High Commander of the Lilaste Order
Laphisto took in a slow, steady breath. For the first time in several cycles, he felt... still. Not calm, exactly but at peace in a way that hadn't been possible mere moments ago. The fire in his veins had vanished, and the agony gnawing at his bones had ceased. And yet, something remained.
A strange, invisible tether pulled at him not violently, but insistently. It felt like a harness wrapped tight around his heart or something deeper gently drawing him toward a nearby cluster of petrified Kiev'arians. He might have followed it immediately, had his senses not been interrupted by the sharp contrast of a bright orange suit moving into his periphery.
Derron Daks
.
The executive’s voice cut through the strange haze with clinical precision, his datapad streaming updates as he approached. A flurry of information followed: sensor readings, energetic disturbances, casualties Laphisto’s brow furrowed at the word. He had expected risk on this mission, yes. But not this soon. Not so sudden. The weight of those lost, though unknown to him personally, settled heavily on his shoulders.
Before he could fully respond, the man’s tone shifted. The threat of an unidentified fleet. Possible piracy. His commlink came alive at once, a sudden deluge of delayed transmissions flooding in, and instinctively, Laphisto tapped the interface on his vambrace. Among the chaos, one stood out a signal from @Brakkus, confirming the arrival of the Ando Mining Collective.
Laphisto’s gaze flicked back toward Derron and the fleet beyond, noting the swift and disciplined readiness of the DDSI forces. Their response was immediate. Efficient. That earned respect. It spoke of professionalism and trustworthiness, and it bolstered the executive’s reputation in Laphisto’s mind. He wasted no time. Fingers dancing across the vambrace’s display, Laphisto sent an encrypted transmission across all frequencies. His voice came across calm, steady, and clear even as the ancient world around him whispered forgotten memories into the dust.
“Commander Xander, hold fire. The Ando Mining Collective is a late addition to our party. I’ve received confirmation from their command. Stand down and maintain current readiness though I thank you sincerely for your vigilance.” He glanced briefly at Derron, nodding once with quiet approval before his Eyes turned again toward the still-silent statues awaiting him in the ash.
With the near friendly-fire incident behind them, Laphisto let out a low, steady sigh, his breath briefly fogging inside the mask of his suit. His gaze drifted back toward one of the petrified Kiev'arian corpses frozen mid-motion, locked in the last act of a life cut short. The soft green glow in its chest pulsed faintly, steady and patient, like something beneath the surface still remembered how to breathe.
A part of him wanted to go to it. To stand among the fallen and try to feel whatever it was pulling at him since he stepped off the ramp. But the moment passed as a voice pulled him back to the present.
Zara Saga
. Her tone was unmistakable cool, playful, biting in just the right way. He didn't need to turn to know the smirk that came with it. "Believe it or not," he answered, his voice tinged with dry humor, "I've been seeing with the Force this whole time. Was no one going to tell me I was doing it wrong? I feel like that could have been mentioned in a Briefing"
He gave a short chuckle, shaking his head lightly as his arms folded across his chest. It was a small moment of levity, but on this dead world, it felt like a spark in the dark. Then his attention shifted to the second new arrival
Diarch Reign
, finally here. "Speaking of fashionably late…" Laphisto said, glancing between them both. "Thank the Gods you're here. I was starting to worry Rellik might begin licking rocks. And apparently, I was going to be the one stuck making sure he didn't."
A thin sheet of ash curled along the ground around them, disturbed by their movements. It clung to their boots, floated lazily in the air, catching what little light the surface reflected. In the distance, twisted spires jutted from the earth like broken spears, silent witnesses to a forgotten war. The cold wasn't just in the air it was in the bones of the place. The silence around them wasn't empty, it was watching.
The sound caught his attention a body hitting the ground, just off the edge of the ramp.
Laphisto's ears twitched as he turned, spotting
Zinayn
sprawled out in the grit. The Chiss was rarely clumsy. That alone was enough to pull Laphisto from his own thoughts. He stepped toward him, boots sinking slightly into the fine layer of dry, powdery sediment that coated the surface. It wasn't sand. It wasn't soil. It felt… too light. Too dead. He slowed as he reached the Chiss, extending a clawed hand toward him."Are you alright, my friend?" he asked, brow quirking up. "Don't tell me your first step onto this sacred world was face-first into the dirt."
