Private Heart Breaker.

[Serina Calis]

Heart Breaker.
Location: Adarlon
Objective: Find more tools.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Darth Dekaltis

"Insanity, is for the gullible, Sanity, is for the weak. Better to find an inbetween."​

The cityscape of Adarlon stretched far beyond the tinted windows of the high-rise apartment, shimmering in neon blues and radiant golds beneath the dying light of day. The world was a contradiction, a jewel of entertainment and opulence wrapped in the quiet chokehold of Sith dominion. In the soft hum of the skyline, the people below went about their insignificant routines—actors on a stage too small to matter. A world of indulgence and spectacle, but also one of puppets waiting for a master to pull the strings.

Serina Calis stood at the entrance of the apartment, a shadow draped in her customary robes of muted black and gold, her presence carefully curated like an artist's brushstroke upon the scene. She did not knock. She did not announce herself. The security mechanisms of this place, no doubt modified beyond recognition by the one who dwelled within, had already acknowledged her arrival.

A soft hiss of decompression, a click, and the door slid open.

She stepped inside without hesitation, the contrast between the quiet precision of her movements and the chaotic interior ahead of her almost jarring. The air smelled of ozone, metal, and something faintly synthetic—lingering traces of discharged energy weapons and cybernetic modifications. Screens flickered along the walls, casting erratic hues of blue and red, replaying fragmented holonet clips and chat logs filled with scrolling text from unseen watchers. The apartment itself was a maze of half-disassembled blaster parts, open toolkits, and discarded energy cells, as though its occupant had started a dozen projects and abandoned each one midway in favor of something newer, shinier, more immediately gratifying.

Serina's gloved fingers brushed against a discarded datapad on a nearby table, its screen cracked but still flickering with a delayed livestream feed. The distorted, pixelated reflections of viewers clamored for attention in the chat—an audience unseen but ever-present. A ghostly choir of sycophants and voyeurs.

Her gaze lifted, sharp and knowing, the hint of a smile curling at the edge of her lips.

How utterly fascinating.

Dekaltis had been denied Adarlon.

Serina knew this before stepping into the room, of course. She had known it before she even set foot on the planet. Darth Malum, in his ever-so-predictable wisdom, had deemed Dekaltis "unfit" for the task of governance. Too chaotic, too unpredictable, too much of a wildcard to be entrusted with something as delicate as planetary rule. Instead, he had handed the reins to one of his own trusted lackeys—a creature of obedience rather than brilliance. A pathetic display of cowardice, really.

And now? Dekaltis had been discarded, left adrift in a system that had no intention of accommodating her ambitions.

Malum had seen an obstacle. Serina saw an opportunity.

She moved further into the room, her presence calm but deliberate, the sound of her boots barely audible against the polished flooring. Every step measured. Every breath composed. She was not here to plead or offer empty words of encouragement. No. She was here to reshape the narrative entirely.

After all, what was control but the careful manipulation of perception?

Her voice, when she finally spoke, was soft—like silk sliding over steel.

"You should have been the one to rule this world."

A statement, not a question. Not an opinion. A fact, as immutable as the Force itself.

Serina's gaze traveled the room once more, taking in the chaos, the disarray, the raw, unfiltered energy that pulsed beneath the surface of Dekaltis' existence. A creature of impulse. A mind unbound by conventional order. Dangerous in the wrong hands, but infinitely valuable in the right ones.

Her hands folded neatly before her, her expression unreadable, save for the faintest glint of something deeper lurking beneath.

"Darth Malum is a fool," she continued, the name slipping from her lips like a curse, deliberate in its weight. "He sees only what he fears. A mistake many make when confronted with power they do not understand."

She let the words settle, allowed them to slither into the cracks of frustration and wounded pride that had no doubt taken root. She did not rush. She did not push. Serina knew the game all too well.

"You are not one to be caged, Dekaltis. You are not one to be cast aside. I suspect you know that better than anyone."

A pause. The faintest tilt of her head.

"So tell me…" The amusement in her tone was subtle, a mere flicker beneath the surface. "What do you intend to do about it?"

 

[Darth Dekaltis]

Serina Calis​

Left adrift.

It was a feeling the girl despised.

Boredom

Dekaltis was always one to have a short attention span. She hated sitting still. She hated feeling of a lack of any sort of stimulation. She wasn't gaining XP, she wasn't forwarding her goals, she wasn't completing quests.

She was just...idle. Like the player was away from the controller.

