The halls of the Inquisitorius were filled with dread. The air, thin and cold. Silent footsteps were heard as the clanking of troopers marched by. The dim crimson lights accompanied by the white shades lit up the almost completely darkened place. In sat a figure, a monolith, an unstoppable force.

Cassandra

She sat silent, her hands laying on her face as she stared into the abyss. Her gloves clenched, her cape covering her. Her lips blackened yet a pink hue was revealed as she smirked. A low beep was heard as the door slid up. The sound echoed through the vast empty room. She turned her attention towards the door as she sat up.

A pair of black heeled boots clicked across the floor, an orange Togruta dressed in white red and black scurried towards Cassandra. The air in the room was palpable. She clutched her datapad closer to her chest as her heart pounded. The Torgruta knew that this would not go well, her lekkus twitched as she approached Cassandra.

“My Lady,” she said in a sheepish tone, the fear was clawing at her throat at this point.

“Na’la…” Cassandra's voice was soothing — gentle yet there was that faint undertone of annoyance. Na’la had been with Cassandra for a while and even then…

“Na’la.”

“Y-Yes My Lady.”

Snapping out of her thoughts, she stared at her Lord, a truly sinister woman, her body adorned in all black and yet she couldn't help but not stare at her. Her boldness, her leadership were some of the things that Na’la had envied about her Lord. Before she could get caught for staring she pulled her datapad off her chest, her fingers tapping almost rhythmically, in unison so much that you would think she was a droid. She swiped across as the display flew to the side. Na’la cleared her throat, straightening her body.

“The reports came in, everything is moving nicely, all shipments are en route and Project Destroyer is still on schedule. It should be complete within 2 months.”

For a moment there was no response. Cassandra didnt turn or move. She remained gazing into the void, as though Na’la’s presence were a triviality between her notice. It wasn't the silence that scared Na’la however, it was the fact that Cassandra was listening, she was always listening. From your words and the emotion behind it to your heart beating, she didn't show it but Na’la knew. Even when she said nothing, watching without the need to look.

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Finally, Cassandra’s voice pierced through the stillness, quiet and measured.

“Show me.”

Na’la stepped forward. Presented her the datapad with steady hands, though her heart thudded against her ribcage, anything but steady. As she approached, Cassandra turned her head ever so slightly, just enough to acknowledge her. Her stare could freeze a room with a glance, she could cut a person with just her quiet presence. Na’la handed the datapad over, careful not to touch Cassandra's glove.

Cassandra’s eyes flicked over the information, her expression unreadable. She observed the data with a practiced ease, her mind far ahead of the report already calculating the next steps.

Codename Destroyer—an insidious project designed to purge entire sectors off the galaxy with a precision that would make the Death Star seem clumsy by comparison. It was nearly ready, nearly at her command.

“Everything is accounted for, My Lady.” Na’la added softly. “No delays, no unforeseen complications. We are…on schedule.”

Cassandra's eyes lingered on the final line of the report. Her silence stretched out again but this time it was heavier. Na’la had learned long ago that Cassandra did not use silence the same way as others. With Cassandra, the silence was a weapon.

Without warning, Cassandra quickly got up, her heels stomping as she closed the distance between them in less then a second. Na’la barely had time to react before Cassandra was in front of her, the full force of her gaze pinning her assistant to the ground.

“No complications,” Cassandra repeated, her tone aggressive, betraying nothing in her eyes. She looked at Na’la as if she wanted to choke her. “Yet you hesitate.”

Na’la’s mouth went dry. Her eyes flickered just for a second, betraying her attempt to stay composed. Cassandra caught it. She always did.

Na’la sighed, “There was…one report, My Lady.” She swallowed hard, forcing her words out. “A minor disturbance on the Outer Rim. The Rebellion is—”

Cassandra’s fingers tightened, her face revealing her anger. She didn’t need to raise her voice.

Did I ask about the Rebellion?”

The words fell between them like a stone in deep water. Na’la’s blood ran cold as she flinched, dropping to the floor in retaliation.

“N-no My Lady. It won't happen again.”

For a long moment, Cassandra said nothing. Her eyes focused on Na’la as a faint smirk appeared.

“See that it doesn't.” Her voice was low, steady, but there was no warmth in it. There never was. Cassandra turned away, her attention already returning to the datapad, as if Na’la had ceased to exist.

Na’la didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe too loudly. She sat there, her orange skin smeared with tears and snot as her face scrunched up. Her mind raced, wondering if finally outlived her usefulness.

But Cassandra merely waved a hand in the air, a subtle gesture of dismissal. Na’la took the chance and retreated. Her steps quick but quiet as she slipped out of the room. As the door shut behind her, she exhaled a breath she did not know she was holding.

Inside the chamber, Cassandra returned to her seat, turning it to face the windowed wall that revealed the vastness of space. She stared at the multicolored nebulous cloud as she felt a sense of peace or at least what she thought peace was. Destroyer was almost complete, a smile crawled across her face. Soon she would have in her grasp something beyond power, something unlike any other. She had something that would make her Master acknowledge her, something that would secure her position as an apprentice and as a Sith Lady. This made her feel joy, something she doesn't feel often. She let off a light chuckle, a chuckle that turned into an onslaught of laughter.

She didn’t need to scream or flaunt her power to inspire fear. Fear, after all, was most potent when it lingered in silence.