Zinayn took the hand, lifting himself up to one knee. But something about the way he moved set off a quiet alarm in the back of Laphisto's mind. He wasn't just dazed. He was off. Zinayn was normally collected, efficient. Every step was measured. But now… there was a hesitation in his balance. A brief delay in his eyes refocusing. He brushed the ground like someone trying to remember how gravity worked, like his center had shifted and he was only just catching up. Laphisto studied him quietly. his face abscent of the usual glaired/ squint he alwasy bore etched onto his face. almost like for the first time since the Chiss - or anyone that had ever met him for that matter- had met him, he wasnt looking Glairing or like the sun was in his eyes
He didn't need the Force to sense it because there was no Force here. But Zinayn's disorientation didn't come from fatigue. It came from absence. He watched as the Chiss straightened, his movements regaining precision, but the moment lingered. Zinayn scanned the field ahead, taking in the dead their forms frozen in final moments, hands still gripping weapons, faces locked mid-scream. The soft glow in their chests reflected faintly off Zinayn's visor.He didn't say anything. and laphisto didn't press. He knew that look. The silence that came not from confusion, but from recognition when something deep beneath the surface had changed, and words hadn't caught up to it yet.
Laphisto's gaze shot toward
Diarch Rellik
the moment the Diarch spoke, pupils narrowing in the subtle glow of his own awakening. A small smile pulled across his face not forced, not weary genuine. But there was something distant in it, like the smile belonged to someone halfway between this moment and another entirely. "What do I see?" he echoed, voice low and thoughtful. "Everything. It's so... clear." There was a softness to his tone, a kind of reverence rarely heard from the High Commander. It wasn't the voice of a warrior or a leader, but of a man seeing color for the first time after a lifetime of shadows. After helping Zinayn to his feet, Laphisto turned his head slightly toward Rellik, offering a slow nod. His smile lingered, faint.
"I'm alright," he said. "At least... a lot better than I was inside that damned thing." He gestured back toward the shuttle with a flick of his clawed hand, but the motion was almost absent-minded. His focus had already shifted. The pulse returned. Faint at first, a green flicker beneath his scales. Then stronger pulsing in rhythm, steady, deliberate. It traced along his neck and down his arms, curling beneath the skin like living fire. The glow in his veins flared in perfect synchronization with the crystals embedded in the petrified Kiev'arians nearby. Each beat was mirrored. His body and the dead moved in lockstep, as though some shared circuit had reconnected.
It was no longer just a reaction. It was a conversation. And Laphisto was listening. His eyes drifted toward the group of corpses that had called to him from the moment he set foot on this cursed world. One in particular held his attention now taller than the others, shoulders broad, armor half shattered but still regal in shape. A warrior. A guardian. Maybe more. The Kiev'arian stood frozen in time, as though defying the moment of death itself. Dust clung to him like the weight of history. Laphisto began to walk.
"Commander Daks, was it?" he said aloud, still facing forward. "How far along is your team with establishing the FOB and locking down a stable uplink to orbit?" His voice was calm controlled but disconnected. He didn't turn to look. Didn't even blink. The question wasn't an inquiry it was protocol, rattled off like a forgotten reflex. His words moved ahead of him, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. Like a machine running an old command line while something deeper took root beneath the surface. Each step brought him closer to the towering figure.
The world around him felt heavier now not in pressure, but in presence. Like the air was thick with forgotten memory. The Force still didn't answer him, but something else did. Something that didn't speak in words. Something that remembered him. He stopped. Just a few feet away from the warrior's statue-still frame. Its face was locked in a half-snarl, eyes frozen mid-glare. The crystal embedded in its chest pulsed once. Then again. Laphisto's own veins responded. He stared up at the figure, searching its features searching for something he couldn't name. A flicker of recognition? A fragment of memory? Or perhaps just a reflection of himself.
Almost instinctively, Laphisto reached out, his fingers brushing gently across the ash-caked breastplate of the petrified Kiev'arian. The armor was worn, cracked, half-fused with the elements but his touch disturbed the dust, clearing it just enough to reveal something beneath. A symbol. Sharp and unmistakable, etched into the metal like a memory burned into stone. His breath caught. It was the same sigil he bore on his own chestplate—the crest of his bloodline. His family. This warrior hadn't just been a member of his species. He had been kin. His hand lingered. Reverent. Shaking slightly.
