Lyanna Starborn
Darth Fauste - Sith Lord of the Starborn Sect
Lyanna Starborn sat draped in shadow, high upon the ivory dais that formed the seat of her dominion. Her throne room in the remains of the first Jedi temple was a sanctum of serenity and calculation, where the whisper of machinery and the distant hum of coils served as the only chorus. Light filtered in dully through thin slits in the durasteel walls—never enough to chase the darkness fully away.
She sat motionless, fingers steepled beneath her chin, silver eyes half-lidded in quiet thought. The Starborn were moving. The Migrant Fleet was sharpening its teeth. Across the stars, the galaxy groaned as rival powers vied for dominance over the ashes of order. Lyanna had seen it in visions—fractures beneath the surface, splintering empires crumbling under the weight of their own ambitions.
And then she felt the approach.
The air shifted—imperceptibly to most, but not to her. Her Operatives were punctual. Efficient. She allowed the silence to stretch for a few more seconds before speaking, voice a smooth ripple across the chamber’s gloom.
“Enter.”
The Operative crossed the threshold with crisp purpose, clad in the white armor of the intelligence corps, helmet under one arm, face unreadable even without the mask. He knelt without hesitation, head bowed.
“My Lady. We have confirmation. The HGRE has established a presence on Ahch-To.”
That name pulled Lyanna from stillness. A faint narrowing of her eyes, a tilt of the head.
“How very bold,” she echoed, voice cold as glacial stone. “To set up in our territory without so much as saying hello.”
The Operative nodded, rising only to hand her a small datapad. “Their intentions appear to be the construction of a cloning facility. The effort is still in early stages—supplies are being smuggled in, shielded under diplomatic routes. We intercepted the signal by chance the moment they entered the Archeon sector. The location was unmistakable.”
Lyanna accepted the datapad, eyes sweeping across the glowing lines of data. Coordinates. Topography. Satellite captures of a temporary landing structure perched precariously in the clouds.
To build here… to infringe upon her sovereignty…
She recalled stone and spray, ancient texts etched in languages older than any known script, hidden beneath the waters. The minds she’d tasted there had not been mortal. To meddle in this sanctum was to scratch at the skin of a god.
Her voice was quiet, but laced with purpose.
“They’ve chosen a path they cannot walk back from.”
She rose from her throne slowly, the long folds of her white robe spilling like fog down the dais. The Force shivered with the motion, the chamber itself seeming to exhale around her.
“Begin preparations,” she ordered. “Discreetly. We do not strike yet—not until the full extent of their intentions are known. But mark every supply ship. Every crew manifest. If they bring technology to my planet, I want to know the lineage of every circuit.”
The Operative bowed again. “As you command, Lord Fauste.”
Lyanna turned toward the stars beyond her chamber’s window. Somewhere in the mist-covered waters of Ahch-To, a fire kindled in defiance of ancient silence.
She would see it drowned.
Fauste motioned for the man to pause on his way out of the chamber. “One last thing. Inform the others to reach out to them. We will attempt diplomacy before resorting to violence on this matter. Having clones at our disposal… it sounds rather useful, no?”
Tag; @ImperialEevee
She sat motionless, fingers steepled beneath her chin, silver eyes half-lidded in quiet thought. The Starborn were moving. The Migrant Fleet was sharpening its teeth. Across the stars, the galaxy groaned as rival powers vied for dominance over the ashes of order. Lyanna had seen it in visions—fractures beneath the surface, splintering empires crumbling under the weight of their own ambitions.
And then she felt the approach.
The air shifted—imperceptibly to most, but not to her. Her Operatives were punctual. Efficient. She allowed the silence to stretch for a few more seconds before speaking, voice a smooth ripple across the chamber’s gloom.
“Enter.”
The Operative crossed the threshold with crisp purpose, clad in the white armor of the intelligence corps, helmet under one arm, face unreadable even without the mask. He knelt without hesitation, head bowed.
“My Lady. We have confirmation. The HGRE has established a presence on Ahch-To.”
That name pulled Lyanna from stillness. A faint narrowing of her eyes, a tilt of the head.
“How very bold,” she echoed, voice cold as glacial stone. “To set up in our territory without so much as saying hello.”
The Operative nodded, rising only to hand her a small datapad. “Their intentions appear to be the construction of a cloning facility. The effort is still in early stages—supplies are being smuggled in, shielded under diplomatic routes. We intercepted the signal by chance the moment they entered the Archeon sector. The location was unmistakable.”
Lyanna accepted the datapad, eyes sweeping across the glowing lines of data. Coordinates. Topography. Satellite captures of a temporary landing structure perched precariously in the clouds.
To build here… to infringe upon her sovereignty…
She recalled stone and spray, ancient texts etched in languages older than any known script, hidden beneath the waters. The minds she’d tasted there had not been mortal. To meddle in this sanctum was to scratch at the skin of a god.
Her voice was quiet, but laced with purpose.
“They’ve chosen a path they cannot walk back from.”
She rose from her throne slowly, the long folds of her white robe spilling like fog down the dais. The Force shivered with the motion, the chamber itself seeming to exhale around her.
“Begin preparations,” she ordered. “Discreetly. We do not strike yet—not until the full extent of their intentions are known. But mark every supply ship. Every crew manifest. If they bring technology to my planet, I want to know the lineage of every circuit.”
The Operative bowed again. “As you command, Lord Fauste.”
Lyanna turned toward the stars beyond her chamber’s window. Somewhere in the mist-covered waters of Ahch-To, a fire kindled in defiance of ancient silence.
She would see it drowned.
Fauste motioned for the man to pause on his way out of the chamber. “One last thing. Inform the others to reach out to them. We will attempt diplomacy before resorting to violence on this matter. Having clones at our disposal… it sounds rather useful, no?”
Tag; @ImperialEevee
