Private The Endless Abyss

[Serina Calis]

Tag: Alana Calloway ​

Serina inhaled slowly, savoring the moment as if it were the finest vintage, letting the taste of it roll over her tongue—victory.

She had known this would come. It was inevitable, as all things were with her. The moment Alana Calloway ceased to be, the moment she let go, surrendered, and accepted the truth carved for her—Serina's truth—she had become something more. Something worthy.

Something hers.

Serina tilted her head, watching, studying. Sable's breath trembled, her fingers twitched, but there was no resistance, no hesitation. Only quiet acceptance.

Beautiful.

Serina let out a breath, a pleased, indulgent sigh, her fingers ghosting down the curve of Sable's face, tracing her jaw, revelling in the warmth beneath her touch. "Sable Varro." The name dripped from her tongue, dark and honeyed, laced with satisfaction. Perfection.

Gone was the wretched thing that had clung to its past, the pitiful creature that had scraped and fought for meaning where there was none. And in its place—

Serina's masterpiece.

Her fingers trailed down Sable's throat, slow and deliberate, her touch feather-light yet possessive, marking her with every caress. "You wear it so beautifully," she purred, voice velvet and sin, threading through the air like silk. "My Sable. My perfect creation."

The words wrapped around Sable like a collar, invisible but unbreakable. Serina felt it—the shift, the final crack that had shattered the last remnants of resistance.

Alana Calloway had died.

And Sable Varro was born in her hands.

Serina's smirk deepened, pure satisfaction gleaming in her ice-blue eyes as she leaned in, lips brushing against Sable's ear, a whisper of breath against her skin. "You've made me so proud, darling."

The words slithered down, curling in Sable's stomach, winding around the void Serina had carved into her. A reward. A purpose. The approval she now lived for.

Serina pressed a slow, indulgent kiss to her temple, reverent in its cruelty, her fingers sliding beneath Sable's chin to tilt her face upward. She wanted to see it. The submission. The devotion. The understanding.

And oh, how exquisite it was.

She chuckled, soft and low, fingers stroking the pale column of Sable's throat. "You were meant for this. For me. You know that now, don't you?"

She didn't ask.

She knew.

And so did Sable.

Serina hummed, pleased beyond words, her lips grazing the corner of Sable's mouth, teasing, claiming. "You deserve a reward, don't you?" The question was a purr, indulgent, laced with wicked amusement. "Something befitting my most precious creation."

Her fingers trailed lower, curling at Sable's waist, pulling her just a breath closer, the heat of her presence pressing into her like a brand. "Tell me, my love—" Serina's voice dipped, sinking into something deeper, something that promised both pleasure and ruin.

"What do you want?"

She already knew the answer.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

The Endless Abyss​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Armor:
N/A
Weapons:
HESTIZO-201 "Silverrain" Vaccine
1 x VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade
Gear:
G1 Omni Link

Alana—no, Sable—stood still. Not frozen. Not afraid. Just still. Every fiber of her being hummed, but she did not flinch. Did not pull away.
Because there was nothing left to pull away from.

She should have felt revulsion. Should have spat in Serina's face, clawed, fought, tore herself free—but she did none of that. The fight was gone, wrung from her inch by inch until all that remained was this: the quiet hum of belonging, the warmth of purpose where a gaping wound had been.

Serina's touch was fire tracing over ice, and yet Sable did not melt. She solidified. Hardened. She did not shudder, nor did she cower. She only breathed—steady, slow, measured. Her body knew the answer before her lips could shape it.
And that was the worst part.

Because Serina was right.

Sable lifted her chin slightly, not in defiance, but in invitation. Acknowledgment. Acceptance. The name Alana Calloway rang hollow in her mind, an echo of something distant and meaningless. A phantom in the dark.

The hand beneath her chin was firm, guiding, demanding, and she let herself be guided. Let herself be claimed. Because Serina had made her—had reshaped her, carved her into something worthy.

"My Lady," Sable murmured, the words slipping free with ease, natural as breath.

What did she want?

There was no need to ask. Serina already knew.

But Sable spoke anyway, because it pleased her to hear it.

"Whatever you wish of me."

Not obedience. Not submission. Something deeper. Something irrevocable.

Devotion.

....that...was what this was...wasn't it?

Sable wasn't sure.

