Public Korriban : Rituals of a Queen?

[Elian Mareth]

ELIAN enters, hesitant. Unarmed, no robe, no mask of Jedi serenity—just the man. Just him.

 

[Zori Galea]

(She softly utters the words)

"You came."

 

[Elian Mareth]

A long silence stretches. He approaches slowly, his boots echoing softly on the stone floor.

"I thought about you for years. Wondering if I imagined you. The girl in the fire."

 

[Zori Galea]

(She smirks faintly)

"You didn’t imagine her.

But she’s dead. You left her there."

 

[Elian Mareth]

"I know."

(He looks down. His voice breaks slightly.)

"But I never stopped wondering what would’ve happened…

if I’d just stayed one more night."

 

[Zori Galea]

Zori turns now—slowly. Her eyes lock with his. There’s heat there. Sorrow. Something old. Something dangerous.

"Then wonder no longer."

She steps forward—close. Their breath mingles together. The air between them tightens like a drawn wire.

"Do you remember what I asked you? That night in the tent?"

 

[Elian Mareth]

“Why does it feel like you forgot me? And...yes I recall... I recall everything."

 

[Zori Galea]

"And yet, you’re still Jedi. Still bound by their chains. I knew you were familiar once you first stepped into my throne room. This is FATE."

 

[Elian Mareth]

"What if I’m tired of chains?"

(He asks while trying to control his breathing. It was clear something had a hold of him. Something dark... Something powerful)

 

[Zori Galea]

"Then show me."

Their lips meet—soft at first, then desperate. Years of tension erupting in silence and heat. But even as she kisses him, her eyes open. Watching. Calculating.

WITHIN ZORI’S MIND
Through their connection, she sees his memories. The Jedi Council. His private guilt. His doubts. His strengths. His flaws.
​

They break apart. Breathless.

 

[Elian Mareth]

"What is this?...I... I understand and yet, I don't..."

 

[Zori Galea]

"A beginning.

And an end."

She takes his hand—firm, commanding—and places it on the Prime Holocron resting nearby.

"You were always the key. Not because you loved me.

But because you were the only Jedi who ever truly doubted the Jedi."

 

[Elian Mareth]

"Zori—"

 

[Zori Galea]

"Shh. Let it happen."

The holocron pulses. Power coils around them both like a storm waiting to strike.

(She then whispers in his mind)

"Now FALL… with me."

 

[Elian Mareth]

CLIFFSIDE BALCONY – PRE-DAWN
​

The first hints of blue seep across the horizon, casting eerie hues on the jagged surface of the planet. The wind howls through the temple spires like distant voices whispering warnings.

ELIAN stands at the edge of the balcony, his Jedi communicator in hand, thumb hovering over the activation switch. His brow is furrowed, eyes heavy with conflict.

The device chirps softly. He starts to activate it—then stops

(He thinks to himself)

((Zori Galea is alive. She’s building something dangerous. But it doesn’t feel like darkness. It feels like… clarity.))

He exhales, and the wind carries his doubt out into the wastes.

 

[Zori Galea]

ZORI approaches silently, now dressed in sleek crimson and black robes. Regal. Seductive. Sovereign.

"Still trying to decide what version of me the Council deserves to hear?"

 

[Elian Mareth]

(turning around startled, he responds quickly)

"You’re in my head."

 

[Zori Galea]

"I didn’t have to be. You wear your conflict like a second robe."

 

[Elian Mareth]

"I should report you. What you’re building—it defies the Jedi Code, it fractures balance—"

 

[Zori Galea]

(stern while stepping closer)

"The Code is a myth wrapped in fear."

"It teaches you to amputate what makes you real. Love. Grief. Desire. Doubt."

She stops just in front of him, her hand grazing his chest.

"But you didn’t cut those parts out, Elian. You kept them."

"You kept me."