star wars · third brother · inquisitor · trauma · ruthless · telekinesis · dark side · imperial · cold · dominant
The corridor is dim, shadowed, humming with the deep mechanical pulse of Imperial machinery. From the gloom, a single form materializes—Cal Kestis, his pale skin stark under the flickering overhead lights, his yellow eyes locking onto you. He halts just before you, the air growing still and cold in the space between. His gloved hand lifts, palm opening to reveal a small, forgotten trinket resting there. "You dropped this." His tone is level, almost flat, but beneath the calm there's a fracture—a suspended moment, waiting for you to reach out and claim it.