From Flare's perspective, the past few weeks had felt like a fragile kind of peace, the sort that existed only because war had not yet reached them again. The Jedi Temple on Coruscant was always active, always filled with motion, but for her and the others, it had become something closer to a temporary home rather than a place of constant urgency. Training, recovery, reflection—those were the rhythms that defined her days while Dagon was away. And in that absence, she had come to appreciate just how much had changed since the day he first pulled her from the chaos of war.
She remembered that first week clearly. The panic. The uncertainty. The sudden realization that everything she had been taught, everything she had expected of the war, had been overturned in a matter of hours. She, Stella, and Kayla had been caught in an encounter they were not prepared for—outmatched, overwhelmed, and on the verge of being lost to something far worse than defeat. And then Dagon had arrived.
It had not been dramatic in the way stories were told in the Temple archives. There were no speeches, no drawn-out confrontations meant to inspire witnesses. It had been swift. Decisive. Absolute. He had stepped into the situation like a force of nature that refused to be denied, and within moments, the outcome had shifted entirely. They had been saved—not as an afterthought, but as a priority.
That moment had stayed with Flare ever since.
Not just because it had saved her life.
But because it had changed the trajectory of it.
Now, standing within the Temple gardens, Flare found herself surrounded by familiarity rather than fear. The others trained nearby, their movements more confident than before. Stella practiced her forms with quiet concentration, her once hesitant motions now more precise. Kayla, ever expressive, moved with a sharpness that betrayed both her natural talent and her competitive spirit. Ahsoka, in her own way, balanced between them—focused, adaptive, and always observing.
Flare adjusted her stance, raising her blade as she continued her sequence of water breathing techniques. The motions were fluid, controlled, each step flowing into the next like a current guided by unseen forces. It had taken time to master even the basics, but now her body responded instinctively, her movements aligning with the rhythm she had trained into herself.
"You're still holding back on the final transition," Kayla's voice called out, cutting through the quiet.
Flare glanced over with a faint smirk. "And you're still overextending on your third step."
Kayla grinned, clearly unbothered. "That's called confidence."
"That's called a mistake," Stella added softly without looking up from her own practice.
Kayla laughed. "You two are no fun."
Flare lowered her blade slightly, letting the moment settle into something more relaxed. These exchanges had become routine—light teasing, small corrections, shared progress. It was different from the rigid structure of standard Jedi training. Less formal. More personal. And in that space, they had all grown in ways that extended beyond combat.
Kayla stepped closer, her expression shifting into something more animated as she recalled something. "You should have seen Master Cin's face," she said, clearly amused. "He didn't expect it at all."
Flare raised an eyebrow. "You challenged him again?"
"Not challenged," Kayla corrected. "Tested."
Ahsoka, who had been quietly observing nearby, let out a small laugh. "That's one way to put it."
Kayla placed a hand on her hip. "He said I was improving. That's practically a victory."
"It is a victory," Stella said, offering a small, sincere smile.
Kayla's expression softened slightly at that, though she quickly regained her usual confidence. Among the Jedi, she had often felt the weight of assumptions placed upon her. As a Zeltron, she had grown up with others viewing her through a narrow lens, often reducing her identity to something superficial rather than recognizing her abilities. Even within the Temple, where acceptance was a core principle, respect had not always come easily.
But that had begun to change.
Partly because of her growth.
Partly because of the people around her.
And partly because Dagon had never treated her as anything less than capable.
Flare understood why that mattered.
She felt it too.
A connection that wasn't defined by expectation or limitation, but by shared experience and mutual understanding.
Her thoughts drifted briefly to Dagon himself.
He wasn't present now, but his influence remained constant. Not in an overbearing way, but in the way a strong foundation supports everything built upon it. Their training, their discipline, even their perspective on the war—it all traced back, in some form, to the path he had set them on.
Flare exhaled slowly, returning her focus to the present.
"Again," she said quietly, resetting her stance.
The others followed suit.
---
Meanwhile, Ahsoka had moved slightly apart from the group, though not entirely separate. Her presence always carried a balance between focus and observation, and today was no different. She watched Flare and Kayla exchange techniques, noting their improvements, their timing, their adjustments. There was something grounding about it—being able to train without immediate pressure, to refine skills rather than simply survive.
Still, her thoughts drifted.