 

[Serina Calis]

Tag: Alana Calloway ​

Serina exhaled a slow, satisfied breath, letting the sound settle into the silence between them, filling the air with something thick, inescapable. She relished this moment, savored it, the sweet taste of absolute triumph resting on her tongue like the finest delicacy.

Sable had spoken the words freely. Without hesitation. Without resistance.

Whatever you wish of me.

Serina traced her thumb along Sable's chin, savoring the weight of those words, the finality of them. "Oh, my love," she purred, tilting Sable's face just enough to drink in the devotion gleaming in those crimson eyes, "you are exquisite." Her voice was molten, warm and indulgent, curling around Sable's mind like a velvet noose.

Serina let her touch linger for just a moment longer before pulling away, the absence of her warmth a deliberate act, a lesson in itself. This was control. Not just of the body, not just of the mind—but of the need she had cultivated. She would give, and she would take away.

But she would always give it back. If Sable earned it.

And so, Serina stepped back, gliding across the polished black stone, her presence shifting from indulgent to commanding, from lover to master. The air grew heavier, thrumming with unseen power, with expectation.

"It is time for your next lesson."

She turned, her cloak sweeping behind her as she raised her hand. The dagger from before, still embedded in the stone floor, trembled at her unspoken command. It did not rise immediately—it quivered, resisting, as if knowing it was being forced to obey.

Serina's eyes gleamed.

"The Force is not your ally," she murmured, her voice steady, absolute. "It is not your friend. It does not serve you willingly. It must be tamed. Broken. Commanded."

The dagger wrenched free from the stone in a sudden, violent jerk, hovering midair, trembling in the grasp of unseen hands. "And once you have broken it, it will never betray you."

She let the dagger drop. It clattered to the floor, the sharp sound echoing through the chamber.

Then, her gaze snapped back to Sable, piercing, expectant.

"Again."

No softness now. No indulgence.

Only command.

Serina circled her once, a predator assessing her creation, waiting for her to move, waiting for her to take what was hers.

"Your body has already learned obedience," she murmured, low and knowing, her fingers ghosting over Sable's shoulder as she passed. "But your will? Your will must be stronger still."

She came to a stop behind her, her breath a whisper against Sable's ear.

"I will not ask you to take control," Serina purred. "I will not wait for you to succeed."

A pause. A shift in the air. The presence of something unseen pressing against Sable's skin, taunting her.

"If you fail—" Serina's fingers barely ghosted over her waist, a promise, a threat, a dare— "I will remind you exactly what failure costs."

The dagger waited.

The air held its breath.

Serina stepped back, waiting.

Expecting.

Commanding.

"Take it."

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

The Endless Abyss​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Armor:
N/A
Weapons:
HESTIZO-201 "Silverrain" Vaccine
1 x VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade
Gear:
G1 Omni Link

Sable's breath was steady. Controlled. Every fiber of her being screamed to move, to obey, to take—but not out of fear. No. She had learned this game well enough to know it was never about fear. Fear was weak. Fear was for the lost, for those still grasping in the dark.

She was past that.

Her crimson eyes flicked to the dagger, still and waiting, its defiance only an illusion. Serina's words wrapped around her mind, coiling like a serpent, pressing into the cracks of what she had been and reinforcing what she was becoming. The hunger inside her stirred again, deep and insatiable, but it was no longer the reckless, wild thing it once was. It was refined now. Sharpened. Tempered.

She inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of Serina's touch lingering against her skin, the whisper of breath against her ear—a command, a promise, a warning.

Sable did not hesitate.

The Force surged within her like wildfire, but she did not grasp at it desperately. She did not plead for its compliance. She reached for it with expectation. She demanded.

And it obeyed.

The dagger snapped up from the stone floor, not in a shuddering struggle but in an instant, as if it had never belonged to the ground in the first place. It hovered, still and obedient, gleaming under the dim light of the chamber. There was no resistance. No hesitation.

Just control.

It turned it’s gaze to Serina, the dagger now floating effortlessly between them. The fire in her eyes did not burn wild—it was cold, precise, absolute.

It did not wait for approval. Though she did seek validation.

It only spoke, it’s voice smooth, unyielding.

"I understand."

 

[Serina Calis]

Tag: Alana Calloway ​

Serina's breath hitched—not in shock, not in surprise, but in something far, far sweeter.