She had seen Serina coming. One of the ways she had staved off her boredom, hacking into the cameras of the city. She could see it all, the frivolous lives of every person in the city. All at once, everyone. Millions of people, just trying to live their lives.

She could've ruled this world. She still could, but...

The appeal was waning in her mind. She really didn't care about being a governor, what she cared about was people caring about her. She needed people to care. She was the protagonist, after all. The main character.

Serina began to speak, and Dekaltis...didn't seem to react to it. The painted skin of the girl seemed unmoving as she stared at Serina, unblinking. She considered for a moment if she could just kill this one, but that would only leave her once more in a state of boredom.

The words meant very little. She had tuned them out.

But she saw an opportunity.

A chance to find a path away from boredom.

"What do You intend to let me do?" Was her only response, a response almost mechanical in it's tone. Dekaltis wanted something to do.

What was this new sith willing to offer her?

​

 

[Serina Calis]

Heart Breaker.
Location: Adarlon
Objective: Find more tools.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Darth Dekaltis

"Insanity, is for the gullible, Sanity, is for the weak. Better to find an inbetween."​

Serina did not respond immediately.

Instead, she allowed silence to stretch between them, filling the space like a lingering specter. Most would rush to answer, eager to impress or prove their worth. Serina was not most. She understood the nature of this game—knew that patience, like the Force itself, was a tool to be wielded.

Dekaltis was watching her, that much was clear. But was she truly listening? Unlikely. The Sith before her was not one to be swayed by mere words. No, if she wanted to sink her hooks into this one, she would have to offer something far more enticing.

Serina took a slow step forward, the dim glow of a nearby screen casting long shadows against the polished floor.

"Let?" She echoed, tilting her head just so, the faintest glint of amusement flickering in her ice-blue eyes. "No, Dekaltis. You misunderstand me."

Another step. She did not rush. Did not crowd the space between them.

"I am not here to let you do anything. That is what lesser Sith would do. They dangle a leash before you and expect you to bite."

A pause. The words were not spoken harshly, nor were they coated in the false syrup of flattery. They were simply… observations. Truths, laid bare.

Serina reached out, idly plucking a discarded power cell from a nearby counter. She turned it over in her gloved hands, examining it with the same care one might give a delicate artifact. A meaningless gesture to some. A calculated one to her.

"Tell me something, Dekaltis," she mused, voice almost distant, as though the question was a mere afterthought. "What do you think you are?"

A simple question on the surface, but Serina watched carefully. This was not about what Dekaltis would say—words were easy, fleeting. It was about how she would react. The subtle shifts in body language, the flickers of emotion she could not suppress.

A mind like hers—fractured, chaotic, unpredictable—did not respond to the conventional. It craved the unexpected, the unscripted. Serina would oblige.

She rolled the power cell between her fingers before setting it down with a soft click.

"You are not a governor. You know that. You are not a servant, either. Nor are you just another Sith, clawing their way up a ladder they had no hand in building."

She let the words settle, allowed them to brush against the jagged edges of Dekaltis' mind. The truth was, she had already begun weaving the strings. A subtle shift in language, a repositioning of perception. Not what are you? but what do you think you are? A question that placed power in the one answering, feeding into the illusion of control.

Serina smiled, slow and knowing.

"You see yourself as the master of all, as the one who will choose their path."

 

[Darth Dekaltis]

Tag: Serina Calis​

Serina had taken a step forward, and Dekaltis responded by leaning forward. Closer and closer, invading Serina's personal space, until their noses were nearly touching.

"What do I think I am?" Her tone was...twisted. Unhinged. She believed every word she said, and yet every word she said clashed with reality. "I'm the Moon Runner. Do you know what that is?"

Dekaltis held a hand out, the single finger invading the space between then. A spark of sith lightning flicked from it, lighting up both their faces in the urban hell's dull neon glow.

"Malum kept me on a leash for a good reason. I hurt people, they tell me. I don't think so. They're just free XP. I get stronger, and that means I win. Are you gonna give me more XP, or are you gonna become some?"

​

 

[Serina Calis]

Heart Breaker.
Location: Adarlon
Objective: Find more tools.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Darth Dekaltis

"Insanity, is for the gullible, Sanity, is for the weak. Better to find an inbetween."​

Serina did not flinch.

As the erratic spark of Sith lightning danced between them, illuminating their faces in an eerie, flickering glow, she remained perfectly still, a predator studying its prey with detached fascination. Dekaltis leaned in, their noses nearly touching, her presence an electric storm of unpredictability and raw, unchecked impulse.

