The door slid open, but Na’la hadn't been the one to activate it. Cassandra stood in the doorway, her silhouette imposing, towering over her assistant. Her presence seemed to suck the air from the corridor.
Na’la stumbled back, nearly tripping over herself. The datapad in her hands felt heavier than ever, her pulse quickening under the weight of Cassandra’s cold gaze.
“Why have you returned, Na’la? I dismissed you, yet here you stand.”
Cassandra’s voice was deceptively calm, but beneath it simmered an edge of displeasure, an impatience that could turn deadly if provoked.
Na’la swallowed, steeling herself. “My LAdy, please take a look. The message is from—”
Before she could finish, she extended the datapad toward Cassandra, who snatched it from her hand with a swift, practiced motion. As her eyes moved across the screen, scanning the Emperor’s seal, Na’la noticed the faintest flicker of surprise across her master’s face. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
Cassandra’s expression darkened as she scrolled through the message. The slight widening of her eyes faded into something colder, more calculating. She sucked her teeth in frustration and tossed the datapad back toward Na'la, who barely managed to catch it.
“Call Officer Kaldana,” Cassandra ordered, her tone flat and devoid of any warmth. “Have him prepare a shuttle with escorts as well as a detachment of stormtroopers for immediate planet-side deployment. They will be ready in an hour.”
She turned abruptly, her cloak sweeping behind her as her boots clicked against the floor. The sound was sharp, deliberate, punctuated by her growing annoyance. Cassandra stormed down the corridor, leaving Na’la in stunned silence. There was no room for hesitation when her master was in this mood, and Na'la quickly hurried off to carry out the command, her mind racing with thoughts of what was about to transpire.
Cassandra moved through the halls with a controlled fury. To be summoned for this—a protection detail for some inconsequential senator? It was beneath her. She was a Sith Lady, a wielder of the Dark Side, and yet here she was being forced to deal with petty politics and fragile diplomats.
Her anger flared, but she kept her face neutral, ignoring the troopers and officers scrambling to get into formation as she passed. They were nothing—mere cogs in the machine, too insignificant to even warrant her attention. Cassandra’s mind raced with thoughts of training, of battles, of how she could sharpen her skills, not babysit some simpering bureaucrat. She reached her destination, a nondescript door with a biometric pad screwed into the wall.
Without hesitation, she placed her hand against the scanner. The faint beep of recognition was quickly drowned out by the hiss of the door sliding open. She entered a pristine white room, sterile and cold, a stark contrast to the shadow she carried with her.
In the center of the room, a sleek console awaited her. Cassandra approached, her fingers flying across the keys with an intensity born of anger. The screen above flickered to life, bathing the room in an eerie light.
A figure appeared on the screen, cloaked in shadow and menace, though only a faint silhouette was visible.
“My Master,” Cassandra muttered as she dropped to one knee, bowing her head with the reverence expected of her. There was no delay, no hesitation in her movements, but beneath her composed posture, her blood boiled.
“Darth Nexius.”
She rose, her eyes meeting the distant image on the screen. “Master,” she began, forcing control into her voice, though the frustration slipped through. “Why have you given me this… trivial mission? Can we not send a fleet of purge troopers? Why must I be sent to protect a measly senator?” Her voice grew louder, her irritation seeping into every word.
Her fists clenched. It wasn’t that she feared the Emperor’s wrath—at least, not consciously—but the idea that her power, her skills, her ambition were being wasted on political errands grated against her very soul. She was meant for more than this. She was destined for greatness, and every second she spent on trivial tasks like this delayed her rise.
A long, heavy silence followed. The image on the screen remained still, a dark void with no reply.
Then, without warning, Cassandra felt it—a crushing, invisible force slammed into her, knocking the air from her lungs. Her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the ground, her entire body pinned down as if an enormous weight had fallen on her.
Stolen novel; please report.
The pain was instant and excruciating.
Her back cracked against the floor, her muscles tensing and straining as she tried to push herself up. But it was impossible. The weight pressed harder, heavier, each breath a struggle as her chest burned from the pressure. She let out a strangled scream, her body trembling under the force.
The ground beneath her fractured, tiny spiderweb cracks forming as the overwhelming power of the Dark Side suffocated her. Cassandra’s vision blurred, sweat dripping from her forehead as she stared up at the screen, at the distant silhouette that controlled her fate.
