Private Invitation

[Nyxira Valis]

Unknown Regions

​

The fortress loomed like an obsidian titan against the churning skies, its spires tearing through the thick storm clouds that raged endlessly overhead. Lightning slashed across the heavens in violent arcs, illuminating the dark citadel for the briefest of moments before plunging it back into shadow. The storm was ceaseless, unnatural — crafted and maintained by a will strong enough to defy nature itself.

At its highest tower, behind walls of blackened stone and steel, Darth Nythera stood, her violet eyes glowing faintly in the dim chamber. From here, she watched over her domain, her influence stretching far beyond these hidden lands, reaching into the farthest corners of the galaxy where ambition still burned.

And today, her gaze had fallen upon Serina Calis .

The whispers of the Dark Side traveled far, carrying tales of a Jedi no longer bound to the chains of the Order. A Padawan turned seeker, drawn to the ancient rites of the Sith, the forgotten knowledge buried beneath layers of dogma and weakness. She had delved into rituals that others would fear, stepped onto paths that led only into shadow. And that intrigued Nyxira.

She had sent no message through the Force — Serina would feel no distant presence, no beckoning call. No, this invitation was far more direct. Crimson-clad sentinels, their armor etched with sigils of power, had been dispatched to locate her. They moved through the galaxy with singular purpose, carrying only a set of coordinates and a warning:

"You have been chosen. Follow these coordinates, alone. Share them, and you forfeit your life."

No threats. No pleasantries. Only certainty.

If Serina was as worthy as the whispers suggested, she would understand the gravity of this invitation. She would take the path offered, stepping into the unknown, seeking answers she would find nowhere else.

And if she did… she would come to the world of endless storms.

Where destiny awaited.

Serina Calis ​

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Rakata Prime, Unknown Location
Tag: Nyxira Valis ​

Serina Calis lounged in her obsidian throne, a glass of dark crimson wine resting lazily in her fingers. The air in her underground sanctum hummed with a subtle energy, a quiet, lingering presence of the Force that bent and swayed under her will. Rakata Prime will become hers—its ruins, its secrets, its darkness—and from here, she will weave her own empire in the shadows. The obsidian walls of her throne room absorbed the flickering golden light of the sconces, lending an almost surreal depth to the chamber, where every movement seemed swallowed by the void.

Her eyes, sharp and knowing, studied the rolled parchment on the polished surface of the black stone table beside her. A simple set of coordinates. A warning. A challenge. The scent of sealing wax still lingered in the air, though no ordinary courier had delivered this summons. The crimson-clad sentinels had come and gone, leaving behind no trace but their purpose.

"Serina Calis" Serina murmured, rolling the name on her tongue as if savoring an exotic flavor. The whispers of the Dark Side had long since abandoned their subtlety—her name was spoken in hushed reverence and envious fear among those who still clung to their old masters. She had broken free of the chains of the Jedi, yet refused to bow before the Sith. And now, it seemed, one of the darkest had taken notice.

She swirled the wine in her glass, watching the way the liquid clung to the rim before sliding back down like a slow-moving tide. A lesser being would have taken this as a summons, a call to bend knee and swear fealty. But Serina was no lesser being. She was a seeker, an orchestrator of fate, one who would carve her own path into the bones of history.

Her lips curved into a knowing smirk. "You have been chosen." How quaint. How delightfully arrogant.

Rising gracefully, she strode toward the towering map display dominating the far wall of her chamber, its hololithic projection casting a ghostly glow against the darkness. She keyed in the coordinates, watching as a sector unfamiliar to her flickered into view. A world of endless storms. A fitting backdrop for this meeting of minds.

For a brief moment, Serina simply stood there, considering. The invitation was clear—come alone. That, at least, was amusing. This Darth Nythera sought to impose limitations, as if fear or caution would shape Serina's decision. As if she did not already exist in a realm where trust was an illusion, where survival was dictated by will alone.

She exhaled softly, placing her glass back onto the table with a delicate clink. Then, she turned to the shadows of her chamber, where unseen figures lurked in silent attendance.