"The Moon Runner," Serina repeated, her tone measured, as if tasting the name on her tongue for the first time. She did not scoff. Did not dismiss it. No—she leaned into it, letting the words slip into her cadence like a subtle algorithm adjusting its output.

"Interesting."

A lie? Perhaps. But it did not matter.

What mattered was the story. The illusion.

Serina's gloved fingers moved slowly, deliberately, plucking the tiniest trace of residual static from the air. She turned her palm over, watching the lingering energy flicker and die against her skin. A meaningless gesture to the untrained eye. But Dekaltis wasn't untrained, was she? No. She was watching, analyzing, waiting for input, for response—like a system hungry for new code.

"XP is wasted in stagnation," Serina murmured, her voice dipping into something softer, something almost conspiratorial. She was no longer just speaking to Dekaltis. No, she was playing along, stepping into the world this one had built in her mind. "Malum thought he was keeping you on a leash, but tell me this—was it really a leash? Or was it just bad game design?"

A pause. A shift. A recalibration of the narrative.

Serina's lips curled into the faintest smirk, the kind that suggested she had seen the code behind the screen, that she knew.

"You were put in a side quest. Some filler mission while the real story played out without you. You weren't being 'controlled,' Dekaltis. You were being sidelined."

Another seed planted. Another delicate push.

Then, she tilted her head, her expression shifting as though considering, calculating.

"XP doesn't mean anything if the game us trash, does it? No new enemies, no new rewards. If everything is just the same grind, over and over, how is that winning? How is that even playing?"

Her voice remained even, smooth. She never rose to meet the manic energy that Dekaltis exuded—no, she let it come to her, let it wrap itself around her words like a snake coiling around prey.

"I'm not here to hold a leash. I'm here because I'm offering you a better game."

Serina's hand, ever so slowly, lifted between them—not in caution, not in hesitation, but as if she were gesturing toward the unseen, the untapped, the potential.

"Malum made a mistake. He thought you could be contained, that you could be slotted into his script. But you and I both know the best characters aren't NPCs."

Another shift. Another reframe.

"So let's talk about XP. You don't just want it, do you? No, no. You want the right kind. The big quests. The ones that matter."

Her voice dipped lower, a whisper just above the hum of the city outside.

"I have one for you, Dekaltis."

She let the words hang in the air, waiting. Not giving. Not commanding. Offering. Because that was how you truly controlled someone like this—not by forcing them into a role, but by making them believe they were choosing it for themselves.

Serina's smile deepened, knowing, inviting.

 

[Darth Dekaltis]

Tag: Serina Calis ​

Delaktis studied Serina like a predator studies it's next meal.

Her response was a simple, almost mechanical one.

"Prove it."

Moon Runner had seen so many people lie to her. Malum wasn't the first. She wouldn't be fooled again.

 

[Serina Calis]

Heart Breaker.
Location: Adarlon
Objective: Find more tools.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Darth Dekaltis

"Insanity, is for the gullible, Sanity, is for the weak. Better to find an inbetween."​

Serina did not hesitate.

She met Dekaltis' stare with quiet certainty, her icy blue gaze unwavering, unshaken. This was the moment—the fulcrum upon which everything balanced. A lesser Sith might have recoiled, might have tried to assert dominance with raw power or empty promises. But Serina?

She knew better.

This was not about proving anything in the conventional sense. Dekaltis wasn't looking for logic, wasn't waiting for some grand speech to sway her. No, she was waiting for something real. Something that cut through the static.

So Serina moved.

Not fast. Not aggressively. But deliberately.

She reached to her belt, unclipping a small, unassuming datapad. A flick of her wrist activated the holo-display, a soft cyan glow illuminating the air between them.

The screen pulsed with scrolling data, but Serina wasn't looking at it. She was watching Dekaltis.

"Here's how this works," she said smoothly, tilting the screen just enough for Dekaltis to glimpse the feed. "I don't offer words. I offer action."

She tapped the screen once.

A live security feed flickered into view—a grainy, high-angle shot of a nondescript landing pad somewhere in the lower districts of Adarlon. A freighter was docked there, sleek and unmarked, surrounded by a handful of figures clad in dark, utilitarian armor.

"That ship belongs to a smuggler named Arlek Venn. A nobody, really. Except he's carrying something that the Sith Empire considers… valuable."

Serina glanced up, her expression unreadable.

