**Chapter 364: Ghosts of the Marshlands**
**Dagon's POV**
The southern marshlands of Falleen were beautiful in a wild, untamed way — thick curtains of hanging vines, bioluminescent flowers glowing softly even in daylight, and the constant low hum of insects and distant waterfalls. But the small village Zule had once called home was mostly abandoned.
Empty huts with sagging roofs, overgrown paths, and silence where children's laughter should have been. Most families had left years ago for work in the factories and cities, chasing the industrial boom that had swept the planet. Zule's family had been no exception.
She took it hard.
Her father had fallen deep into debt and died young, leaving her mother, Saera Xiss, and two younger sisters she had never known about to fend for themselves. They had joined a group heading to the capital, hoping for better prospects. The realization hit Zule like a physical blow. She walked through the empty village in silence, touching the weathered doorframe of what had once been her childhood home, golden eyes distant and pained.
I stayed close but gave her space. Some wounds needed air before they could be touched.
**Scene 1**
Later that afternoon, in the bustling markets of the nearest city, frustration gnawed at Zule as she wandered aimlessly through the crowded streets. Lost in thought, she didn't notice the woman in front of her until they collided.
A basket tumbled to the ground, spilling fresh bread and vegetables across the cobblestones.
"I'm terribly sorry, my lady," Zule said quickly, crouching to gather the scattered goods.
The woman knelt beside her with a soft, warm laugh. "No harm done, Jedi. Though you do owe me a new piece of bread — it's been flattened beyond saving."
Zule looked up and met curious brown eyes. The woman was middle-aged, with lines of hardship etched into a kind face. "I'll replace the bread," Zule promised, offering a sheepish smile.
The woman waved her off. "Nonsense. But you're polite for a Jedi — or whatever you are. You have beautiful grey eyes, though your Padawan…" She glanced at me briefly before focusing on Zule again. "She reminds me of someone I once knew."
Zule straightened, handing back the basket. "Do I? Who might that be?"
The woman tilted her head, scrutinizing her. "A friend of mine. Come to my home, and I'll tell you about her. It's not far, and I owe you a proper thank-you."
The woman's name was Matilda, a widow who lived in a modest cottage tucked away in a quieter district. She ushered Zule inside and set the basket on the table before disappearing into the kitchen. When she returned, she carried a tray of fresh bread, cheese, and hearty stew.
"Eat," she insisted, sitting across from her. "We can talk after you've had a proper meal."
Zule didn't argue. The food was simple but comforting, and Matilda's genuine hospitality eased some of the sharp disappointment still lingering in her chest.
When the dishes were cleared, Matilda opened a worn steel trunk at the foot of her bed. "This," she said, running a hand over the lid, "belonged to my dearest friend, Saera Xiss."
Zule's breath caught. "My mother… where is she?"
Matilda's expression grew sorrowful as she pulled out a bundle of old belongings. "She was taken to a pleasure house with her two daughters. Saera came here years ago, alone and with little more than her sewing skills and wild spirit. She was the sweetest soul, but life wasn't kind to her."
Matilda unfolded a hand-drawn sketch, revealing a striking woman with long dark hair and hauntingly familiar golden eyes. "She looked like this. Your eyes are hers, and the shape of your nose too."
Zule took the sketch with trembling hands. For a long moment she could only stare at the image, the faintest, bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. Could this really be her mother?
**Scene 2 – Zule's POV**
"We are going to find her," Dagon said firmly as we left Matilda's cottage.
"Damn them," I whispered, fists clenched at my sides.
"Zule."
"Damn the Jedi. Damn the Republic. My mother… my sisters… they were supposed to protect them! Why was it all—"
My fingers started to glow with crackling blue energy. I could feel the darkness rising inside me — hot, electric, hungry. The Force answered my anger too easily now.
Dagon stepped in front of me, placing both hands on my shoulders. His presence washed over me like a clear, cooling sea.
"Zule. Don't worry. We will find them."
The lightning faded from my fingertips, but the ache in my chest remained.
**Scene 3**
"This is a Republic patrol under the command of Jedi General Dagon Marek. This house is being investigated," Puck announced loudly as our team approached the discreet pleasure house on the outskirts of the city.
We had tracked the leads quickly. The building looked respectable from the outside — elegant architecture, soft lighting — but the moment we stepped inside, the truth became clear.
"Now, we can do this the hard way or the easy way," I said calmly to the nervous owner and his guards. "Since slavery is illegal on Falleen, I am willing to make it simple. Tell us what we want to know and live."
One of the enforcers sneered. "Look here, Jedi — we are under protection. You can't just—"
He was cut off mid-sentence as Ethan crushed his skull with a single, brutal strike from a vibro-knuckle.
"Any more wrong answers?" I asked mildly.
One hour later, the local authorities arrived to find thirty-five arrests already made and over sixty civilians — mostly women and girls — freed from the upper floors.
The police captain approached us, looking pale. "The ones you were looking for… the three females matching the description… they were sold. A transport left for Zygerria a year ago."
"What?!" Zule shouted, voice cracking with raw pain and fury.
"Zule, wait—"
She ran off before I could stop her, disappearing into the crowded streets.
I turned to Ethan and Puck. "Secure the rest of the prisoners. I'll go after her."
The hunt for Zule's family had just become far more dangerous — and far more personal.
Falleen's shadows were deeper than they first appeared.