The moment his claws grazed the cracked surface again, he felt the brittle edge of something shift. A fragment of the breastplate gave way with a faint crack, and with it, the chest cavity fell open—stone and metal parting with a hollow creak that echoed louder than it should've in the dead stillness of the world. And there it was. Nestled in the hollow of the corpse's ribs: a green, pulsing jewel. Vibrant. Alive. Its glow throbbed in rhythm with Laphisto's own chest, like it was breathing alongside him. He froze.
He didn't understand what he was looking atnot fully. But he felt it. Not just the weight of the jewel, but the weight of presence. Of soul. This was no ornament. This was a Fire Tear The last reminants of a Kiev'arian. thier soul in phisical form. A conduit of essence. as he looked to the jewel he felt a mix of sorrow and awe before something, no someone spoke.
Not in words. Not in the Force. But in a voice that buried its teeth into the back of Laphisto's mind and snarled with urgency a voice that raked acrossed his very soul. and sent pin pricks racing acrossed his body "Take it." Laphisto tried to resist at first but then the voice cam e back stonger almost overwhelming "NOW" The voice shook and vibrated within his skull, with a wince, he obeyed. He didn't hesitate. almost instictually so as if something within his blood told him to do so. and so with Fingers trembling, he couldnt stop himself even if he wanted to at this point. His hand closed around the Fire Tear, the jewel warm against his palm warmer than it had any right to be in this dead, sunless place. The surface was smooth, almost soft, like holding glass filled with moving light.
It pulsed once beneath his grip.Then, all at once, the jewel responded. The glow intensified bright emerald fire bursting within the crystal's heart—then surged outward in a violent wave of light that shot up Laphisto's arm like a current of lightning. His body seized for a moment, a deep, shuddering breath catching in his throat as his muscles tensed involuntarily.
The veins beneath his scales, already glowing faintly since his arrival, now blazed with renewed intensity. That same vibrant green carved burning lines up his forearm, his neck, across his chest, and along the edges of his face. The pulse wasn't chaotic it was measured, deliberate, like the rhythm of a beating heart. A soft, high-pitched tone rang in his ears not a sound exactly, but a pressure that built in his skull, humming like a tuning fork against the base of his spine. It wasn't pain, but it was overwhelming. His body convulsed as the energy dug deeper, latching onto something inside him—into blood, into memory, into him. he felt the warmth of the Souls energy pool into his own Fire tear
Suddenly, the world around him shattered. He wasn't pulled backward he was thrown through time, like a soul caught in the undertow of memory. The present cracked and peeled away like burnt parchment, revealing something older beneath. His vision blurred, then snapped into painful clarity. He was still standingbut it wasn't the same world. The lifeless city was gone. Now, it burned with life and fire. The sky above churned with black smoke, flickering red with distant flames. The cold, silent graveyard had transformed into a battlefield mid-siege.
Kiev'arians stormed past him in all directions, roaring war cries as steel rang against steel. Swords clashed. Shields slammed. The air shook with the sound of thousands of voices crying out in one last, defiant stand. Laphisto spun around, breathing hard, his instincts flaring. Every movement around him screamed danger. His eyes darted through the chaos then locked onto a patch of ground that, just moments ago, had been empty.
To the others, there was still nothing there. But to Laphisto, the land crawled with enemies. A tide of Rakatan warriors surged over the horizon, massive war-beasts at their flanks. Energy weapons lit the air with deadly arcs. The ground trembled beneath their charge. One of them—a hulking brute clad in ancient armor broke from the line and lunged straight for him.
With a snarl, Laphisto reacted on instinct. His saber was already in hand before he realized he'd drawn it, the plasma blade igniting with a snap-hiss and casting a brilliant blue glow against teh surroundings the air seemed to react and crackle against his saber. like it was almost unstable. He struck. But there was no enemy.The blade passed cleanly through empty air, and yet he could feel the clash the resistance that wasn't there.
He stepped back, muscles tensed, eyes wide, swinging again. His blade carved through two nearby petrified Kiev'arian corpses, stone splitting like brittle glass under the force of his strike. The shattered remains collapsed to the ground with a heavy, echoing crack. Another step back—he collided with a third statue. It wobbled, toppled, and slammed into a fourth, the weight cascading until two more frozen bodies were crushed beneath the pile. each Warrior who fell crumbled to dust and chunks of stone, the only true reminants being the weapons they Wielded and the Jewls of thier souls
The vision broke. Snapped. And like a tidal wave receding, Laphisto was yanked back into the present. The burning sky was gone. The roar of battle silenced. He stood alone again in the ash-choked ruin, his chest heaving, breath sharp and ragged. Sweat clung to his brow. His blade still hummed in his grip, casting its glow across the wreckage he had accidentally caused. He blinked. Once. Twice. Confused. Disoriented.