She saw the faint outline of an arm—his arm—lifting from the Emperor’s throne. He didn’t speak, but his will was clear. This wasn’t just punishment; it was a reminder. A reminder of who held true power in the galaxy.
With a flick of his hand, the pressure relented, just enough for Cassandra to gasp for air, her body trembling from the strain. Slowly, painfully, she managed to force herself up to her knees, her head hanging low as she tried to regain control over her shaking limbs.
The pain lingered, but it was the shame that stung more deeply. She had overstepped.
“It seems you’ve forgotten your place," the Emperor’s voice finally spoke, low and insidious, cutting through the silence like a blade. It was more than a reprimand—it was a cold, calculated reminder of the power he wielded, and how easily he could crush her. The words echoed in her mind, filled with a darkness that lingered, seeping into every corner of her being.
Cassandra trembled, her body still recovering from the overwhelming force that had pinned her down, but she forced herself upright. Her pride screamed against the humility she was forced to show, but she could not afford another misstep. Her anger, her ambition, her frustrations—they all had to be buried deep beneath a mask of subservience, at least for now.
"I live to serve, Master," she said through gritted teeth, lowering her head again in a show of respect, even though every fiber of her being raged against it. Her voice was steady, but beneath the surface, fury burned hotter than ever. She despised how the Emperor could control her with nothing more than a thought, how even as powerful as she was, she was still tethered to his will.
There was no reply. No acknowledgment. The screen dimmed, leaving only the faint glow of the console to light the room. Cassandra remained on her knees for a moment longer, her body tense, her mind already plotting. When she finally rose, her eyes burned with cold determination.
She would follow this assignment, yes. But not forever. Her time would come. One day, she would rise above her master, and when that day came, the galaxy would know true power—her power.
Cassandra turned away from the screen, her breathing still ragged but her composure returning. She didn’t need to scream to express her rage. Instead, her fury manifested in cold, calculated thoughts. Every move she made would bring her closer to that goal—she would wait, she would obey, until she no longer needed to.
Leaving the white chamber behind, she made her way back to the main hall, her boots tapping against the floor with measured precision. Every step seemed heavier, the weight of the Emperor’s presence lingering like a shadow she couldn’t shake.
She stormed back through the corridors, the red lights casting long, ominous shadows. Troopers and officers hurried out of her way, avoiding her gaze as if the very sight of her would burn them. She paid them no attention. Her mind was already calculating the details of this assignment.
A measly senator, Cassandra thought again with a sneer. But perhaps there was more to it than what was on the surface. The Emperor never acted without purpose, no matter how trivial the task seemed. Her mind whirled, piecing together fragments of information, already strategizing how to use this mission to her advantage. If there was something worth extracting from this senator or his planet, she would find it. And she would bend it to her will.
As she neared her quarters, her commlink buzzed with a notification. Officer Kaldana. Efficient, as expected.
"My Lady," his voice came through, crisp and clear. "The fleet is, per your orders. The shuttle will depart on your command."
"Good," Cassandra responded, her voice low and controlled. "Prepare for departure in one hour. I want no delays."
"Yes, my Lady," Kaldana replied, before the line went silent.
Cassandra entered her quarters, the door sliding shut behind her with a soft hiss. The room was dark, but she didn’t need light. She moved to a small console on the far side of the room, tapping the screen. A hologram of the senator’s planet flickered to life, hovering before her like a ghost.
The mission parameters were simple—protect the senator, ensure her safety, and investigate the threats of insurgency on her world. It sounded easy, but Cassandra knew better. Where there was Rebellion, there were often Jedi, lurking in the shadows, trying to destabilize the Empire from within. If she was lucky, she would cross paths with one. It had been too long since she had felt the rush of hunting down a Jedi, of cutting through their self-righteous facade with the cold truth of the Dark Side.
She studied the hologram for several long minutes, her mind working, her hatred simmering just beneath the surface. The senator was irrelevant. What mattered was what she could gain from this. If a Jedi was involved, she would make them suffer. If the Rebellion was spreading, she would crush it before it could take root.
Her commlink buzzed again.
"My Lady, Officer Kaldana here again," his voice came through, this time with a hint of hesitation. "We’ve received a transmission from the senator’s office. There’s… unrest on the ground. The insurgents are already mobilizing. They’ve requested we accelerate our arrival."
Cassandra’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a small, dangerous smile. "Tell them we’re coming. And tell them to prepare for my arrival."