**Chapter 362: Echoes of Home**
**Scene 1 – Zule's Dream**
White.
Everything was white — blinding, sterile, and cold.
*Where am I?* Zule thought. *I was just onboard the Sovereign…*
"Zule."
The voice was painfully familiar. Soft. Loving. Broken.
"Who…?"
"Zule… my daughter."
She turned. There, standing in the endless white, was her mother — Lyla, a Zeltron with vibrant pink skin and flowing blue hair. But something was wrong. Lyla's eyes were hollow, her skin pale and cracked like old porcelain. Behind her, shadows moved — indistinct figures reaching out with skeletal hands.
"Mother… what happened?"
Lyla stepped closer, tears streaking down her face. "Why did you leave us?"
"I… I didn't—"
"Why did you leave us?" The voice multiplied, echoing from every direction. Undead figures began to swarm out of the whiteness — rotting hands, empty eyes, mouths open in silent screams. They reached for Zule, clawing at her robes, dragging her down.
She tried to ignite her lightsaber. Nothing happened. She reached for the Force. It slipped through her fingers like smoke.
"No… no!"
The horde closed in.
"Zule! Wake up!"
**Scene 2**
Zule jolted awake with a gasp, heart hammering against her ribs. She was in Dagon's bed aboard the *Sovereign*, sheets tangled around her bare body. Dagon was already sitting up, one hand on her shoulder, his presence in the Force warm and steady — a clear blue sea pulling her back from the storm.
"Zule, you okay?" he asked, voice low and concerned.
"I… think so." She rubbed her face, trying to shake off the lingering dread. "Just some bad dreams."
Dagon studied her for a long moment. "I felt pain and intense suffering from you through the bond. That's why I used it to pull you out."
Zule looked away, cheeks flushing slightly. She was still naked, the ring on her finger glinting in the low cabin lights — a quiet reminder of how far beyond traditional Jedi rules they had gone.
"It's nothing. Just… my mother. I saw her suffering. Dying. There were so many people around me, reaching out. I couldn't help them. I couldn't even move."
Dagon was quiet for a moment, then gently tilted her chin so she would meet his eyes.
"Zule."
"What?"
"Padawan, as your teacher I should at least know what is bothering you."
She sighed, shoulders slumping. "Fine. It's about my mother. The dream felt… too real."
"Hmm. When we get to Falleen, we will visit your mother."
"Huh? Why?"
"It may be nothing, but like Nox once said — when the Force gives you visions in your dreams, it's best to stay on the side of caution."
Zule blinked. "Are you sure? Master Glaive always said attachments are dangerous. That's why no youngling was allowed to return to their families to visit."
Dagon gestured between them — first to the kyber-beskar ring on her finger, then to the fact that she was completely naked and pressed against him in his bed.
"I think we're a little too deep into attachments to start worrying about that rule now."
Zule's lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "Oh… right."
He pulled her close again, kissing her forehead. "Get some real rest. We'll face whatever is waiting on Falleen together."
**Scene 3**
"Sir, we have arrived," Grand Captain Tarkin announced from the bridge of the *Sovereign*.
The small Falleen battle group was already in position when the squadron dropped out of hyperspace. Five Venator-class Star Destroyers, eight Consular-class light cruisers, and four Acclamator-class assault ships formed a defensive screen above the emerald-green world. They were commanded by a mixed Jedi contingent:
- Jedi Knight Lobis Lobin
- Jedi Knight Kydra
- Jedi Knight Tafasheel Arkan
Tarkin studied the formation with a critical eye. "A modest force. Adequate for defense, but vulnerable if the Confederacy commits serious resources."
I nodded. "Tarkin, you and Pellaeon have command of the fleet. Prepare a squadron of MAAT gunships. We're going to the surface to get a proper understanding of the situation."
'The CIS attack hasn't happened yet, but from what I remember of my… other knowledge, this was partly an inside job. Best to find out who's pulling strings before the shooting starts.'
"Yes, sir."
"Zule, come along."
"Yes, Master."
The two of us boarded one of the lead gunships with a full platoon of clones and a squad of Antarian Rangers for support. As the MAATs screamed down through Falleen's atmosphere, the lush, forested planet unfolded beneath us — towering spires of native flora, glittering rivers, and the elegant, organic architecture of Falleen cities nestled among the trees.
Zule sat beside me, unusually quiet. Her hand rested lightly on my thigh, a small point of contact that spoke volumes. The dream still lingered behind her golden eyes.
I squeezed her hand once. "Whatever we find down there… we face it together."
She nodded, grip tightening. "Together."
The gunships descended toward the planetary capital, where local Falleen officials and the small Jedi contingent were already waiting. Tension hung thick in the air — the kind that came right before a storm.
Falleen was beautiful.
But beauty, in wartime, often hid the sharpest teeth.