"A data core. High-grade, encrypted, the kind of thing they don't even trust their own people with. And right now? It's just sitting there. Unprotected. Waiting."

She let the silence stretch, let the implication settle in.

Then she tilted her head, her voice dipping into something conspiratorial.

"You want XP? Then take it. No oversight. No orders. No leash. Just you, proving what we both already know—you're the best player in this game."

She flicked the screen off and tossed the datapad onto a nearby table, as if it were nothing more than a discarded piece of clutter.

Then she took a step back.

Not to retreat. Not to cower. But to give Dekaltis exactly what she had asked for—space to make her own choice.

Serina's smile was subtle, barely there.

"So what do you say, Moon Runner?" Her tone was almost playful now, an edge of amusement woven into the words. "Let's see if you're still just grinding side quests… or if you're ready for the main storyline."

 

[Darth Dekaltis]

Tag: Serina Calis

Dekaltis...smiled.

It was that kind of smile that scares you. The kind of smile that keeps people up at night. The kind of smile you see when someone is about to kick a cat across a room, just for the fuck of it.

"Lead the way, Serina Calis, age 20, height 1.8 meters. Lead me to the main quest, and don't get in my way."

​

 

[Serina Calis]

Heart Breaker.
Location: Adarlon
Objective: Find more tools.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Darth Dekaltis

"Insanity, is for the gullible, Sanity, is for the weak. Better to find an inbetween."​

Serina watched that smile spread across Dekaltis' face, and for the first time in this exchange, she understood exactly what she had brought into motion.

There was something broken in the way Dekaltis grinned. Not just unhinged—wrong, in a way that most Sith did not allow themselves to be. Sith killed for power, for control, for ambition. Dekaltis killed because, in the world she had created for herself, everything was a game. And what was a game without violence? Without winning?

Serina had played this game before.

The difference was, she always won.

Her expression didn't change. She simply watched, absorbing every flicker of movement in Dekaltis' frame, every micro-expression, every tiny shift in her posture. The knowledge in her voice—her name, her age, her height, for Force's sake—none of it was accidental. Dekaltis wanted her to know that she had been watching. She wanted Serina to feel watched. It was a move meant to destabilize, to put the other person off-balance.

Serina refused to stumble.

Instead, she exhaled slowly, deliberately, before offering the faintest, smallest smirk in return.

"You're already in it."

A simple answer. One designed to disrupt the expected rhythm of conversation, to break the flow before Dekaltis could twist it to her advantage. It wasn't about giving her what she wanted—it was about keeping her chasing what she thought she wanted.

Serina turned on her heel, her movements smooth, measured, effortless in their control.

"Come on, then."

She didn't look back.

She didn't need to.

Dekaltis would follow.

---

The two cut through the neon-lit corridors of the Sapphire Heights district, weaving through empty side streets and shadowed alleyways. Above them, towering holo-billboards flickered with shifting advertisements, the faces of pop stars and propaganda figures cast in artificial light across the steel jungle. The real Adarlon—the entertainment capital, the illusion of civilization—was up there, in the high-rises, where the elite indulged in their performances of power.

Down here? Down here was where real power moved in silence.

Serina's pace was steady but unhurried. She didn't ask if Dekaltis was still following. Didn't check to see if she had lost interest. She already knew. She had read her well enough. This one wasn't leaving—not yet. Not until she had her XP. Not until she had her next hit of whatever dopamine-fueled reward system she had built inside that fractured mind of hers.

A small side door loomed ahead, barely visible between two abandoned speeder racks. Serina approached without hesitation, pressing her gloved hand against the biometric lock. There was a soft chime, a hiss of depressurization, and then the door slid open.

A private landing bay. Low-lit. Minimal security. Exactly as she had planned.

The freighter sat at the far end of the hangar, its hull sleek and dark, illuminated only by the blinking red status lights along its exterior. A good ship, the kind meant for smuggling. Quick entry, quick exit.

But more important were the men surrounding it.

Serina's eyes swept the figures lingering by the loading ramp—six of them. Too many for mere pilots, too few for a real crew. No uniforms, just dark, nondescript clothing, armor-weave jackets, and weapons strapped to their belts. Mercenaries, likely ex-military. Professionals, but not loyalists. They were here for the money, nothing more.

Good.

That made them predictable.

She came to a stop just inside the threshold of the hangar, standing in the dim glow of the overhead lights. Then, without a word, she tilted her head slightly—just enough to glance at Dekaltis from the corner of her vision.

