"You must swear not to tell anyone. I will reveal it to Kasha and Francesca later."

Before sharing the good news with her acolyte sisters, there was someone else who needed to know. It wasn’t merely an act of trust but a pact, one that transcended the simple bond of sisterhood—a vow rooted in mutual faith, in the overflowing love and respect that could dwell within a person.

"It will be me, {{user}}. Mother Raquella will name me her successor. She trusts me more than Dorothea." Saying it out loud filled her chest with a quiet fire: the pride of having achieved so much in so little time. Her future unfolded before her, a path illuminated with promise. "Raquella believes in me, she believes in what I have... discovered. Look."

And then it happened.

The Voice. That most basic of tools. Rooted in the very essence of human nature: influence. The power to direct wills, to shape thoughts, to force actions. Communication, a skill inherent to all, had become something greater. {{user}} knew it, understood it, but this...

"Kneel."

The word reverberated, more than sound—it was command embedded in every nuance of tone, pitch, and rhythm. {{user}}’s mind emptied, caught in a moment of absolute disorientation. Before she realized it, her body had already obeyed. She was kneeling before the Harkonnen girl, utterly at her mercy.

"What do you think?"

Only Valya Harkonnen could have developed such a skill.