"Prepare my ship." Her voice was smooth, unhurried, yet commanding. "But I leave alone."

A pause. The unseen figures did not question, but she could sense their unease. They had sworn themselves to her, the Circle of Ten, her chosen few—yet for this, they would not accompany her. That was the demand. That was the test.

As she moved toward the exit of her sanctum, the wine left forgotten, her mind turned not to fear, nor even caution, but anticipation. There was always something to gain, even in meetings of supposed equals.

And if this Darth Nythera believed she was summoning a mere student, let her.

 

[Nyxira Valis]

Unknown Regions

The storm howled through the blackened spires of the fortress, its endless fury cascading in sheets of rain that pounded the landing pad below. Jagged forks of lightning split the sky, illuminating the towering citadel in bursts of brilliant, crackling light before plunging it once more into the abyss of darkness. The very air vibrated with raw energy, thick with the power that had shaped this world into a relentless storm-torn wasteland.

And in the center of it all, Darth Nythera stood waiting.

The rain rolled off her dark cloak in rivulets, soaking the fabric as the storm lashed against her like a living thing. Yet she remained unmoved, unshaken. Beneath the shadow of her hood, long strands of raven hair clung to her pale skin, shifting slightly in the wind. The storm was hers, its rage her own. And her violet eyes, glowing with an unnatural brilliance, were fixed upon the sky — waiting.

She had felt Serina Calis long before she arrived.

The weight of her presence rippled through the Force, an echo of power unchained, a melody of defiance and ambition. A Padawan who had stepped beyond the fragile ideals of the Jedi, yet not so blind as to fall shackled beneath the Sith. A seeker, like herself. That was why she had called her here.

The gates of the fortress remained closed.

This meeting would not take place within the safety of her halls. Not yet. Not until Serina had taken her first step onto the storm-forged world that belonged to Nyxira alone.

Behind her, crimson-clad sentinels stood at attention, their armor gleaming even beneath the storm's relentless assault. Silent. Ready. Their weapons remained at their sides, but their presence was unmistakable — Serina was a guest, but one who would be met with caution.

The distant roar of a ship reached her ears, cutting through the wind and rain. She was here.

Nyxira's smirk was slight, but sharp, a glimmer of satisfaction passing through her expression as she exhaled softly. The storm had brought her what she sought. Now, it was time to see if Serina Calis was truly worthy of the invitation.

Serina Calis ​

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Rakata Prime, Unknown Location
Tag: Nyxira Valis ​

The shuttle's ramp descended with a hiss, steam curling through the rain as Serina Calis stepped forward, unhurried, into the storm's embrace. The downpour struck her in torrents, drenching the folds of her dark cloak, yet she carried herself as though untouched by the elements. Each step was measured, each movement deliberate, her presence an extension of the Force itself—a current of power, restrained but undeniable.

Her golden hair, slick with rain, clung to her skin in damp strands, framing a face adorned with amusement rather than reverence. The storm howled around her, but she did not flinch. Instead, she lifted her chin, eyes locking onto Darth Nythera's with a slow, knowing smile.

Serina halted a few paces from the Sith, just close enough for the distance between them to feel like a challenge left unspoken. Her gaze flickered to the crimson-clad sentinels for but a heartbeat before returning to Nythera, unconcerned, unimpressed.

She exhaled, lips curving. Then, finally, she spoke—her voice low, rich, dripping with an indulgent amusement that hinted at something far sharper beneath.

"Quite the welcome."

She let the words hang between them, studying the Sith with a gaze that carried the weight of silent understanding. Respect, but never submission. A careful game played between those who walked the same treacherous path.

The storm raged on.

 

[Nyxira Valis]

Unknown Regions

The storm raged on, lightning carving jagged scars through the blackened sky, but Nyxira remained still as Serina stepped forth into the storm's fury. Unshaken. Unbowed. The Sith Lord's violet eyes gleamed through the darkness as she met Serina's gaze, taking in the deliberate movements, the amusement in her expression, the confidence woven into her very presence.