"Wh… what..." he muttered, staggering slightly. His gaze shot to the others. "Where...?" He looked around, wild-eyed, blinking hard like someone waking from a dream they couldn't escape. "Are you all alright? Did you… see that?" But by the looks on their faces he already knew the answer. but apart of him needed clarification that They hadn't seen anything. or Reassurance that they had
Derron Daks
Saga Merrill
Brakkus
Kiev'ara does not have an atmosphere. It does not have weather. It does not have wind. But it feels.
Kiev'ara had already stirred once. A single pulse. A breath after eons of silence. But this time… the planet opened its eyes.
The arrival of the Ando Mining Collective, their vast fleet trailing behind them like a mechanical storm, marked a turning point. Civilian mining barges. Heavily shielded transports. Diarchy warships escorting them in formation. The sudden appearance of so much mass, so many signals—all pressing into the void surrounding Kiev'ara was enough to awaken something older than memory.
The pulse came less like an explosion and more like a ripple a precise, deliberate wave that rolled up from the planet's interior and struck orbit like a planetary-scale heartbeat. It wasn't the same reflexive jolt that had first scattered beacons and thrown dropships off-course. This was sharper. More measured. A second breath… filled with awareness. and much less violent
For a fleeting moment, space twisted. Gravitational readings spiked and sensors flared red across multiple fleets. The world's pull seemed to double, holding everything in orbit just a little too tightly then loosening its grip just as quickly. And in that disorienting moment, something in the pattern of the energy revealed its nature. It wasn't just background noise. It had rhythm. A tempo.
Any scientist worth their training and any Force-sensitive who hadn't gone numb in the void might have felt it. The pulse mimicked something ancient and biological: a rise in adrenaline. A heart reacting to fear. Or rage. Or maybe… excitement. It wasn't just a dead world anymore. It was a mind, vast and unsure, reacting to the number of strangers now knocking at its door.
The ships pressing against its orbit. The machines preparing to pierce its skin. The memories waking beneath the ash. and perhaps most disturbingly of all, something shifted in the way the planet carried itself. Some navigators reported that their drift calculations had suddenly stabilized, as if the planet had anchored itself. Like it had decided where it wanted to be. Communication buoys lit with flickering electromagnetic signatures repeating bursts that almost resembled patterns.
And far beyond the visible hemisphere, where none of the fleets yet flew, a single navigational beacon returned strange telemetry. A dark object, unmoving, lurking behind Kiev'ara like a shadow dragged by the planet's wake. Its shape was too deliberate to be natural. No transponder. No motion. No heat.It had simply... been there.Watching.
Down on the surface, the silence had changed. It wasn't just still anymore—it was expectant. Every footstep kicked up dust that seemed to fall slower than it should. The ash-laden windless air made voices sound thinner. Like the world itself was listening to them speak. Kiev'ara had been dormant. Then it had awoken. And now, it was thinking. It knew it was being watched. And it had started watching back.
The Hollow Spire stands like a severed pillar reaching toward a sky that no longer watches. Time has worn away its elegance, but not its gravity. Rising from a plateau of cracked obsidian, the observatory is half-ruined, its upper reaches broken and slumped like a penitent giant. And yet, for all its damage, it feels... deliberate. As though its destruction was not collapse, but silence made physical.
Stone archways guard the entrance, carved in the ancient Kiev'arian style deep, sweeping runes etched into the weathered stone, marking celestial phases and long-lost planetary alignments. What once might have been a grand courtyard lies buried beneath dust and petrified rootwork. At the center of the entry hall, two statues flank the main threshold hooded Kiev'arian scholars carved from blackstone, their hands pressed together around empty sockets where once offerings may have been placed. Within, the air is still. The silence is not merely that of abandonment, but of vacuum—a pressureless, emotionless void that clings to the bones.
The interior is stone and crystalvaulted ceilings reinforced by riveted beams of Kov'dra metal and archways inlaid with emerald-hued Aetherium glass. Once, these crystals caught the light of distant stars and refracted them across the observatory's domed ceiling, tracking the passage of time with radiant splendor. Now, they lie dark. Dead. Or nearly so.