Pleasure.

Sable had done it—not as a fluke, not as a desperate, trembling attempt—but with certainty. With control. With the understanding that the Force was not something to be begged for, but something to be commanded.

And that, oh, that was perfection.

A slow, sultry smile curled Serina's lips, her icy gaze gleaming with something deeper than pride, something darker than satisfaction. It was the pleasure of a sculptor watching their masterpiece take form, of a musician hearing their composition sung flawlessly. It was more than validation. It was possession.

Serina stepped forward, closing the distance between them with agonizing slowness, her movements fluid, deliberate. The dagger hovered between them, still, obedient, awaiting its next command. But Serina's attention was not on the weapon—it was on her. On Sable.

She reached out, fingers trailing up Sable's arm, light, barely there, but tracing the path of unseen energy that still thrummed beneath her skin.

"Exquisite," Serina whispered, her voice dripping with genuine, undeniable admiration. "You are flawless."

She tilted Sable's chin up, meeting those smoldering crimson eyes, watching them, devouring them, owning them.

"You didn't hesitate," she murmured, her tone laced with warmth, with pride. "You didn't doubt. And the Force knew. It felt your will, and it obeyed."

Serina exhaled, letting her thumb brush over Sable's lower lip, her touch slow, savoring. "This is what I always knew you were capable of, my love." The last two words purred from her tongue, smooth and indulgent. "This… is what you were meant to be."

Her fingers traced lower, over the delicate line of Sable's throat, pressing just enough to feel the steady rhythm of her pulse beneath her fingertips. A heartbeat. Steady. Controlled. Hers.

Serina's smirk widened. "And you do understand now, don't you?"

Not a question. A statement.

And yet, she let Sable answer. She wanted to hear it.

The dagger still hovered between them, waiting. And Serina, as much as she loved rewarding her little pet, was not yet done with her training.

She stepped back, withdrawing the warmth of her touch, letting Sable feel the loss of it, just enough to make her want to earn it back.

"Control, my darling, is not just about taking," Serina continued, her voice shifting, smooth as silk, sharp as a blade. "It is about maintaining. About sustaining."

She gestured toward the dagger, watching the way it still lingered in the air, waiting for Sable's next move.

"Power is nothing if it falters."

Serina's fingers flicked ever so slightly—and the dagger twitched.

It was a test.

A threat.

An invitation.

"Do you think you can hold it, my love?" Serina purred, her eyes gleaming with amusement, with challenge. "Can you keep it suspended? Can you keep your control?"

Another flick—subtle, teasing, coaxing the weapon to resist, to waver.

Serina's smile darkened, her voice dipping into something sultry, something dangerous.

"Or will you let it slip?"

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

The Endless Abyss​

Tag: Serina Calis​

Armor:
N/A
Weapons:
HESTIZO-201 "Silverrain" Vaccine
1 x VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade
Gear:
G1 Omni Link

Sable didn't react at first. The dagger remained where it was, suspended between them, steady, unwavering. Her grip on the Force was firm, precise. But as Serina spoke—as she purred—something inside her twisted.

It wasn't the words themselves. It wasn't even the touch, the way Serina's fingers traced over her skin like she was something to be sculpted, refined, owned. It was the way it all sank in too deep, too fast. The way the moment folded in on itself, pressing against the edges of her mind like a vice.

The Force didn't whisper. It screamed.

A sharp, piercing pressure lanced through her skull, like molten metal had been poured into the base of her spine and was clawing its way up. Her vision blurred at the edges, the world fracturing into jagged shards of light and darkness, into something wrong.

Her breath hitched, sharp, involuntary. The dagger wavered.

Sable clenched her jaw, willing herself to hold it, to maintain, but her body was betraying her. Her hands trembled. The air felt thick, heavy, like she was drowning in something unseen, something ancient and hungry.

She had felt this before.

No—she had lived this before.

She staggered, just barely, but enough for Serina to notice. Enough for the amusement in those cold, knowing eyes to sharpen into something more insidious.

Not again. Not now.

The pressure built, swelling behind her eyes, her temples, her teeth. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, the rhythm erratic, wrong. Every pulse sent another spike of pain ricocheting through her skull. Her breathing turned ragged.

Hold it.

Don't break.

Don't let him see—

Something inside her snapped.

