that she wouldn't. He deserved to feel, to touch, to know his children… But at what cost? Why? Why was he doing this now? "...Do you doubt my devotion to you?"

"Do you think I cannot love you as you are?"

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Emperor did not cower at his wife's outburst as many Sith in their position may have. There was no need to fear her, but his eyes closed none the less, and his head fell to the ground. Anger was sharp, but it didn't strike as many assumed it might, it burned its hole much deeper. In perhaps the only tender spot left to the dead man.

"I don't doubt your devotion to me. You prove it with every breath and every second you remain by my side.", he said quietly.

"Your love is not in doubt. But...", he idled for a moment, hesistating.

"My children's are."

His hand worked, clenching and unclenching as his fingers nervously crimped themselves. It was the Force that moved his corpse now, but it was a habit he had even in life. Forming a fist, releasing, doing it all over as though he could squeeze the anxiety and stress from his very soul by his methodic habit.

"I did not tell you not out of fear you would not accept me. I did not tell you because of shame, that I could not come up with a plan more reasonable. I know you read late into the night, searching for answers to the same struggle we both face. I hoped that... together, perhaps.... we could have found an alternative before this day came.", he said, still looking to the ground.

"There is more, my love.", he finally looked back to her.

"I would burn the very stars for you, let trillions die so our family can be whole, but the onus can not be on just me. When this ritual is done, when I have gained the power to break the Worm and separate our souls, I would ask something unholy from you.", he said with a slowly forming frown.

"There will no doubt be backlash. From the Order, from the Sith we rule, from the Galaxy as a whole. It will be a crime without equal in the last century of war our universe has faced. If you stand with me, even then, you and our children will suffer. I ask the hardest part to be your burden..."

"When the dust settles, I would ask you form a coalition, and kill me.", he said with a sadness unfitting the Emperor's visage.

"The Emperor's Sacrament will have to be done, so that my power and part of the power I take from those trillions will pass onto the next Emperor of the Sith. I will put a seal on my soul after the first ritual, so that when the day comes and I die, I will be transferred to somewhere neither of us know. You will be able to find me, but to return to the Galaxy would invite war."

"You would have to carry the burden and image that you killed your husband, and you will have to drive your blade into my heart yourself for it to be convincing. Only then can we be free of... this.", he said with a motion to everything around him.

Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Empyrean
Location: Mors Mon
______________________________________________________

"No."

Srina stood still, her elegant form rigid in the dimly lit chamber.

Completely still.

"No."

She did not breathe. She did not move. She did not exist save to endure the weight of a request that sent her reality crashing into an endless sea. Helpless, as she never was. Lost, as she never was. Her white nightgown fluttered slightly in the silent, unseen currents of Force projection that pulled the room's shadows toward her. Blacking out the chamber—Blotting out the Light, leaving only a bitter, freezing cold. "No.", the repeated word had more force now, more depth, and the power in her voice breathed through the vaulted ceiling. Her long white hair, usually immaculate, hung loosely around her shoulders, and framed an emotionlessly beautiful face. There was nothing in her expression but the truth poured out of her eyes… Now stricken with a mixture of fury, sorrow, and suffering so deep it threatened to consume her.

Her husband's words echoed in her mind, each syllable a dagger plunging into the center of her being. She stared at him, her yellow-gold eyes blazing with something she could barely control. The frozen air seemed to crackle around her, charged, no matter how hard she fought to maintain her composure. She had to be perfect. She could not feel, this way. She could not afford to feel this way. Srina, the so-called Sith Empress, felt the world she knew fracturing.

The anger that existed flared anew. It was raw and primal while it surged through her veins like glacial wildfire, igniting every nerve with ferocious heat that burned bitter cold. How dare he ask this of her? How dare he lay such a burden at her feet, knowing the pain it would cause? She could feel a banshee scream welling in her throat, the desire, to unleash her fury, to rend the very fabric of reality with her rage. To make this world what she wanted it to be and nothing more. But…beneath that seething anger was something far more painful: a profound, soul-crushing sorrow.

The thought of killing him, her Emperor, her husband, her love, the father of her children, was agony beyond words. Srina's chest tightened and her bloodied palm came to press over her heart, her breath finally coming in shallow, ragged gasps as she struggled to contain what lay within her. She had an iron will. She never gave in. She never bent, she never broke, for the lure of the Darkside. The notion of plunging a blade into his heart, of being the one to end his life, twisted her insides into knots of despair. Sith Rituals never had guaranteed outcomes…No matter the sacrifice. If it failed he could eradicate his soul completely. All that he was. All that he had ever been, would be. How could she bear it? How could she live with the knowledge, the possibility, that his true death could be by her hand?

"Let me count the ways, I have devoted myself to you. What makes you think I would risk your life?"

Her words were a thoughtless lash against his decayed skin. A brand—Filling her only love, with her every hateful sin.

Yet, as the silence stretched between them, Srina could not help but evaluate her beloved. See him, his everything, as only she could. Witness the torment in his being and sense the heavy burden of the request he made while it weighed crushingly down on him. Like a giant duracrete slab pressing out any semblance of life that was left in him. His hand, clenching, and unclenching, was a thin outlet for his inner turmoil. He was asking for the impossible, but not out of ignorance. He sought a way for their family to survive, for their children to be spared the horrors of their world. He was trying to protect them all, even if it meant his own destruction.

Saltwater welled up in Srina's eyes, blurring her vision. She blinked them away fiercely. A Sith did not cry. A Sith did not break. She was Echani. She was stronger than any impulse a base creature may have. She was not ruled by such weakness— But in the moment, standing before the man she loved more than the moon and sky, she felt herself…shatter. Everything she had been working toward, every night spent reading, learning, trying to become powerful enough to help her Maliphant…Her Rhysion…

It was meaningless. An empty gesture. A fruitless pursuit.