At the center of the Spire lies the Celestial Chamber, a circular observatory marked by concentric star maps carved into the floor. Cracks run through the inlays. Entire constellations have been obliterated. Above, the shattered oculus offers a view of deep space beyond Kiev'ara's surface but no light enters here. The stars do not shine on this world. And yet, something does.
Set into the floor, partially obscured by a collapsed pillar and a tangle of scorched ceremonial fabric, is a small, sealed reliquary a smooth black stone set in a bronze and crystal pedestal, about waist-height. It hums faintly not with sound, but with presence. There are no moving parts. No mechanical locks. But the nearer one gets, the more the silence deepens. The chamber feels heavier here. The closer one gets, the more the ancient star patterns on the walls seem to shimmer—not visibly, but in memory. Like a whisper on the edge of a thought.
A strange, invisible tether pulled at him not violently, but insistently. It felt like a harness wrapped tight around his heart or something deeper gently drawing him toward a nearby cluster of petrified Kiev'arians. He might have followed it immediately, had his senses not been interrupted by the sharp contrast of a bright orange suit moving into his periphery.

"Derron Daks, Chief Executive, DDSI. Something has triggered a response within the planet," he said, not realizing that Laphisto himself was the reason for it. "It came as a flurry of energies, including a gravitic pulse. There is clearly some mechanism still active among these ruins. Perhaps a defense system. Though... I am unsure. We have sustained casualties, but nothing as serious as I'd expect from an attempt at repelling the gathered forces here."
The executive’s voice cut through the strange haze with clinical precision, his datapad streaming updates as he approached. A flurry of information followed: sensor readings, energetic disturbances, casualties Laphisto’s brow furrowed at the word. He had expected risk on this mission, yes. But not this soon. Not so sudden. The weight of those lost, though unknown to him personally, settled heavily on his shoulders.
Before he could fully respond, the man’s tone shifted. The threat of an unidentified fleet. Possible piracy. His commlink came alive at once, a sudden deluge of delayed transmissions flooding in, and instinctively, Laphisto tapped the interface on his vambrace. Among the chaos, one stood out a signal from @Brakkus, confirming the arrival of the Ando Mining Collective.
Laphisto’s gaze flicked back toward Derron and the fleet beyond, noting the swift and disciplined readiness of the DDSI forces. Their response was immediate. Efficient. That earned respect. It spoke of professionalism and trustworthiness, and it bolstered the executive’s reputation in Laphisto’s mind. He wasted no time. Fingers dancing across the vambrace’s display, Laphisto sent an encrypted transmission across all frequencies. His voice came across calm, steady, and clear even as the ancient world around him whispered forgotten memories into the dust.
“Commander Xander, hold fire. The Ando Mining Collective is a late addition to our party. I’ve received confirmation from their command. Stand down and maintain current readiness though I thank you sincerely for your vigilance.” He glanced briefly at Derron, nodding once with quiet approval before his Eyes turned again toward the still-silent statues awaiting him in the ash.
With the near friendly-fire incident behind them, Laphisto let out a low, steady sigh, his breath briefly fogging inside the mask of his suit. His gaze drifted back toward one of the petrified Kiev'arian corpses frozen mid-motion, locked in the last act of a life cut short. The soft green glow in its chest pulsed faintly, steady and patient, like something beneath the surface still remembered how to breathe.
A part of him wanted to go to it. To stand among the fallen and try to feel whatever it was pulling at him since he stepped off the ramp. But the moment passed as a voice pulled him back to the present.

He gave a short chuckle, shaking his head lightly as his arms folded across his chest. It was a small moment of levity, but on this dead world, it felt like a spark in the dark. Then his attention shifted to the second new arrival

A thin sheet of ash curled along the ground around them, disturbed by their movements. It clung to their boots, floated lazily in the air, catching what little light the surface reflected. In the distance, twisted spires jutted from the earth like broken spears, silent witnesses to a forgotten war. The cold wasn't just in the air it was in the bones of the place. The silence around them wasn't empty, it was watching.
The sound caught his attention a body hitting the ground, just off the edge of the ramp.