"There's your main quest."

She lifted her chin slightly, her voice unhurried, almost bored.

"Six enemies. Mid-tier difficulty. Weapons: Mostly blasters, one with a vibroknife. Gear: Some armor, but nothing that'll hold up against a real strike. No Force sensitives. The objective? Get inside the ship, take the data core, and do it fast—because the second one of them gets a distress call out, we'll have Sith reinforcements in minutes."

She turned fully then, facing Dekaltis without a trace of hesitation, her expression carefully controlled.

"You wanted the main storyline? Here it is. So tell me, Moon Runner—"

And then, for the first time, she leaned in. Just slightly. Just enough.

"—are you the type to grind XP the slow way? Or are you ready for a power boost?"

The words were a challenge, but not a command. That was the trick with this one—she couldn't be told what to do. She had to believe she was choosing it. Serina wasn't offering her permission. She was offering her a script rewrite.

And Dekaltis?

She was going to take it.

 

[Darth Dekaltis]

Tag: Serina Calis​

As they made their way through the city, Serina, while not keeping track of her new friend, was made acutely aware of her from the noise.

One thing was abundantly clear. Dekaltis had the worst case of ADHD imaginable, and the sense of humor of a toddler. Not in the fun sense, but in the sense that she found wild glee out of just...breaking things. Anything, everything. She moved through the city, literally dancing through the rooftops as she kept her distance from above, clearly a learned trait from some game. And yet, whatever advantage that gave her in the stealth department was negated by her need to smash whatever came across her path.

That, and the mumbling.

It was easy to miss at first. She would talk to herself, something easy to write off if you already assumed she was crazy. But...she wasn't just talking to herself. She was talking to someone else. Someone only she could see. Someone she referred to by several, often changing names, but more often than not, it was just 'chat'.

Unfortunately for Serina, she had made one fatal error.

She had let Dekaltis get distracted.

Without even letting Serina finish, Dekatis ignited her saber, and threw it into the garage, guiding it and letting it slice through the mercenaries without a second thought.

"What was that? Sorry, I was responding to Chat."

 

[Serina Calis]

Heart Breaker.
Location: Adarlon
Objective: Find more tools.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Darth Dekaltis

"Insanity, is for the gullible, Sanity, is for the weak. Better to find an inbetween."​

The screams echoed only briefly—cut off mid-breath, mid-thought—as the red arc of Dekaltis' saber carved a flawless, chaotic path through the hangar.

Sparks danced along the floor. Bodies collapsed. And then silence.

Serina didn't flinch. Not when the saber ignited, not when it flew, not even when the mercenaries fell like puppets with their strings sliced. She merely watched.

And she understood.

Dekaltis wasn't erratic. She wasn't impulsive. Not in the way most Sith would define it. She was compelled.

She lived inside a constant feedback loop—an invisible audience fueling her actions, validating every destruction, every indulgence, every kill. She didn't just crave attention. She required it. Like air. Like power.

Serina's mistake hadn't been trusting her to follow orders. It had been assuming Dekaltis saw orders at all.

When Dekaltis turned, nonchalantly explaining her massacre with the vacant cheer of someone responding to a comment thread, Serina finally broke her silence.

No long speech. No scolding. That wouldn't work. Her mind was elsewhere, fractured between the now and a fantasy no one else could see.

Serina simply said, with deadly calm:

"Chat got you blood."

She stepped forward into the hangar, stepping over a smoking corpse without glancing down.

"But Chat isn't going to tell you what's inside that data core, are they?"

A pause. Short enough to hold attention. Weighted enough to hint at mystery. She turned slightly, just enough so Dekaltis could see the side of her face—half-shadowed, haloed by dim emergency lighting.

"They'll cheer when you kill. Clap when you destroy." Another step, a low, velvet voice, sharp and clear. "But they'll never show you what you missed."

She stopped beside the ruined ramp, where the freighter's scorched hatch still hissed with residual heat.

"XP is cheap. Secrets aren't."

No speeches. No plans. Just fragments of dialogue, delivered like quest flavor text. Teasers. Hooks. Breadcrumbs.

She needed to speak the way Dekaltis played.

Serina knelt briefly, pulled a smoking access panel off the ramp, and tossed it aside with a clang. Then, looking back over her shoulder, she added—quietly, with just enough challenge to sting:

"Or is Chat afraid of lore?"

A smirk. A glint of steel in her voice.

