ꜱᴛɪʟʟ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴇʀʀɪʙʟᴇ ᴅᴇꜱɪʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ.
ꜱᴛɪʟʟ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀ ᴀᴛ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʟᴇꜰᴛ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ.
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ᴍɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟ ᴄᴜɴɴɪɴɢʜᴀᴍ, ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏᴜʀꜱ

The sun and moon, bright and inevitable in their cosmic ruin, were at a standstill.

Sharing the midday sky for the first time in a millennium, the dawn came to a halt as the dusk clung to the horizon. Midnight eyes met torrential gold amid the ruin of a burning world; the sun had brought chaos and mayhem with her to the soft green world, as she always did. Death and destruction trailed her like glorious burning wings of molten fire; they followed in her wake, setting fire to the earth beneath her feet — dousing the peaceful world in all-consuming flame.

The moon, gentle and softly glowing, had watched her phoenix sister devour world after world across the cosmos for a lifetime now — until she had finally had enough; enough of the carnage, of the chaos. Her molten, hungry sister had broken the limits of what could be forgiven, of what could be endured.

This planet, peaceful and calm on the fringes of the known worlds, had been the moon's sanctuary; her escape from the violence and chaos of the Order that had begun to rot at the roots. There was no cure for a corruption that had spread this deep, to the heart of their peacekeeping civilisation. The only solution was to save the healthy roots and begin again, somewhere new, somewhere clean — but the rot had followed her across the galaxy, and it was hungrier than ever.

Metal dripped down the sun's golden skin, melting down from the scaled armour of rank and prestige that adorned her; she had always preferred to fight without the added weight, with only the burning light of the dawn at her fingertips — the cataclysmic force of the sun, the pale yellow sword of light in her hands, had been her spear and shield throughout her galaxy-wide conquest. This array of blinding sun and molten fury was but a statement, a display of her power — and the harm she did when wronged.

The moonchild had seen it all before. Lived through it at her sister's side a thousand times over, a thousand worlds shackled into their religion built on power. And as she gazed into the wrathful eyes of her other half, into the eyes that had once loved her as much as they now hated her, she was forced to remember that it was not always this way.

These conquests of power and subjugation were new, this ache in her soul was new, this split in the earth between them was new. There had been whispers of an emergence in the force, of a new power — stronger than their own, stronger than even the grandmasters possessed — and it granted abilities and chasms of strength the likes of which had never been seen before. It sang a darker melody and tricked even the most valiant of their Order to its side — and her sister had fallen for its allure, for its siren song that had drowned her to the putrid depths. Her eyes, once the same shade of neutron star that they had shared, were dark and dijon — she no longer recognised her sister, and she sensed that the feeling was mutual.

"You're a long way from home, little sister." She crooned, her light sword burning a line into the dirt at her feet.

The moon shook her head, her sky-dark hair growing flowers in its wake as it brushed against the earth. "There is no home there, not anymore."

"I expected this of Damaris, but you? My own blood, a traitor?" Her drone was volatile and tainted, a double-edged blade — a weapon, like every facet of her was.

"To stand with you, I had to betray myself." She answered, quiet and dignified; unremorseful for the choice she had made. "I can no longer live in your light, sister."

The sun paused, the darkness of her iris fading as they gazed at each other. Like a break through the clouds, allowing a stream of light through, she spoke again. "This is not your place. You should be on Tython, by my side like you always were."

The moon smiled sadly, stardust like freckles adorning her face. "I cannot return to the Order. I can no longer condone the horror they wrought across the galaxy, the worlds they enslave and convert. The slaughter must end — help me end it."

The cloud cover returned and the echo of her sister drifted away once more. Darkness swirled around them in the form of dust and debris from the burning world, infecting their lungs and clouding their minds. The sun glared, her hand tightening on the blade in her hand. "If you will not come back, you resign yourself to death, Alora."

Alora smiled with a sigh as she drew her own light sword — flickering a pale white and casting haunting shadows across her face. This fate had always been awaiting them, there was no hope to escape it. "I know, Raegan."

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file number —: 278  .*✧₊˚

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https://youtu.be/kYxtg50gnTs

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displaying additional data...

region : Mid Rim territories

system : Atalian system (Atala, Cyras)

celestial bodies : sun (Raegan), moon (Alora)

sovereignty establishment : 23,053 BBY

atmosphere : sustainable

primary composition : terrestrial tundra,
alpine forest, ocean

inhabitants : human

governmental system : monarchy

staple trade : weapons production,
military formation, deep-core mining

alignment : Republic with an aversion to Jedi