**Chapter 372: The Weight of What Was Done**
**Dagon's POV**
Two hours had passed since the fleet jumped away from the smoldering ruins of Zygerria.
Some would call it the Battle of Zygerria.
Others would call it the Fall of Zygerria.
A few — those who had suffered under the yoke of the slavers — would call it liberation.
I called it necessary.
The bridge of the *Sovereign* was quiet now. The officers moved with subdued efficiency, speaking in low voices. No one met my eyes for long. Even Tarkin kept his usual sharp commentary to himself. They all knew what had happened down there. They had watched the orbital strikes. They had seen the casualty estimates.
Yoda and the Jedi Council would be furious.
Ahsoka, Kayla, Flare, Stella, and Visenya would be angry — especially Ahsoka.
But none of them were as angry as I was at myself.
Why?
Because I had known. I had known Zygerria was still active when I arrived in this galaxy. In the original timeline, it wasn't fully dealt with until the second year of the Clone Wars. Now, because of me, it had been burned to ash in the first year. The timeline had shifted violently, and I had been the one to swing the hammer.
But the real anger — the one that gnawed at my chest like a live wire — was simpler and far more personal.
I hadn't protected Zule and her family.
*You only met them recently,* the light side of me whispered. *You've known Zule for barely seven weeks.*
*Still,* the dark side answered coldly, *you could have acted. All this power — reincarnation, challenging ancient Sith lords, bending the Force to your will — and you couldn't even remember the original story well enough to save one family?*
I sat alone in my private ready room, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor. The hum of the ship's engines felt distant.
A soft chime sounded at the door.
"Master?" Zule's voice came through, quiet and hesitant. "May I come in?"
I exhaled slowly. "Yes. You can enter."
The door slid open. Zule stepped inside, still wearing the scorched and blood-stained combat tunic from the palace raid. Her purple hair was disheveled, her golden eyes red-rimmed from crying. She looked smaller than usual — fragile in a way I had rarely seen.
*Oh damn it,* I thought. *You didn't even go to comfort her, you idiot. Her mother died in her arms, and her sisters… after everything they went through…*
"Zule," I said, rising quickly. "Are your sisters alright? Are *you* alright?"
She took two steps toward me and then her legs gave out. I caught her before she hit the floor, pulling her against my chest. The moment I held her, the dam broke again. She started sobbing — deep, wrenching cries that shook her entire body.
"Why wasn't I strong enough?" she gasped between sobs. "If I had been stronger… my family would still be alive. My mother… she died right there… in front of me…"
I held her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other rubbing slow circles on her back.
"Zule… you protected your sisters. That's what mattered. You got them out. Your mother… she would have been proud knowing her final moments were spent watching you rescue them."
Zule shook her head against my chest, tears soaking through my tunic. "But Master… I used the Force lightning you taught me. I killed every Zygerrian in that room — even the Queen. And it felt *good*. Why did it feel good? That's bad… that's wrong…"
I pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, cupping her face with both hands.
"That is the dark side, Zule. It lives inside all of us. Feeling its pull doesn't mean you've fallen. It means you came back. You're still here. You're still *you*."
She swallowed hard, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "But my sisters… they saw everything. They're so young. What if they—"
"I will protect them," I said firmly. "Just like I protect you. They're safe now. They're on this ship, under the best medical care we have. You brought them back, Zule. That matters more than you know."
She clung to me again, burying her face in my neck. Her body trembled with exhaustion and grief. I held her in silence for a long time, letting her cry until the worst of it passed. Eventually her breathing evened out, though the occasional hiccuping sob still escaped.
I guided her over to the small couch and sat down with her, keeping her tucked against my side. She curled into me like she was trying to disappear into my warmth.
After several quiet minutes, she whispered, "I'm sorry I ran off earlier."
"You don't have to apologize," I replied softly. "Not for that. Not ever for wanting to save your family."
She was quiet again. Then, in a very small voice: "Master… will they hate me? My sisters? For what I did in that room?"
"No," I said without hesitation. "They won't hate you. They'll need time. They'll need help. But they're alive because of you. That's what they'll remember when the nightmares fade."
Zule nodded against my shoulder, but I could feel the doubt and guilt still churning inside her through the bond. I gently sent calm and warmth back to her — the clear blue sea I had learned to become — trying to soothe the storm.
Outside the viewport, the stars streaked by in hyperspace. We were already en route to Coruscant with over four hundred thousand freed slaves. The Senate would be in chaos. Yoda would demand answers. My girls would have questions and anger.
But right now, none of that mattered as much as the broken young woman in my arms.
I pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"Rest, Zule. I've got you. We'll face the rest together."
She didn't answer with words — just tightened her grip on my tunic and let herself finally drift toward exhausted sleep.
I stayed awake, staring at the swirling blue of hyperspace, carrying the weight of every choice that had led us here.
The dark side had whispered that I should have acted sooner.
The light side reminded me that I had acted at all.
And somewhere in the middle, I sat holding Zule, wondering how many more times I would have to burn something to the ground just to protect the people I loved.