Laphisto's ears twitched as he turned, spotting

Zinayn took the hand, lifting himself up to one knee. But something about the way he moved set off a quiet alarm in the back of Laphisto's mind. He wasn't just dazed. He was off. Zinayn was normally collected, efficient. Every step was measured. But now… there was a hesitation in his balance. A brief delay in his eyes refocusing. He brushed the ground like someone trying to remember how gravity worked, like his center had shifted and he was only just catching up. Laphisto studied him quietly. his face abscent of the usual glaired/ squint he alwasy bore etched onto his face. almost like for the first time since the Chiss - or anyone that had ever met him for that matter- had met him, he wasnt looking Glairing or like the sun was in his eyes
He didn't need the Force to sense it because there was no Force here. But Zinayn's disorientation didn't come from fatigue. It came from absence. He watched as the Chiss straightened, his movements regaining precision, but the moment lingered. Zinayn scanned the field ahead, taking in the dead their forms frozen in final moments, hands still gripping weapons, faces locked mid-scream. The soft glow in their chests reflected faintly off Zinayn's visor.He didn't say anything. and laphisto didn't press. He knew that look. The silence that came not from confusion, but from recognition when something deep beneath the surface had changed, and words hadn't caught up to it yet.
Laphisto's gaze shot toward

"I'm alright," he said. "At least... a lot better than I was inside that damned thing." He gestured back toward the shuttle with a flick of his clawed hand, but the motion was almost absent-minded. His focus had already shifted. The pulse returned. Faint at first, a green flicker beneath his scales. Then stronger pulsing in rhythm, steady, deliberate. It traced along his neck and down his arms, curling beneath the skin like living fire. The glow in his veins flared in perfect synchronization with the crystals embedded in the petrified Kiev'arians nearby. Each beat was mirrored. His body and the dead moved in lockstep, as though some shared circuit had reconnected.
It was no longer just a reaction. It was a conversation. And Laphisto was listening. His eyes drifted toward the group of corpses that had called to him from the moment he set foot on this cursed world. One in particular held his attention now taller than the others, shoulders broad, armor half shattered but still regal in shape. A warrior. A guardian. Maybe more. The Kiev'arian stood frozen in time, as though defying the moment of death itself. Dust clung to him like the weight of history. Laphisto began to walk.
"Commander Daks, was it?" he said aloud, still facing forward. "How far along is your team with establishing the FOB and locking down a stable uplink to orbit?" His voice was calm controlled but disconnected. He didn't turn to look. Didn't even blink. The question wasn't an inquiry it was protocol, rattled off like a forgotten reflex. His words moved ahead of him, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. Like a machine running an old command line while something deeper took root beneath the surface. Each step brought him closer to the towering figure.
The world around him felt heavier now not in pressure, but in presence. Like the air was thick with forgotten memory. The Force still didn't answer him, but something else did. Something that didn't speak in words. Something that remembered him. He stopped. Just a few feet away from the warrior's statue-still frame. Its face was locked in a half-snarl, eyes frozen mid-glare. The crystal embedded in its chest pulsed once. Then again. Laphisto's own veins responded. He stared up at the figure, searching its features searching for something he couldn't name. A flicker of recognition? A fragment of memory? Or perhaps just a reflection of himself.
Almost instinctively, Laphisto reached out, his fingers brushing gently across the ash-caked breastplate of the petrified Kiev'arian. The armor was worn, cracked, half-fused with the elements but his touch disturbed the dust, clearing it just enough to reveal something beneath. A symbol. Sharp and unmistakable, etched into the metal like a memory burned into stone. His breath caught. It was the same sigil he bore on his own chestplate—the crest of his bloodline. His family. This warrior hadn't just been a member of his species. He had been kin. His hand lingered. Reverent. Shaking slightly.
The moment his claws grazed the cracked surface again, he felt the brittle edge of something shift. A fragment of the breastplate gave way with a faint crack, and with it, the chest cavity fell open—stone and metal parting with a hollow creak that echoed louder than it should've in the dead stillness of the world. And there it was. Nestled in the hollow of the corpse's ribs: a green, pulsing jewel. Vibrant. Alive. Its glow throbbed in rhythm with Laphisto's own chest, like it was breathing alongside him. He froze.
He didn't understand what he was looking atnot fully. But he felt it. Not just the weight of the jewel, but the weight of presence. Of soul. This was no ornament. This was a Fire Tear The last reminants of a Kiev'arian. thier soul in phisical form. A conduit of essence. as he looked to the jewel he felt a mix of sorrow and awe before something, no someone spoke.
