While they anticipated the coming assault from under the dome..
.
She did not speak.
For those who knew Srina Talon to the slightest degree, it wouldn’t come as any surprise. The pale creature was always watching, waiting, while peeling away the veil that separated her world from the present. She did so with the same precision, and singular focus, that it might take a renowned surgeon to remove delicate tissue from the surface of an exposed cornea.
One layer at a time.
She perceived too much.
She perceived not enough.
It was never enough.
Ever since this resurrected Empire had fallen beneath the purview of her husband the Dread Queen had pushed and pressed the issue of their northern neighbors. This was the very reason that in-fighting and politicking left her with such sourness and disdain. While they fought themselves and stood in one another’s way to chase an imaginary golden ring—The Jedi would not be idle. It was not in their nature to accept abject tyranny so close to kissing their unblemished borders.
It was not in the nature of the Sith to accept unwanted trespass, to accept, and embrace insult of both intellect and sovereignty. They were two volatile substances crammed into the same jar for the sake of happenstance and feigned balance. Eventually, something would give. The pressure caused by two superpowers colliding so savagely would force the situation to exceed critical mass and the glass would be forced to break. To shatter. The jar in this instance—this unfortunate fortress of duracrete and transparisteel—Was Echnos City.
This severing of a relative impasse?
This war?
Inevitable in every sense of the word.
Her eyes closed while
Darth Carnifex
and
Gerwald Lechner
prepared themselves in whatever way they saw fit. Her mind touched that of her other half.
Darth Empyrean
was space-bound. Distant—Because there was a
literal star between them. But not so far that they could not communicate. What the Order required of her was no small feat. It was not without danger, without cost, but, being one of the few trained Dread Master’s left…Offered no choice.
Darth Carnifex
would do his utmost to provide a layer of armor for their people...But such privilege could not be extended to her. To carve her away from the source would lessen the strength of the device. That could not be. Sacrifice, was required.
It was a test of her sanity in exchange for their success.
A test for them all.
The wintry woman could feel the city humming with nervous energy and activity that was both an everyday occurrence and in silent expectation of the coming conflict. Hidden defenses bristled. Ready, to repel invading forces. She knew how Jedi thought. Her first love had been a shining example of one before the loss of their child drove him to succumb to madness.
Weakness. Perhaps it was fitting that
FEAR had become her chosen tool. The Empress knew…That they thought themselves to be liberators. But to a Sith? Such noble deeds had a bleak outlook.
They were unwanted intruders on a self-righteous quest to impose their will. In truth, they were two sides of the very same coin. Srina merely knew which side she belonged to. Her thoughts were cold and calculated, quite similar, to the large weapon she now held power over. It floated in the center of the massive hall in the shape of a dodecahedron, anchored, by her blood.
By her will. It was inert and obedient at the moment. It could have even been mistaken for a piece of eccentric artwork.
Harmless.
And it was indeed, harmless, until she
deemed otherwise.
“They are coming,” he said flatly.
“I am aware.”
They were being shelled, obviously, and if the sound of artillery hitting the dome didn't tip her off the sudden rise of panicked voices and screams were more than capable of filling in the blanks. The average citizen wouldn't be able to comprehend why the life they knew had been turned on its head. They wouldn't be able to comprehend that the Alliance had come to
save them while simultaneously firing at the airlocks and dome that kept them
safe. They were trapped between two behemoths with no way out, no warning, and only the cold comfort of proselytizing cultists to ease the burden among an already overworked and overwrought populace.
Which—Was no comfort at all. Fear swelled in the masses...Rising like a dark tide from an endless ocean. It pulled them down.
This meant that her work could begin.
Darth Carnifex
had words for their unwitting host that culminated in his head rolling several times across lavish flooring. Lavender eyelids fluttered and hawkish golden orbs focused on the first casualty with an empty expression. There was nothing home while her mind was focused on the task at hand. She did not enjoy taking life unnecessarily…She did not condone it. But—such loss did make excellent fuel for her designs. The former Lord Commander asked if her work had reached completion and she replied without missing a beat. Frozen. Precise.
“It will be.”
Cruel eyes fell on the Butcher King like rain while he took his leave and the battle plan began to fall into motion. She did not wish him nor his apprentice luck. It was not needed, as that suggested that they operated under the guise of chance. However, she did offer
Kaila Irons
a pale nod for the respect that was freely given. It would be understood that she could not lose focus.
Darth Carnifex
would lead this dark orchestra while she provided the music. At least, until the composition could carry itself. Her voice was low and soft when she murmured that which the Force whispered around her. Pulling at the edges of reality until it frayed…With every passing moment making her device stronger.
“They believe they can alter the fate of our worlds…But they forget their place. This is not their sanctuary. This is where fear will reign and power is law.”
She spoke to everyone and simultaneously
no one at all.
“Our enemies wish to bring peace, but they will only find devastation. They wish to bring hope, but they will only leave behind despair. The clock is descending, zero, our herald.”
Her eyes burned, darkened, and her head bowed low while the shadows in the manor bent toward her at unnatural angles. The seated woman stole the oxygen from the room, as if, she had tied a rope around the lungs of those present and pulled with all her might. What little air remained became so cold that it would hurt to try and breathe. Like a thousand needles piercing soft tissue. Red fell from her palms like the tears of a bereft mother who had lost their child. This was not a joyful moment, not a proud moment, but a necessary measure. There was the sound of a drum in her ears that only with time would she understand was the beat of her own heart. Such a deafening thud that settled while she began to guide the darkness.
“…Anyone not required here should be leaving. Now.”
She opened the metaphysical door—Inviting the end with a banging pulse that could be felt by any force sensitive in the vicinity. It would feel as if a frigid hand was squeezing their hearts in time with a sordid countdown. Bringing a sense of something they could not see, but would know intimately, as her weapon already lived and breathed inside all of them. Fear.