Had this been his plan all along?

Slowly, she crossed the distance between them, her steps light but purposeful. She reached out, her hand trembling as it cupped what had once been his cheek, now, a wolfish rotten and leathery jaw, so that she could lift his head. Forcing him to meet her gaze. The touch was tender, a stark contrast to the storm burning through her body like dragonfire. He would hear the throne he sat upon crack from the pressure exuded from her nearness while the ship itself seemed to groan in discomfort.

Pressure. So…Much pressure.

"…Do you have any idea what you are asking of me? What you ask of your wife?", Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of her anguish. Of such darkness that it could bring down a curse so vile and violent that it could rend the Mors Mon into nothing while it collapsed in on itself like a crushed tin can. "To kill you by my own hand…to live with that memory every single day. Even in your arms…I would never be whole. I would not be the woman you wed, nor, the mother our children need. This…Is a cruelty I never thought you capable of…"

Not toward her.

"I know…That I have failed you. Failed to find a solution, but I will find one. Let me find one…"

Her eyes closed.

For all the power she had amassed…Truly? She had none. It was not enough.

"Let me find one that does not end with my blade in your chest."

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean was silent for some time, looking to the floor once more in shame. He understood what he asked her, and yet he could not ask of her anything else. Were he able, he would never ask anything of her - let the world bear down on him, let his family live in the peaceful bliss he would create for them. If he had chosen another path, if he knew then what he knew now.​

​

Maybe he would still be alive, and maybe his Wife would not be destined to kill him.​

​

"I know what I'm asking you.", he offered flatly, the faint tinge of sorrow in a voice incapable of emotion anymore. A puppet corpse speaking the barest hint of the words he wish he could offer her. The comfort he wished he could provide her, even now.​

​

"I want you to survive, my love. My moon and my stars. My sky and my earth.", he said with a look up to her.​

​

"I fear that when our enemies come, there will come a day I won't be strong enough to protect you or our children. To avoid the worst, to save our children, I'd ask you to take on my sins - to bear this cross for me, and for them."​

​

"Yet I hold hope even now you will find another option. Another choice. The Worm plots, speaks to me in the silence of the night - no matter what we do, he must be destroyed. For the Galaxy's sake, if not our own."​

​

Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Empyrean
Location: Mors Mon
______________________________________________________

"…You do not..."

Her voice was an overwrought echo in the vastness of the empty chamber. Rarely, did her quiet tones hold any sort of emotion but it was bubbling beneath the surface with or without her consent. Her eye sockets were full of golden flame and the luxurious ivory hair floated softly around features that seemed to becoming more and more skeletal. Bones stood out against white paper skin. Her humanity was folding away beneath the wake of darkness that bloomed within. Like a cloud, a flower, made of so much poison taking root in her chest.

So much…despair.

"I have felt you die.", eventually, she continued, and the intensity of the power she unintentionally exuded flared down her hands and into him. The metal of the ship shook and hammered in time with a heartbeat that felt unsteady. Broken, skipping beats. It was almost as if there was a giant bust of wind trying to burst through the walls. Through the floor. There couldn't be a storm brewing within the star destroyer…There couldn't be such pressure, ozone, filling every available space. Right? "No matter how the Worm tortures you…You will never know…the emptiness."

"The hollow that is left in me when you are not there. You have never had my blood on your hands. My body in your arms. You have never watched while the life drains from me, helpless, to do anything but hope that my suffering might end swiftly."

It would slowly become clear that despite her innate ability to compartmentalize trauma some things pressed her to the limit. This was something she had never dealt with. There hadn't been time or any way possible when his first act upon resurrection was to try and remove her head. They hit the ground running and just…Never looked back. He needed her. Her children needed her. The Sith Order needed her. Had she not risen to every occasion?

Had she not proven herself capable in all the years they had shared?

"You do not defend us on your own, Rhysion. I can protect us. If I am not strong enough yet…I will be."

Her eyes closed while she kept his wicked face in her hands. Wishing, she could wrap her arms around him just once without threat of his core destroying her. There were moments when she thought it might be worth it. Just a few seconds. Enough that her skin might crack and peel but perhaps the damage wouldn't be irreparable. She was…Wholly unaware, in her indignation, pain, and fear that her weakness was brimming over while she claimed to be strong. Realizing with painful clarity, that this strength, might be for the very thing he had requested. "I would do…anything...for you…"

"Anything…But that. I cannot. I cannot…"

Her knees slowly began to give and when she hit the floor of the throne it was with a deafening thud as her hands fell away. There was no floor to stand on, ripped away, and her lips parted to speak but nothing pressed forward. Her power was twisted into something so monstrous that it took all she had to lock it away. To keep it close, hidden. The whirling cold burn of her might running through the ship seemed to find a place to roost. It didn't attack her lover, her husband, but it did find a place.

Inside her.

Her face went slack. There was so much noise inside…It deafened her. Deadened, her. Because for all her protestation, she knew that if the time came her need to protect their children would force her hand. The Worm would take her soul from her a second time, in the same life, and there was nothing she could do about it. When her eyes turned back toward the Corpse King…They were empty. Devoid, hollow.

Save for the singular tear that ran down her cheek.

It didn't matter what she wanted, what, she wished. If she didn't find an alternative…Her shoulders tightened and the sight of him blurred. "I won't stop looking. I won't..."

"…Until…"

Until she had no other choice.

This…Was how true villains were made. This…Was how her humanity would be forever lost.