Not in words. Not in the Force. But in a voice that buried its teeth into the back of Laphisto's mind and snarled with urgency a voice that raked acrossed his very soul. and sent pin pricks racing acrossed his body "Take it." Laphisto tried to resist at first but then the voice cam e back stonger almost overwhelming "NOW" The voice shook and vibrated within his skull, with a wince, he obeyed. He didn't hesitate. almost instictually so as if something within his blood told him to do so. and so with Fingers trembling, he couldnt stop himself even if he wanted to at this point. His hand closed around the Fire Tear, the jewel warm against his palm warmer than it had any right to be in this dead, sunless place. The surface was smooth, almost soft, like holding glass filled with moving light.
It pulsed once beneath his grip.Then, all at once, the jewel responded. The glow intensified bright emerald fire bursting within the crystal's heart—then surged outward in a violent wave of light that shot up Laphisto's arm like a current of lightning. His body seized for a moment, a deep, shuddering breath catching in his throat as his muscles tensed involuntarily.
The veins beneath his scales, already glowing faintly since his arrival, now blazed with renewed intensity. That same vibrant green carved burning lines up his forearm, his neck, across his chest, and along the edges of his face. The pulse wasn't chaotic it was measured, deliberate, like the rhythm of a beating heart. A soft, high-pitched tone rang in his ears not a sound exactly, but a pressure that built in his skull, humming like a tuning fork against the base of his spine. It wasn't pain, but it was overwhelming. His body convulsed as the energy dug deeper, latching onto something inside him—into blood, into memory, into him. he felt the warmth of the Souls energy pool into his own Fire tear
Suddenly, the world around him shattered. He wasn't pulled backward he was thrown through time, like a soul caught in the undertow of memory. The present cracked and peeled away like burnt parchment, revealing something older beneath. His vision blurred, then snapped into painful clarity. He was still standingbut it wasn't the same world. The lifeless city was gone. Now, it burned with life and fire. The sky above churned with black smoke, flickering red with distant flames. The cold, silent graveyard had transformed into a battlefield mid-siege.
Kiev'arians stormed past him in all directions, roaring war cries as steel rang against steel. Swords clashed. Shields slammed. The air shook with the sound of thousands of voices crying out in one last, defiant stand. Laphisto spun around, breathing hard, his instincts flaring. Every movement around him screamed danger. His eyes darted through the chaos then locked onto a patch of ground that, just moments ago, had been empty.
To the others, there was still nothing there. But to Laphisto, the land crawled with enemies. A tide of Rakatan warriors surged over the horizon, massive war-beasts at their flanks. Energy weapons lit the air with deadly arcs. The ground trembled beneath their charge. One of them—a hulking brute clad in ancient armor broke from the line and lunged straight for him.
With a snarl, Laphisto reacted on instinct. His saber was already in hand before he realized he'd drawn it, the plasma blade igniting with a snap-hiss and casting a brilliant blue glow against teh surroundings the air seemed to react and crackle against his saber. like it was almost unstable. He struck. But there was no enemy.The blade passed cleanly through empty air, and yet he could feel the clash the resistance that wasn't there.
He stepped back, muscles tensed, eyes wide, swinging again. His blade carved through two nearby petrified Kiev'arian corpses, stone splitting like brittle glass under the force of his strike. The shattered remains collapsed to the ground with a heavy, echoing crack. Another step back—he collided with a third statue. It wobbled, toppled, and slammed into a fourth, the weight cascading until two more frozen bodies were crushed beneath the pile. each Warrior who fell crumbled to dust and chunks of stone, the only true reminants being the weapons they Wielded and the Jewls of thier souls
The vision broke. Snapped. And like a tidal wave receding, Laphisto was yanked back into the present. The burning sky was gone. The roar of battle silenced. He stood alone again in the ash-choked ruin, his chest heaving, breath sharp and ragged. Sweat clung to his brow. His blade still hummed in his grip, casting its glow across the wreckage he had accidentally caused. He blinked. Once. Twice. Confused. Disoriented.
"Wh… what..." he muttered, staggering slightly. His gaze shot to the others. "Where...?" He looked around, wild-eyed, blinking hard like someone waking from a dream they couldn't escape. "Are you all alright? Did you… see that?" But by the looks on their faces he already knew the answer. but apart of him needed clarification that They hadn't seen anything. or Reassurance that they had
OBJECTIVE II GM RESPONSE
Tags



Kiev'ara does not have an atmosphere. It does not have weather. It does not have wind. But it feels.
Kiev'ara had already stirred once. A single pulse. A breath after eons of silence. But this time… the planet opened its eyes.
