The tops of her cheeks stung, chaffing, against the inherent heat of Mustafar. It had always been an inhospitable world of doom and barely contained ferocity. It was fitting that it tried to eschew them from its surface with the force of literal volcanic eruptions. The duel of the true conclusion between the pair of Sith Lords came to a direct standstill in the wake of her arrival. Not because her strength exceeded what they had brought to bear. Not because her words moved them. Not for any reason, other, that the mutual strings they'd sewn willingly into one another.
Strings that
neither party seemed willing to sever.
Darth Carnifex
was the first to respond. Not just in words—But by the act of speaking versus accepting the substantial sacrifice that she offered. It would have been simple for someone of such prolific might. She could see it, still. The sudden change in direction. A swift redirect of hateful, baleful energy, from Empyrean to his wife. To take, as no one, had ever been able to do no matter how hard they tried. That was the nature of Sith, was it not?
Consumption.
Be it power, wealth, people, or entire planets—Srina had seen both the past and present King of the Sith swallow them all without hesitation.
But they stilled, speaking of honor, and destiny. The pieces of the puzzle that were so garish slowly unraveled and with Empyrean's admission that he knew what their love had created, before his death, she felt some measure of distant and cold satisfaction. A single child was a glorious thing for her people. Two, twins, was exceedingly rare…And for that, she held a notion of stringent pride. To have them acknowledged by their father, at long last, was not the victory it should have been.
It was a death knell.
"But you will kill us, my love…Just…Not for that."
The words she spoke were inordinately heavy with acceptance.
Resignation. They had never spoken of the way Empyrean had come for her on Odavessa. They had never truly spoken about his current state, his power, nor the poison that had partially resurrected him. She could feel it. There were many things that had changed between them. Her right to walk through his mind remained unfettered…But it was a place she could no longer freely go. No longer call home, because it wasn't safe. It was the very reason that she had reached out to Carnifex not so long ago.
The great Butcher was a blight to many. Srina found him to be a dark beacon, a storm, made into a port to call. She had noted the same thing in her youth, a decade prior, but her eyes had been…Gilded, then. Blinded by a concept of neutrality. This was the danger. This was the truth. Her love and death wrapped so closely together that it oft felt like the sweetest, slow, asphyxiation.
Empyrean, Maliphant, was truly her other half. Her life.
Her death.
As she died, little by little, every day - While he was infected by the Worm.
The pale Echani remained still when a Sith Spirt reached through Empyrean with deadly intent. It was different than before and far less easily contained. A ghostly hand clawed toward her face but Srina couldn't make out who it was in the haze. She could taste an edge of old strength. Cultivated, rich, and malevolent. Empyrean struggled to maintain control and she could only…
Watch. Her presence had oft calmed him in the past, as it did now, but there was a cost. The spirits attacked her, then Carnifex—Only to be bound. Her unforgiving gaze swept over the red-haired Emperor with a critical eye.
She didn't know whether it was a relief or a horror to know that her husband was still there.
Trapped. Still present, somewhere, within the necrotic maelstrom he had become. If Empyrean had all the memories of Maliphant he would know instinctively that his directive was a waste of air. Srina could not leave him. Would not, leave them.
"…You know that I cannot do that."
Her voice was steady and quiet, but with the weight of legions. Her wrists slowly lowered and she stepped forward to cement herself more firmly in their way. The slight rebuttals that had been offered were weak, at best, and the notion of it was baffling. Srina wondered, lightly, when it had happened. When two ambitious and vastly intelligent Sith had begun to exhibit such small-mindedness. When—They had simply decided to accept limitation.
"My Lord Carnifex, however, is incorrect. Neither of you are destined to be crushed unless you continue to let the wheel turn. You are not insects to the boot of an unthinking Fate...You are the boot. You are the destroyers, Kings, and Masters of your own domain."
"Do not tell me that my Lords have become meek and subservient to such a frail concept. I will not believe it.
Even now…Even still, it was strange. Not moving toward Empyrean. Not turning to him when the darkness became too much to wade through on her own. They were different in many ways. Maliphant had been raised as a slave. He had endured things that she…Occasionally lost her temper, over. He had moved from the lowest of the low to the top of the food chain. Her upbringing had been almost picturesque until family matters drove her from Eshan. He had to reach, fight, and push for every ounce of might he maintained. He'd given everything, including, his life. He wanted power.
Srina did not. Yet, it came to her
freely.
And on more than one instance it swept through her in ways that were impossible for her to truly control. Elrood—For instance. That was what she offered them in exchange. To claim her aptitude, potential, and quite possibly, her life. That unconquerable nature that left her standing time and time again. The lives of the two stars she held, so dear, were in the balance. It was everything.
But again... Neither Sith seemed to want it.
"What is it that you must prove? To whom, exactly? The entirety of the Sith Order trembles at your very names. Supplicants fall at your feet and Acolytes feel alive in your wake. You weaken, yourselves."
She breathed, though, her hand fell over her stomach atop dark fabric. That same light-headedness from the Life Day celebration on Jutrand was swift to return when she overexerted herself. Traveling through the glom was facilitated by the ring on her finger, but it took of her being to work outside initial parameters. Not unaware of the absolute irony of an Echani putting their foot down on trial by combat she could only maintain a line of sight. Trapped between a mountain and a falling meteor strike.
"You must see it. The deception, the shaken foundation, the result of fractured leadership. The price you will pay when you realize…You've been made the main event."
A pause.
"You're both looking, so intently, at each other. It has blinded you."
They were looking right. Someone else, looking left.
