Recent content by Lyanna Starborn

Her saber hummed steady, the blade held upright in a high guard — but her posture shifted subtly. Relaxed. Not open, but… accepting. Observant. The boy who once wielded the Force like a cudgel now shaped it like a current. It flowed through him. With him. A welcome evolution. A necessary one...

Lyanna – Within and Without The gates gave way. A scream—not of a person, but of metal—ripped across the bailey as the Marktinimach Beast crashed through at last. Fire and shrapnel surged inward, sweeping the last of the barricades into cinders. The Starborn defenders died screaming, fighting...

Lyanna-Fauste (Light) Her silver eyes flared—calm, cold stars eclipsed by battle’s fury. She turned as the Marskha Champion descended, his axe swinging down in a meteor of metal and malice. But her expression did not change. Her red lightsaber snapped up in a blur of red light, not to block—but...

The Bailey burned. Fauste stood in the crater where the Marskhahir had fallen, steam rising from her robes, her saber humming its basso song—red and relentless. Blood clung to her armor in arterial streaks, black smoke curling from the gashes along her arms and legs. Around her, the ground was...

Lyanna accepted the final document with a single nod, tucking it beneath the fold of her cloak without looking at it. Her gaze stayed on Zakur, measured and still. “Let them write what they will,” she said coolly. “Those who traffic in spectacle often miss the deeper currents. The Starborn do...

Lyanna took the coin, turning it once between her gloved fingers — first the Republic, then the Sith Empire. Her expression did not betray any amusement, only a subtle acknowledgment of the irony. Two broken empires, enshrined in metal. Two failures, worshiped in hindsight. “This coin is a...

Beneath the Ice. Lyanna’s fingers twitched. The pain came first. Then the voices. The Force split itself across her senses—anguish, madness, hunger. It surged from the heavens, a maelstrom of old gods and broken war machines, screaming in tongues lost to sanity. The Similfuturus above...

Lyanna took the offered document without glancing at it — not yet. Instead, she held Zakur’s gaze, considering his words and the weight behind them. When she finally stepped closer, her presence was like the eye of a storm — quiet, yet full of gravity. “You want a myth?” she asked, voice low...

She stood beneath the ice. The world roared above her—screaming metal, split stone, the thunder of descending war. Yet within the buried sanctum, Lyanna was still. Her breath was shallow, her limbs unmoving, encased in the cold embrace of Ilum’s ancient stone. Around her, the ring of...

The bellow was raw. Fierce. She felt it echo in the Force like a warhorn sounding across a battlefield. Lyanna didn’t move as the wave of kinetic energy surged toward her, even as it crushed the levitating equipment beside her into the far wall. Her feet shifted slightly. One behind the other...

Lyanna stood still as the officer delivered his report, her gaze flicking briefly to the words Ballad of Sabers before returning to Zakur with a tilt of her head. She listened, unreadable at first, though the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth suggested some private amusement at his...

The words twisted their way into her skull like a dagger of black ice. “Desmundor Alcademon’s greatest kill…” They echoed with the resonance of challenge, yet beyond the taunt she heard something deeper—certainty. It was not a boast, but a prophecy he carved for himself, a fate he dared brand...

The sky screamed. The blast had struck the upper spire of the Kyber facility before the alarm klaxons could even reach their full wail. Light—not like fire, but like the dying gasp of a star—bleached the observation deck in blue-white brilliance. The beam cored straight through crystalline...

The cold on Ilum was not the kind that stung the skin. It burrowed deeper, worming through flesh and bone, searching for weakness. Lyanna Starborn stood on the observation platform of the Kyber Spire, the crystalline latticework of the mined caverns glowing faintly beneath her boots. She wore no...

Lyanna slowed to a halt beside the sign, her eyes scanning the blocked-off section as the hum of engineering work continued all around them. The scent of oil, ozone, and fresh alloy filled the air — not unpleasant, but sterile. She took it all in with the detached eye of someone trained to gauge...