The dagger clattered to the floor.

Sable's hands shot to her head, fingers digging into her scalp as if she could physically tear the pain out. The room lurched. The ground felt unsteady beneath her feet, shifting, tilting. Her knees nearly buckled, but she caught herself, barely, bracing against the onslaught of agony tearing through her skull like a blade.

For a brief, horrible second, she thought she might pass out.

She didn't.

Instead, she forced her head up, forced her crimson eyes to meet Serina's. The world was still splitting apart at the seams, but she refused to look away, refused to let Serina see anything but defiance beneath the pain.

Her breath came in slow, uneven gasps. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms.

And then, in a voice that barely sounded like her own, raw and shaking at the edges, she forced out three words:

"Don’t let him….."

Blood began to steam from her eyes once more, a small trickle starting from her ears, as she seemed to lose consciousness.

 

[Serina Calis]

Tag: Alana Calloway ​

Serina's pleasure evaporated in an instant.

The dagger clattering to the floor was nothing—an inconvenience, a setback. But the way Sable's body convulsed, the way her breath hitched, the way her fingers clawed at her scalp like she was trying to tear something out of herself—that was wrong.

Then came the blood.

A slow, dark trickle from her eyes, her ears, like something deep inside her was rupturing, breaking apart beneath unseen pressure.

Serina's amusement died, her smirk vanishing as her posture stiffened.

Then—three words.

"Don't let him—"

Him?

Serina barely had time to process the words before Sable's body gave out.

"No," Serina breathed, a rare, genuine flicker of something close to panic flashing through her eyes as she surged forward, catching Sable just before she hit the stone.

Her body was limp. Her breathing—shallow.

The blood steamed.

Serina's mind worked fast. Something was wrong—terribly, fundamentally wrong. This wasn't just exhaustion. This wasn't just strain.

She pressed her fingers to Sable's throat. Pulse—too fast. Too erratic.

She had pushed her—but not this far. Not to the point of this.

What had she missed?

Serina refused to lose her.

"Sable," she hissed, shaking her slightly, her voice sharp, commanding, demanding a response. Nothing.

Serina never raised her voice. Not unless it mattered.

"Sable, please wake up."

Still nothing.

A growl, low and simmering, burned in her throat as she shifted, one hand pressing against Sable's forehead, the other against her chest.

She reached inward.

Through the Force, she felt it—chaos. A storm raging inside her. The pain wasn't just physical. It was something else. Something deeper.

And it wasn't just hurting her.

It was killing her.

"No," Serina snarled, and acted.

Her hands snapped up, one lifting into the air. A sharp pulse of energy rippled outward, sending a signal to the medical droids stationed deeper within the facility.

Serina had them everywhere. Contingencies. Preparations. For everyone but herself.

The second the pulse left her, she moved.

Sable's body was already light in her arms, too light, her breath far too shallow.

Serina lifted her, cradling her, pressing her against her chest as she turned sharply toward the exit.

Her strides were purposeful.

Her command through the Force was absolute.

The doors slammed open before she even reached them.

Cold, professional efficiency took over her mind as she pushed through the corridors.

She would not lose her.

Not now. Not after she had just taken her.

Not after she had made her hers.

A hiss of mechanical servos. The medical chamber doors slid open, the soft hum of droids activating, the sterile glow of diagnostic screens flickering to life.

Serina laid Sable onto the examination table with a care she rarely extended to anything fragile.

Her grip lingered for just a second before she stepped back, her piercing blue eyes locking onto the lead medical droid as it hovered forward.

"She's bleeding from her eyes," Serina said, her voice low, dangerous, every syllable carrying a quiet, lethal promise. "She lost consciousness mid-Force exertion. Her pulse is unstable. She will be stabilized."

She took a step closer, slow, predatory.

The droid beeped in affirmation, scanning Sable's body with rapid efficiency.

Serina's gaze never left her.

The flickering pulse at her throat. The soft, shallow rise and fall of her chest. The blood still seeping from her eyes like a twisted, wretched offering.

She had thought she had taken everything from Sable. That she had seen all that lay beneath the surface.

But this?

This was unknown.

And Serina hated the unknown.

"Find out what's wrong with her," she said, her voice like ice.

Then—softer, almost whispered, as she reached forward, brushing her fingers against Sable's wrist.

"…and fix her."