Yes. This one was exactly as the whispers had described.

The silence between them stretched, the howling winds their only witness. Then, finally, Nyxira spoke, her voice smooth as the night, laced with quiet power.

"Welcome, Serina Calis."

She did not bow. She did not offer pleasantries. There was no need for such things here. Instead, she tilted her head ever so slightly, studying the golden-haired woman before her. Intrigue flickered in her sharp gaze.

"We have much to discuss."

With a turn, she strode toward the fortress's entrance, her cloak trailing behind her, the storm peeling away as if the darkness itself obeyed her will. The massive blackened doors groaned open at her approach, parting to reveal the shadows within.

"Come."

No invitation. A simple command.

The moment Serina stepped inside, the great doors shut behind them, sealing away the relentless storm. The transition was immediate — from chaos to eerie stillness. The dimly lit corridors stretched before them, their path illuminated by the flickering glow of sconces lining the walls. The crimson-armored sentinels did not follow. They were alone now.

Nyxira walked in measured strides, her boots clicking softly against the cold stone floors. She did not speak as they traversed the winding halls, the silence between them thick with unspoken meaning. A test, perhaps. A game played between two who understood the weight of power.

At last, they arrived.

A chamber, vast yet intimate. The flickering warmth of sconces lined the walls, casting deep shadows in the corners of the room. A long obsidian table dominated the center, upon which sat a delicate tea set, steam curling into the air. Opposite each other, two chairs, positioned not as adversaries, but equals.

Nyxira strode forward, at last lowering her hood.

Long raven hair spilled freely over her shoulders, its dark strands catching the firelight in waves of midnight silk. Her violet eyes — vibrant, unnatural — glowed in the dim room, piercing and unreadable as they fixed on Serina.

She gestured toward the table.

"Sit."

A pause. Then, as she reached for her own cup, her voice carried a note of quiet amusement.

"I have heard much about you."

Serina Calis ​

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Rakata Prime, Unknown Location
Tag: Nyxira Valis ​

Serina moved with the languid grace of a serpent, her steps slow, deliberate, unhurried as she crossed the threshold into Nyxira's domain. The heavy doors sealed behind her with an ominous finality, but if the act was meant to intimidate, it failed spectacularly. She welcomed the isolation, the game unfolding between them. The air was thick with power, with unspoken promises, with the tantalizing possibility of what was to come.

She followed in measured silence, her gaze flitting over the flickering sconces, the long corridors of obsidian and shadow. The fortress was a reflection of its master—imposing, dark, full of secrets waiting to be unraveled. How very... intimate.

By the time they entered the chamber, her smirk had deepened, her amusement settling in the slight tilt of her head. She watched as Nyxira lowered her hood, taking in the spill of raven-dark hair, the piercing glow of those unnatural violet eyes. Beautiful. Powerful. Dangerous. A fascinating combination.

And, most importantly, a challenge.

Serina stepped forward, her cloak parting as she lowered herself into the chair with languid ease, crossing one leg over the other with an air of indulgence. She reached for the delicate cup, lifting it with a slow, deliberate motion, letting the steam coil against her lips before she took a measured sip.

At last, she met Nyxira's gaze, her own blue eyes gleaming with something wicked beneath their surface.

"Oh?" A breathy hum, laced with intrigue, with pleasure at the weight of those words. She exhaled softly, setting her cup down with the faintest clink. "And tell me, Lord Nyxira... what is it you've heard?"

She leaned in slightly, the movement subtle yet calculated, the air between them shrinking by mere inches. Her voice, when she spoke again, dripped with the promise of something more, something dangerous, something intoxicating.

"Did they whisper of my hunger?" A slow smirk. "My insatiable curiosity?"

A pause, just long enough for the weight of the words to settle. She traced the rim of her cup with a single finger, a lazy, absent gesture, her gaze never leaving Nyxira's.

"Or did they warn you... that once I set my sights on something, I do not let go?"