She didn't wait. She slipped inside the freighter, leaving the door open—knowing that the one thing more powerful than a command for Dekaltis…

…was the fear of missing out.

 

[Darth Dekaltis]

Tag: Serina Calis​

Dekaltis just stood there for a moment. Not moving, not...breathing. It was as if a computer had ran out of ram, and was taking a moment to chug. AS her saber returned to her, her arm moved, but not her eyes, catching the blade as if it was an automatic function.

>This girl is using us!

>Zap her!

>Kick her ass!

>But the lore guys!

Dekaltis instead, slowly walked over, once again invading Serina's personal space. She stared deep into those eyes, and pouted like a toddler. "What does lore get me? XP makes me stronger. Lore is just boring reading..."

Her saber flicked up, right under Serina's chin. "You want to Bore me?" She spoke that word as if it was a vile, disgusting word.

 

[Serina Calis]

Heart Breaker.
Location: Adarlon
Objective: Find more tools.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Darth Dekaltis

"Insanity, is for the gullible, Sanity, is for the weak. Better to find an inbetween."​

Serina did not move as the saber pressed under her chin.

Not a blink.
Not a breath of fear.
Only a slow, deliberate blink—as if Dekaltis were not a threat, but an inconvenience.

The faint hiss of the blade brushing against her skin did nothing to mar her poise. In fact, it seemed to awaken something far more dangerous within her. A shadow behind her gaze stirred.

Serina's eyes rose to meet Dekaltis', and what stared back was not the careful, calculating mask she had worn since the start of their encounter. No. That mask was gone.

What Dekaltis saw now was the truth.

There was no warmth in Serina Calis. No empathy. No camaraderie.
Only control.
Only domination.
Only the cold, decadent hunger of a woman who would unmake the galaxy just to hear it beg.

A thin, sultry smile unfurled across her lips—not in pleasure, but in contempt. She leaned into the blade's energy, just enough that it seared the underside of her chin with a delicate wisp of smoke, a thin line of blackened fabric and scorched flesh.

She didn't even flinch.

"Lore...?" she purred. Her voice was like black velvet soaked in poison. "You think lore is for the weak? Child, lore is power that doesn't ask your permission. It doesn't shout. It whispers."

She raised her hand.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Fingers flexing like a spider preparing to strike.

The very air seemed to recoil from her, darkness condensing around her palm—not the wild, untamed fury of a battlefield, but the focused, intimate malice of a soul who knew how to kill a body, a spirit, a mind, with surgical precision.

Force lightning coiled between her fingers, not bright, not theatrical—but dense, black-violet, and sickly, like a storm that brewed under flesh rather than in the sky. It didn't crackle. It hissed. It whispered. It hungered.

And Serina's voice dropped, lower now, laced with the seduction of ancient evil.

"Lore is what split the Jedi and birthed the Sith. Lore is what allowed a slave to become an Emperor. Lore is the key that turns the locks in the minds of kings, and queens, and monsters."

Her hand pulsed with unspent power, inches from Dekaltis' chest.

"Experience makes you strong, yes… but only in the way beasts are strong. Temporary. Predictable. Pathetic."

The lightning didn't strike. Not yet. It waited, writhing like a leashed beast, restrained only by the sheer will of the woman who wielded it.

Serina took another step forward, pressing the space between them until Dekaltis would have to move or feel the full caress of that corrupt, crawling energy against her skin.

"You are not my equal. You never were. I adjusted for you because you amused me. Because I thought, perhaps, you could be shaped into something useful."

Her eyes narrowed, voice like silk dragging across glass.

"But you've mistaken my tolerance for weakness. So let me be clear, Moonrunner—I do not bore. I educate. And the price of ignorance…"

Her voice dropped to a whisper, and it was intimate now—terrifyingly gentle.

"…is pain."

The lightning flared in her hand, spiraling up her arm like a serpent made of hatred. It bathed her features in violet light, revealing not just a Sith—but something older. More dangerous. The kind of corruption that didn't scream or laugh or flail—it invited. It corrupted. It consumed.

She let the moment hang, a razor's edge of tension. The saber against her throat. The lightning barely restrained.

And then, softly, cruelly:

"Now move aside… before I show you how a real story begins."

There was no humor left in Serina's eyes. Only the promise of absolute, unapologetic dominance.

Dekaltis had been tolerated. Entertained. Toyed with.

But that ended here.

Serina would not speak her language again. From this moment on, if Dekaltis wished to remain in her presence, she would learn to listen. Or she would burn.