Burn Through the Witches

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She'd spent years trying to escape the Netherworld and all the trauma it had afflicted her with, but the cosmos seemed to find cruel humor in pitting her against that dreadful plane time and time again. At least this time, she wouldn't be alone. Rook would have the Riftwalkers by her side, an elite team of Naboo Security formed specifically for expeditions to the Nether; having been trained by none other than Rook herself, she knew that they were dependable.
Movement in her peripheral made Rook glance to the side, where her eyes found Grandmaster Sal-Soren standing nearby.
"Good evening, Master Jedi," Rook said in her thick Rorian accent. "Can't sleep?" It must've been well after midnight, in those wee hours of the morning where going to sleep sounds lovely, but the sun would shine sooner than dreams could form.
"Care to join me?"
