Public Korriban : Rituals of a Queen?

[Zori Galea]

(Zori lets out a breath—half laugh, half surrender.)

"Tell me this is more than rebellion....Tell me this is truth. MY TRUTH....OUR TRUTH...SIDE BY SIDE...."

 

[Elian Mareth]

(He leans in, forehead resting against hers. Their breathing syncing.)

"It’s the only thing that’s ever felt real."

They kiss—slow, deep, electric. Not rushed, not desperate. A claiming and a yielding. She pulls him toward the center of the room where cushions and silks rest around the flame.

Their robes fall away.

Skin meets skin.

The air pulses with the Force—not Light or Dark, but raw, wild connection. The storm outside intensifies as their passion builds, each movement more intimate, more symbolic.​

 

[Zori Galea]

As they move together, eyes locked, Zori whispers—not to Elian, but to something greater.

"No gods.

No masters.

Only this."

Their bond deepens, not just in flesh, but in spirit. The Force responds. The flame in the brazier flares with violet light, twisting upward like a spiral of power.

They collapse together, breathless. Entwined. Not lovers, not enemies. Something new. Something more.​

 

[Elian Mareth]

"What...What are we now?"

 

[Zori Galea]

(Zori smiles, her fingers tracing the scar on his chest.)

"Unwritten."

 

[Zori Galea]

WAR ROOM – THE BLACK SPIRE OF KORRIBAN – DAY

The chamber is cold and geometric—sharp edges, holograms glowing in red and amber. Maps of systems in flux hover in midair. Acolyte officers move like shadows between stations.

GENERAL VELETH RAYNE—tall, sharp-jawed, Woman—stands with arms folded behind her back, watching footage loop silently across a private console. Her eyes are fixed, unblinking.

On the screen: Zori and Elian, intertwined in firelight. The intimacy is unmistakable.

Behind her, footsteps approach. She doesn’t turn.​

 

[Zori Galea]

ZORI: "Enjoying the show?"

VELETH: (quiet, measured) "I watched it happen in real time. Did you know that?"

ZORI: "Of course I did."

(Zori steps into the chamber, draped in her command robes, her hair pinned back like a crown. Regal. Calm. Dangerous.)

"You’ve always watched me too closely, General. Even when I was still bleeding in the dust."

VELETH: "Because I believed in you."

(She finally turns to face Zori, eyes lit with betrayal—but beneath it, worry)

 

[Zori Galea]

VELETH: "He’s Jedi. He wears their oath in his bones. And yet you let him touch your skin. Your mind. In front of the walls."

ZORI : " Because the walls needed to see it."

(A tense pause. Veleth clenches her jaw)

VELETH: "You let weakness parade as devotion."

ZORI : (With a cold glare) "No. I let truth parade as power."

VELETH: "Power doesn’t lie in intimacy. It lies in control."

ZORI : "Then you’ve never truly wielded it."

(She steps closer now—just a breath away. Zori’s voice drops, velvet and steel.)

ZORI: "You think I faltered? That I compromised our vision for pleasure?"

(She leans in, eyes locking.)

"No, General. I seduced a Jedi with nothing but truth. And he stayed. Because he saw what we’re building, and he believed."

 

[Zori Galea]

VELETH: "Or maybe he believes in you. Not the cause."

(A long, cold pause. Zori’s eyes narrow. There’s a flicker of something wounded… then gone.)

ZORI: "Good. Let him believe in me. That belief will burn empires."

VELETH: "And if it breaks you my Queen?"

(Zori turns away now, walking to the center of the war table. She places both hands on the glowing projection of the galaxy.)

ZORI: "Then I will rebuild myself from the ashes. But first—We rewrite the Force."

(looking over her shoulder)

"If that’s too much for you, General…you may kneel, or you may leave."

(Veleth doesn’t move. Her voice is steady, but low.)

VELETH: "I won’t kneel to sentiment."

ZORI: "Then you’ll learn it has teeth."

 

[Zori Galea]

PRIVATE CHAMBERS – NIGHT

The storm has passed, but Korriban’s sky remains blood-red through the high, narrow window. The firelight is dim, casting long, dancing shadows across the chamber walls.

ZORI stands before a cracked mirror—its surface warped and veined like ancient glass. She stares at her reflection. Pale skin. Tired eyes. A smudge of Elian’s touch still clings to her collarbone.

Her robes are open at the throat. Her hair is loose, like it was the night before.

She speaks aloud, barely above a whisper.​

 

[Zori Galea]

"Do you even know what you’re doing anymore?"

A long pause. She keeps staring into the mirror. Into herself.

"You called him a tool. A vessel."

"A story the galaxy would swallow whole."

"The fallen Jedi. The Queen of the ashes."

"You wrote the myth."

She steps closer to the mirror, touching her reflection like she doesn’t recognize it.

"So why do you dream of his voice when you close your eyes? Why does your pulse stutter when he looks at you like you’re worth saving?"

A bitter laugh escapes her lips. She shakes her head.

"He thinks you’re the future. That there’s good buried somewhere in all this rot."

She presses her hand flat to the mirror, whispering now.

"But what if I don’t want to be good?"

Silence. The fire pops. The shadows twist.

"What if I only want him?"

She steps back, pacing now, her mind unraveling in sharp fragments.

"Is this weakness? Is it strategy? Or is it something worse—something real?"

 

[Zori Galea]

She stops. Looks up, as if the stone ceiling might hold the answer. Her voice hardens, trembling with fear and fury.

"Don’t be real."

"Don’t matter to me."

She closes her eyes.

"Because if you do…

then I’ll burn the galaxy and myself trying to keep you."

And then—silence. The weight of her confession hangs in the air like smoke.

Behind her, a distant echo—footsteps. A door opening.

She doesn’t turn.​

(softly, to herself)

"Please don’t let it be him."

Zori’s eyes are still closed. Her breath steady, but shallow.

From the doorway, ELIAN steps quietly inside. His presence is subtle, like a whisper in the Force. But Zori feels it. She doesn’t turn.

"You heard me."

 

[Elian Mareth]

"I did."

 

[Zori Galea]

A long pause. Zori opens her eyes, her voice a knife dulled by exhaustion.


"Come to scold me, Jedi?

Tell me I’m straying too far? That the woman you touched last night was a lie?"

 

[Elian Mareth]

"No.

(softly)

I came to ask why she isn’t enough."

 

[Zori Galea]

Zori turns then. Her eyes shine with something dangerous and fragile.

"Because she can’t be. You saw what I’ve built. What’s begun here. The children whispering mantras in ancient tongues."

"The warriors who bowed not to fear, but to belief."

 

[Elian Mareth]

"Belief in what, Zori??? "

 

[Zori Galea]

(in a low, bitter tone)

"IN ME..."

 

[Elian Mareth]

He walks closer, slowly, like approaching a wounded animal. Or maybe a goddess with cracked porcelain skin.

"I believe in you too.

But not as a weapon."

 

[Zori Galea]

Zori’s jaw tightens. She looks away.

"Then you believe in a ghost."

"Because that woman you want? The one you held?

She doesn’t survive this war."