The Temple of the Jedi Order had seen war before, but never like this.
The corridors of Coruscant's great Jedi Temple were normally filled with calm footsteps, soft voices, and the quiet hum of meditation. Now they were alive with urgency. Healers moved quickly, medical droids rolled in precise formation, and stretchers were rushed through wide archways toward the infirmary bays.
At the center of it all stood Master Vokara Che.
The Twi'lek Jedi Chief Healer maintained a composed exterior, her posture steady, her movements controlled, but her eyes revealed the gravity of the situation. She had treated battlefield injuries before—blaster burns, shrapnel wounds, even Force-related trauma—but what had just arrived from the Naboo shuttle pushed beyond the ordinary.
"Prepare the primary ward," she instructed calmly. "Stabilization teams, position three and five. Anticoagulants ready. We will need rapid clotting support and Force-assisted recovery."
Her voice carried authority without urgency, but every healer present could feel it—this was not routine.
Behind her, Master Yoda stood silently, his small frame almost still as stone, his ears angled slightly downward. His eyes were closed at first, as if sensing through the Force rather than observing with sight.
Then he opened them.
"Disturbing, this is," Yoda said quietly.
Vokara Che nodded. "Reports from Master Glaive were… fragmented. Survivors spoke of creatures—bodies held together by unnatural means. Magic. Dark side energy."
Yoda leaned slightly on his cane, his gaze distant. "Ancient echoes… from times long buried. Returned, they have been."
The shuttle's arrival had interrupted any lingering uncertainty. What had been described in reports was now confirmed in physical form—warriors of the Jedi Order brought back wounded, some critically.
Among them… Dagon Marek.
Even before he was fully visible, the Force itself seemed to react to his presence.
Or perhaps… his absence.
Vokara Che felt it immediately.
A disruption.
A severing.
The familiar threads of connection—bond signatures, emotional resonance, Force-linked awareness—were strained, faint, and incomplete.
"Something is wrong," she said under her breath.
Yoda's ears twitched. "Yes… felt it, I have. A bond… weakened."
---
In another section of the Temple, the shuttle doors had already opened.
Flare stood frozen among the others in the hangar bay.
The moment the doors slid apart, the smell of burned metal and cauterized flesh spilled into the air. It was not subtle. It hit like a wave.
A silence followed.
Then movement.
Puck emerged first, staggering slightly under the weight of his burden. His small frame strained, one shoulder bearing the weight of Dagon Marek's partially supported body. Dagon's form was unmistakable even in his injured state—his presence alone seemed to pull the attention of everyone in the hangar.
But what they saw made several gasp.
Half of Dagon's body was scorched. Burn marks ran across his arm, his torso marred by deep lacerations and cauterized wounds. His armor was either missing or melted away in sections, and his breathing—though present—was shallow.
Behind Puck, medical personnel rushed forward immediately.
"Move! Clear the path!"
"Stabilization unit! Now!"
Stella's hands trembled as she stepped forward instinctively, only to stop herself, her breath catching in her throat.
Kayla's expression tightened. Her usual confidence faltered, replaced with something raw and unfamiliar.
Fear.
Not of battle.
But of loss.
Flare's eyes locked onto Dagon's form, unable to process how quickly things had changed. Just moments ago, he had been away. Fighting. Leading. Now…
Now he was being carried like a casualty.
And yet… even in this state…
He was still here.
Still alive.
---
In the infirmary, Vokara Che met the incoming stretcher personally.
"Place him here," she ordered.
Puck nearly collapsed as the medical team took over, carefully transferring Dagon onto the diagnostic bed. His breathing remained shallow but stable.
"Half-body thermal trauma," one healer reported. "Multiple lacerations. Internal damage possible. Force-signature unstable."
Vokara Che placed her hands lightly above Dagon's chest, not touching, but extending her awareness through the Force.
What she felt made her pause.
There was strength.
But it was… compartmentalized.
Protected.
As though something within him had been deliberately sealed away.
