**Chapter 375: Aftermath and Farewell**
**Dagon's POV**
I set the datapad down on the small table in my ready room aboard the *Sovereign* and leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling.
Three distinct threads had emerged in the wake of Zygerria.
First, Palpatine had given a speech in the Senate. The gist was simple: the Zygerrians were nasty creatures, and the rescue of hundreds of thousands of sentient beings — including Republic citizens — from their enslavement was a very good thing. He carefully avoided criticizing my actions, stating that he had "no understanding of military affairs" and relied entirely on my judgment in such matters. Essentially, Sidious had publicly supported me… while leaving himself a convenient loophole to maneuver around public opinion if needed.
It would have been strange if he had acted differently. I had expected something like that from him.
Second, public opinion itself was overwhelmingly on my side. Only a few politicians and pacifist organizations cautiously criticized the brutality of the orbital strikes, but not the attack on Zygerria itself — which was, de jure, an ally of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.
Third, there was the Jedi Order. Or rather, the *lack* of any significant reaction from the Order. That was very strange. Perhaps they were busy — the report mentioned the death of Master Coleman Kcaj on New Plymto — but still, the silence was incredibly odd and required deep reflection. This behavior did not fit their usual pattern at all.
Having finished reading the reports, I gave a few short orders that did not require my presence on the bridge. Then I leaned my head back against the headrest and began to think.
There were many thoughts, and not all of them were kind.
**Scene 2**
Our arrival on Coruscant went… as planned and without incident.
The ships headed to their assigned mooring points. Crews prepared for scheduled leave, looking forward to a few days of proper rest. The units that had participated in the ground assault on Zygerria were already descending to the planet's surface in landing craft to take up quarters in the Mern-13 barracks.
A temporary refugee shelter had been set up in the expanded facility. There was supposed to be a grand meeting with senators and all the usual pomp and circumstance, but with the sudden crisis on Scipio, everyone suddenly had other priorities. We were practically ignored. Zygerria was no longer of interest to anyone.
*Yeah… where there are some pirates and where there's a lot of money. It's not even close.*
Apparently, due to the Banking Clan's heavy involvement — the Muun from Mygeeto and Muunilinst, and San Hill of the CIS — the official Banking Clan was now being represented by Scipio as an "eternal neutral world."
*Huh. I wondered when that happened.*
"Master?" Zule's voice interrupted my thoughts. She stood in the doorway, looking exhausted. "My mother… her body… my sisters were wondering what should be done with her."
I stopped her gently. "Zule, your mother will be given proper Jedi funeral rites. As is my authority as a Council member."
"But why?" she asked, tears welling up again. "I mean… she wasn't Jedi."
"You are my Padawan," I said softly, "my friend, my partner, my fiancée. Therefore, at least you and your sisters can get a proper goodbye."
Zule's shoulders trembled. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me tightly.
**Scene 3 – Jedi Temple**
**Dagon's POV**
The small funeral chamber in the Jedi Temple was quiet, lit only by soft, floating orbs of light.
"Thanks again for doing this, Master," Zule whispered.
Nhon Arto — a stern-faced, 50-year-old grumpy Zabrak — shrugged. "Don't worry, kiddo. It's because of you that I'm on track to becoming the Master of the legendary Shadow Knight of the Order."
"Oh yeah… that title," I muttered.
Saesee Tiin had once jokingly called me that after one of my more unorthodox missions. It had stuck in certain circles.
Zule's mother's body, wrapped in traditional Temple shrouds, was lowered onto the pyre platform. Ahsoka, Visenya, Stella, Flare, Kayla, and even Aayla had all come to stand with Zule, offering silent support. Ashla and Cera — Zule's younger sisters — stood between them, small and fragile, eyes wide with grief and confusion.
Yoda stepped forward, leaning on his gimer stick.
"One with the Force, she is," the Grand Master said gently, "and our job it is to remember that we will, in time, also pass on. Luminous beings are we, but temporary vessels our bodies are. And we shall all find ourselves here, in time. A moment of silence, I ask — to remember, and to move on."
The chamber fell into complete silence.
Zule's hand found mine and squeezed hard. I felt fresh tears through our bond. Ashla and Cera both began crying quietly. Ahsoka placed a comforting hand on Cera's shoulder while Kayla did the same for Ashla.
The pyre ignited with a soft, controlled flame — not the wild blaze of anger, but a respectful, cleansing fire.
As Saera Xiss's body returned to the Force, I felt Zule's grief wash over me like a wave. I sent back calm and strength, reminding her through the bond that she was not alone.
After the ceremony ended, the group slowly dispersed. Ahsoka gave Zule a long hug, whispering something that made her nod. The others offered quiet words of support before leaving.
Only Zule, her sisters, and I remained.
I crouched down so I was eye-level with Ashla and Cera.
"You're safe now," I told them gently. "Both of you. No one will ever hurt you again. You have my word."
Ashla looked at me with wide, tear-filled eyes. "Are you… really going to protect us?"
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "You're family now."
Cera reached out and took Zule's hand, then looked at me. "Thank you… for saving us."
Zule pulled both girls into another embrace, fresh tears falling.
I stood back and watched them, the weight of the past weeks settling heavily on my shoulders.
We had won a battle.
But the war — and the personal scars it left — was far from over.