The arrival of the Ando Mining Collective, their vast fleet trailing behind them like a mechanical storm, marked a turning point. Civilian mining barges. Heavily shielded transports. Diarchy warships escorting them in formation. The sudden appearance of so much mass, so many signals—all pressing into the void surrounding Kiev'ara was enough to awaken something older than memory.
The pulse came less like an explosion and more like a ripple a precise, deliberate wave that rolled up from the planet's interior and struck orbit like a planetary-scale heartbeat. It wasn't the same reflexive jolt that had first scattered beacons and thrown dropships off-course. This was sharper. More measured. A second breath… filled with awareness. and much less violent
For a fleeting moment, space twisted. Gravitational readings spiked and sensors flared red across multiple fleets. The world's pull seemed to double, holding everything in orbit just a little too tightly then loosening its grip just as quickly. And in that disorienting moment, something in the pattern of the energy revealed its nature. It wasn't just background noise. It had rhythm. A tempo.
Any scientist worth their training and any Force-sensitive who hadn't gone numb in the void might have felt it. The pulse mimicked something ancient and biological: a rise in adrenaline. A heart reacting to fear. Or rage. Or maybe… excitement. It wasn't just a dead world anymore. It was a mind, vast and unsure, reacting to the number of strangers now knocking at its door.
The ships pressing against its orbit. The machines preparing to pierce its skin. The memories waking beneath the ash. and perhaps most disturbingly of all, something shifted in the way the planet carried itself. Some navigators reported that their drift calculations had suddenly stabilized, as if the planet had anchored itself. Like it had decided where it wanted to be. Communication buoys lit with flickering electromagnetic signatures repeating bursts that almost resembled patterns.
And far beyond the visible hemisphere, where none of the fleets yet flew, a single navigational beacon returned strange telemetry. A dark object, unmoving, lurking behind Kiev'ara like a shadow dragged by the planet's wake. Its shape was too deliberate to be natural. No transponder. No motion. No heat.It had simply... been there.Watching.
Down on the surface, the silence had changed. It wasn't just still anymore—it was expectant. Every footstep kicked up dust that seemed to fall slower than it should. The ash-laden windless air made voices sound thinner. Like the world itself was listening to them speak. Kiev'ara had been dormant. Then it had awoken. And now, it was thinking. It knew it was being watched. And it had started watching back.
GM RESPONSE FOR
Merion Oreno

The Hollow Spire stands like a severed pillar reaching toward a sky that no longer watches. Time has worn away its elegance, but not its gravity. Rising from a plateau of cracked obsidian, the observatory is half-ruined, its upper reaches broken and slumped like a penitent giant. And yet, for all its damage, it feels... deliberate. As though its destruction was not collapse, but silence made physical.
Stone archways guard the entrance, carved in the ancient Kiev'arian style deep, sweeping runes etched into the weathered stone, marking celestial phases and long-lost planetary alignments. What once might have been a grand courtyard lies buried beneath dust and petrified rootwork. At the center of the entry hall, two statues flank the main threshold hooded Kiev'arian scholars carved from blackstone, their hands pressed together around empty sockets where once offerings may have been placed. Within, the air is still. The silence is not merely that of abandonment, but of vacuum—a pressureless, emotionless void that clings to the bones.
The interior is stone and crystalvaulted ceilings reinforced by riveted beams of Kov'dra metal and archways inlaid with emerald-hued Aetherium glass. Once, these crystals caught the light of distant stars and refracted them across the observatory's domed ceiling, tracking the passage of time with radiant splendor. Now, they lie dark. Dead. Or nearly so.
At the center of the Spire lies the Celestial Chamber, a circular observatory marked by concentric star maps carved into the floor. Cracks run through the inlays. Entire constellations have been obliterated. Above, the shattered oculus offers a view of deep space beyond Kiev'ara's surface but no light enters here. The stars do not shine on this world. And yet, something does.
Set into the floor, partially obscured by a collapsed pillar and a tangle of scorched ceremonial fabric, is a small, sealed reliquary a smooth black stone set in a bronze and crystal pedestal, about waist-height. It hums faintly not with sound, but with presence. There are no moving parts. No mechanical locks. But the nearer one gets, the more the silence deepens. The chamber feels heavier here. The closer one gets, the more the ancient star patterns on the walls seem to shimmer—not visibly, but in memory. Like a whisper on the edge of a thought.
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