W A R W I T C H
The skies of Krayiss II groaned above her, heavy with endless, churning clouds that swallowed the sun and left the world in a sickly half-light. A land of monotony and lifeless stone stretched out in every direction, its emptiness gnawing at Domina's nerves like an itch she couldn't scratch. This world—this dreary, colorless pit—offended her. It lacked the shimmer of gold, the gleam of plunder, the indulgence of pleasure. What was there to take from such a wretched place?
And yet, here stood a fortress, alone and brooding at the end of a desolate boulevard, reaching skyward like a starving beast clawing at the heavens. Domina's five eyes narrowed behind her Mandalorian mask, her grip tightening on Azura's reins as she circled the bleak structure.
Darth Morta
had claimed dominion over this dead realm, but where was her army? Where were the banners of war to greet a warrior of Prime? Not even the decency of a trap to snap shut upon her descent. Insultingly pathetic.
Chittering in irritation, Domina flicked her heel against Azura's flank. The great beast let out a piercing bellow, shaking the very stones of the fortress below as it folded its wings and plunged through the thick clouds. The force of their dive sent a shockwave of wind cascading over the land, a storm heralding her arrival. The air screamed with Azura's whistling wings as they cut through the sky, spiraling downward before Domina wrenched the reins, forcing the dragon into a vicious, earth-shaking skid. Claws gouged deep trenches into stone and dirt as Azura finally came to a halt before the looming gates, leaving the fortress doors trembling in its wake.
Domina let out a pleased hum, running a clawed hand along the beast's scaled neck. "Good boy… you're getting better at this, Zuzu~" she purred, her tone laced with amusement.
With a fluid motion, she dismounted, her boots kissing the ground as she straightened and took in the towering doors before her. She didn't need to turn to know that Azura had already taken back to the skies with a single powerful thrust of its wings, disappearing once more into the brooding storm above. Now, it was just her… and whatever pitiful resistance lurked within.
A clawed hand reached forward, lazily dragging its wicked nails across the steel doors in a slow, deliberate motion. The sound that followed was shrill, a nails-on-metal wail that shattered the stillness and echoed through the fortress halls beyond. A sound meant to unnerve, to announce, to taunt.
Domina chuckled, a deep, menacing chortle rolling from her throat as she leaned in, pressing her masked face close to the cold metal.
"Come out and play, little red," she cooed, her voice dripping with sing-song mockery. "You can't avoid Prime forever… This one knows where you live~"
The silence that followed was thick, charged with anticipation. Was there a sentry on the other side, frozen in indecision? Was Darth Morta herself lingering just beyond reach, listening to the beckoning call of war creeping at her doorstep?
It didn't matter. If no one came to greet her, she would simply let herself in.
And if that door didn't open willingly… well.
Domina had always enjoyed the sound of things breaking.