"He has shielded himself," she murmured. "Or… been shielded."
Yoda stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he sensed the same anomaly.
"The bond he shares… suppressed it is," Yoda said.
Vokara Che nodded. "To prevent transmission of his condition, perhaps. Or to protect those connected to him from experiencing his potential death."
Yoda closed his eyes briefly.
"Painful choice… that is."
---
Back in the hangar, the girls stood together, though each experienced the moment differently.
Flare's hands clenched slightly.
Stella's breathing became uneven.
Kayla's jaw tightened, her eyes fixed on the direction Dagon had been taken.
Visenya remained still, but her gaze softened with concern rather than panic.
And Ahsoka…
Ahsoka felt it the most.
The absence.
The disconnection.
The bond she had grown accustomed to—subtle, constant, reassuring—was no longer fully present. It wasn't gone, but it was… distant. Like trying to hear a voice through thick walls.
Her chest tightened.
"He… cut it off," Ahsoka said quietly.
Stella looked at her. "What do you mean?"
Ahsoka swallowed. "The Force bond. It's… weakened on purpose. He's blocking it."
Kayla frowned. "Why would he do that?"
Ahsoka's ears lowered slightly. "So we wouldn't feel it… if something happened."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Real.
Flare looked down briefly, her expression tightening as understanding settled in.
"He didn't want us to suffer with him," she said softly.
Stella shook her head slightly, as if trying to deny the implication. "That's… that's not fair."
But her voice cracked at the end.
Visenya placed a gentle hand on Stella's shoulder, steadying her.
"He's protecting us," Visenya said calmly. "Even now."
Kayla exhaled slowly, her earlier confidence replaced by something more grounded.
"…He always does that."
---
In the infirmary, Vokara Che continued her work.
"Healing teams, begin stabilizing tissue integrity," she instructed. "We will support cellular regeneration through both medical and Force-assisted means. Monitor vitals closely."
A healer nearby spoke up. "Chief Healer, his Force signature is… unusually dense."
Vokara Che glanced briefly at the monitor readings.
"Yes," she said. "And disciplined. He is containing significant internal strain."
Yoda observed silently.
"He fights even now," he said.
Vokara Che responded, "Or has fought already… and is still recovering from what he endured."
She paused, then added quietly, "The report mentioned creatures. Not droids. Not conventional enemies."
Yoda opened his eyes again.
"Dark they were. Ancient… and unnatural."
His tone carried weight—not fear, but recognition.
---
Back in the hangar, the initial shock had begun to settle, replaced by anxious waiting.
Reports circulated quickly among the gathered Jedi.
Critically wounded.
Multiple injuries.
Immediate medical intervention required.
No fatalities confirmed.
That last detail spread like a lifeline through the crowd.
Stella exhaled shakily when she heard it.
"…He's alive."
Kayla crossed her arms, but the tension in her posture didn't fully ease.
Flare remained focused, her gaze still fixed toward the infirmary corridors.
Ahsoka stood slightly apart, her eyes distant as she reached inward through the Force, trying to feel something—anything—of Dagon's presence.
It was faint.
But it was there.
A quiet signal beneath the noise.
"He's still holding on," Ahsoka said softly.
Visenya closed her eyes briefly, offering silent relief.
---
In the infirmary, Vokara Che stepped back slightly as the medical team continued their work.
Yoda approached the bedside.
He looked at Dagon Marek for a long moment.
Then spoke.
"Strong, he is. But tested beyond measure, he has been."
Vokara Che nodded. "Whatever he faced… it was not ordinary combat."
Yoda's gaze remained steady.
"No. Something older."
A pause followed.
Then Yoda added, more quietly:
"And something that may not be finished with him yet."
---
Outside the infirmary, the girls waited.
Not in silence exactly.
But in a shared stillness.
A tension that came from not knowing.
From waiting.
From hoping.
And from the quiet, unspoken understanding that whatever had happened out there…
Had changed something.
Not just for Dagon Marek.
But for all of them.