Behind the Curtain

Posted on Sun Feb 22nd, 2026 @ 5:35pm by Melliah Glynt & Axion
Edited on on Sun Feb 22nd, 2026 @ 5:48pm

1,300 words; about a 7 minute read

Chapter: Chapter VIII: Broken Chains
Location: Mistress Glynt's Chambers, Wyrd Estate, New Alderaan
Timeline: Concurrent with "Wyrd Company"

The bed chamber was dark with the thick curtains designed to obscure even the brightest New Alderaanian sunlight and keep outside eyes from seeing in. Only the faint blue glow of the holoprojector lit her face as she knelt, hands folded neatly before her.

The device chimed once.

Then the air above it shimmered, coalescing into the towering silhouette she knew so well. While she could not see the holoprojection, she could sense Axion's form, lightyears away, as though he was in the room with her.

Melliah bowed her head, voice smooth and reverent.

"My Lord."

The figure regarded her in silence: a stillness that was not passive, but pensive and measuring. She felt the pressure of his attention settle over her like hands pressing down on her shoulders.

He did not need to speak for her to know the command.

"I bring news," she continued, lifting her chin just enough to meet the lower edge of his projection, “The ones we discussed: Thane, Bomoor, and the Nautolan woman known as Zaracoda. They have arrived on New Alderaan."

She allowed herself a small, knowing smile.

"They come here under the the banner of the Human's Caanan House: the House of Verus, with the younger woman serving as his ward and the Ithorian wielding some flimsy attachment to his father's diplomatic credentials in the Mayagil sector."

Her fingers brushed the floor lightly as she shifted her weight.

"They have accepted the tour of the estate and tonight, they will attend the masquerade ball where they will meet Lord Wyrd."

She paused, waiting to see if her master would interject before continuing.

"I do not believe they know of me, my lord. My position here remains discreet..."

Another pause, not wishing to presume her right to continue.

"If you so wish it," she offered softly, "I can erase every trace before they draw too near. There will be nothing for them to uncover."

She waited, perfectly still, for his judgement.

Axion did not blink. He wore a ghost of a smile and was slow to finally speak.

"They have been inconvenient." The faint smile thinned to something colder. "The loss of our city of clouds was not accident, nor was their discovery of my servants here. The broken Jedi learns. The herd-walker endures. That is… troublesome."

His eyes darkened.

"They pull at threads that belong to me. They dismantle what you build. They interfere with the great work." A flicker of restrained irritation crossed his expression. "I will not have my throne of belief chipped away by persistence and sentiment. Apotheosis does not tolerate disruption."

His gaze fixed on her with new intensity.

"And yet… "

The thoughtful tone carried weight. "The Caanan burns. The Ithorian fractures. And this girl..." A faint, predatory curve returned to his mouth. "Such beings are not merely enemies. They are resources."

His voice softened, almost intimate.

"If the girl can be stolen, steal her. If the herd-walker can be broken, break him. If the boy can be turned, I will unmake what remains of him and rebuild it in my image." The softness vanished. "If they resist our calling, kill them."

A narrowing of his eyes.

"I will not be hunted in my own galaxy."

Melliah bowed her head again, though a flicker of private thought passed behind her composed expression.

The men will be more trouble than they are worth, she mused silently, But the girl may yet be shaped.

When she spoke aloud, her tone was smooth and assured:

"As you command, my master. From the moment they step foot within these halls, I will shadow them. Guide them. They will move as I wish them to move."

She nodded her head in a gesture of quiet confidence.

"The Ithorian’s fragility can be… exploited. His doubts will ripple outward, softening the others. And the Caanan..."

A faint, knowing smile touched her lips.

"...he will feel my presence in the Force whether he wishes to or not. If I choose to reveal myself, he will follow the thread I lay before him."

She paused then, wondering if to put voice to her thoughts.

"But the Nautolan girl…" She chose her words carefully, thinking on how best to appeal to her dark master, "She intrigues me: an orphaned wanderer with a past stitched together by a skilled hand. She has lived too many lives for one so young. There is clearly more to her soft exterior; a burning fire."

Her voice lowered, almost reverent.

"She reminds me of the women of Emberlene: subtle, coercive and beautifully deadly."

Then, feeling as though she was exposing her neck to his blade, she tentatively asked:

"If we seek to bring her into the fold, my lord… might I be the one to guide her? Following your wise doctrine, of course."

Axion’s lips curved slowly. It was not warmth, of course. It was appetite.

For a moment he still said nothing, and the silence felt deliberate.

"If the girl can be turned… she would be a powerful ally."

The words were delivered almost lightly, as though borrowed from some private amusement, but the sick glint in his eyes betrayed the calculation beneath them.

"The broken Jedi would fracture beyond repair. The herd-walker would rage. And the Caanan would be forced to watch his failure made complete." His gaze remained fixed upon Melliah. "Yes. You may guide her. You were chosen above many, Glynt. New Alderaan is not a sanctuary. It is our furnace. Faith is refined here - dogma is shaped. You are my hand within these halls of misguided virtue." The faint smile returned, controlled and composed. "Your hands will move the levers still. End this irritation before it grows beyond novelty." His eyes narrowed slightly. "If the girl bends, claim her. If she proves unworthy, break her. The trio will not advance further than I permit."

There was a final, measured, twisted look.

"You were not placed here by accident. My will is flawless. Your destiny is divine."

Melliah bowed her head deeply, concealing a whisp of a smile at her master's agreement.

"Your guidance is a blessing and a comfort, master," she spoke softly, almost chant-like, "I shall enact your will: these interlopers will see the power of the truly faithful. They will bend, or they will break."

The fading projection flickered once, then stabilised just long enough for Axion’s eyes to hold her.

"Bend or break, yes…" That insincere smile returned, thin and knowing. "But remember, Glynt… I do not merely break my enemies. I consume them."

A final stillness, intentional for his devout follower.

"Bring me something worthy from this, my hand. Faith… or ruin."

The light fractured, and he was gone.

His final words reverberated through the chamber, soaking into Melliah's very being. The projection began to fade, the towering form dissolving into fractured lines of blue until only the empty hum of the projector remained.

Melliah stayed kneeling long after the image vanished. Still and composed, she thought deeply on her master's will and, perhaps more so, the thought moulding the young Nautolan girl.

'Zaracoda' or whatever you truly call yourself now, she thought playfully, What delights I will introduce you to.

Her contemplation was only broken by a whisper of recognition in the Force. The visitors had now entered the house.

"Faith or ruin," she murmured to the darkness.

She extinguished the projector with a brush of her fingers and turned toward the door, her expression serene, her purpose renewed.

The dance had begun.

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