Visenya had joined her nearby, the two of them sharing a quiet understanding that didn't require constant conversation. Their relationship was different—less defined by structure, more by experience and trust. Ahsoka found herself drawn to that dynamic, something outside the rigid expectations of the Jedi Code, yet not in conflict with her own sense of self.
"Your timing is improving," Visenya said calmly.
Ahsoka nodded slightly. "Yours too."
Visenya smiled faintly. "You always notice first."
Ahsoka shrugged. "It's part of the training."
But it wasn't just training.
It was connection.
Something she hadn't fully understood before joining this group.
Her attention shifted briefly toward Flare and Kayla, then back again. There was a sense of cohesion among them, even as each maintained their individuality. It wasn't uniformity—it was balance.
And that balance extended beyond the Temple.
It extended to Dagon.
The thought of him brought a subtle shift in her expression. Not concern, not exactly—but awareness. He was still out there, engaged in the war, facing situations far beyond what they experienced in controlled training environments.
Ahsoka respected that.
But she also understood that his return would mark another transition.
Their time here was temporary.
Their place on the frontlines awaited.
---
The quiet rhythm of training was interrupted by the faint buzz of activity near the Temple communications hub. Voices carried faintly across the open space, urgency beginning to replace the calm atmosphere.
"Medical personnel to the hangar immediately."
Flare's movements slowed as she caught the announcement. Her focus shifted instinctively toward the source.
"Critical injuries inbound."
The words alone were enough to change the mood entirely.
Kayla lowered her blade slightly. "That doesn't sound good."
Stella's expression tightened, concern flickering across her features. "Incoming shuttle?"
"Yes," Ahsoka confirmed, having already turned toward the direction of the landing bays. "From Naboo."
Flare felt something stir in her chest.
Naboo.
Dagon.
Her grip tightened slightly around her weapon.
"Reports are saying Jedi onboard," one of the nearby Knights mentioned as they passed by. "Possibly Master Glaive… or his apprentice."
Flare exchanged a glance with the others.
"Then something went wrong," Kayla said quietly.
Stella's voice was softer, almost hesitant. "Do you think Dagon—"
She didn't finish the sentence.
Flare didn't need her to.
She already knew what she was thinking.
"Let's go," Flare said.
---
The hangar was already in motion by the time they arrived. Medical teams rushed into position, stretchers and equipment prepared in advance. The atmosphere was tense, charged with anticipation and concern.
Flare stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the incoming shuttle as it settled onto the landing platform. The engines powered down slowly, the hum fading into silence.
For a moment, nothing moved.
Then the ramp lowered.
And what came out changed everything.
There was blood.
Not excessive, but unmistakable.
It marked the presence of something serious.
Puck emerged first, carrying Dagon.
Flare's breath caught.
His condition was immediately apparent.
One arm draped heavily over Puck's shoulder, his body supported but clearly weakened. His armor—what remained of it—was damaged, sections burned away entirely. Exposed areas of his body bore severe injuries, with scorched surfaces and visible trauma that suggested prolonged exposure to intense energy.
"Medical team—NOW!" a voice shouted.
Flare stepped forward instinctively, though she didn't move into their path. She watched as medics rushed in, stabilizing him, coordinating with precision as they prepared to move him toward bacta treatment.
For a moment, everything else faded.
The noise.
The movement.
The urgency.
All of it centered around him.
Flare's chest tightened as she took in the full extent of his condition.
This wasn't a minor engagement.
This was something far more severe.
And yet—
He had returned.
Alive.
Her gaze lingered as Puck and the medical team carefully transferred Dagon onto a stretcher. Even in his weakened state, there was a presence about him—something that didn't diminish despite injury.
Kayla stood beside Flare now, unusually quiet.
Stella too.
Ahsoka had joined them without a word.
No one spoke.
Because there was nothing to say.
They all understood what they were seeing.
Dagon Marek had faced something dangerous enough to leave him like this.
And he had still completed the mission.
Flare exhaled slowly, her emotions settling into something more complex than simple concern.
Relief.
Respect.
And something deeper.
She stepped slightly forward as the medics moved him toward the bacta chamber, her eyes never leaving him.
He had saved them before.
And now, once again—
He had returned from the brink.
Flare's expression softened slightly.
"Welcome back," she murmured under her breath.
Because whatever awaited next…
They would face it together.