**Chapter 521**
**New Faces and Old Flames**
**Scene 1**
**Jedi Temple – Private Conference Room**
**Aayla POV**
The private conference room in the Jedi Temple was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of robes and the soft hum of the ventilation system. Aayla Secura sat on the edge of a low couch, watching as Shin Wren dramatically slammed her face into a pillow.
"Why did you have to stand up to the Council and the head of the Republic army and humiliate them in front of various officers?" Shin complained, her voice muffled by the fabric. "The Jedi are currently sucking in the war effort — that's what they're all thinking now!"
Dagon leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking remarkably unbothered. "Because it's the truth. While I understand the need to win the war, if I want to become Jedi Lord, the Council needs to see me in a different light — not as some reckless general, but as someone who actually understands what we're facing."
Aayla raised an eyebrow. "You made excellent points, though. Apart from diplomatic approaches, the Jedi have limited experience in this kind of warfare. You have experience from a lifetime of war against Skynet, plus various Sith holocrons and the Mind Prison. But still… you could have been more diplomatic."
Dagon shrugged. "I sent most of the experienced Jedi Masters to Mygeeto. When I attacked and conquered Muunilinst, I destroyed Mygeeto's orbital blockade. Though it might have been reinforced by now, the Jedi have the numbers and experience. Aayla, could you honestly tell me that the Masters will fail?"
Aayla sighed, leaning back. "I don't like that you make excellent points. And while you're right — the list includes nearly fifty Knights, including the legendary Immortal Master Fay and various unorthodox Knights, Masters, and Jedi Aces heading to Mygeeto — I know for a fact you're stronger than all of them combined."
Shin lifted her head from the pillow, cheeks slightly flushed. "That's not the point. The Council already sees you as dangerous. You challenged their strategy in front of officers. Windu looked ready to duel you on the spot."
Dagon chuckled. "Windu always looks like that. But the plan I proposed is better. Felucia for us, Mygeeto for the others. It's a diversion. Dooku, Grievous, and Ventress will come for me. While they're distracted, the Republic takes the real prize."
Aayla shook her head, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "You really do enjoy poking the hornet's nest, don't you?"
"Only when it's necessary," Dagon replied, his red-star eye glinting. "The war isn't going to wait for perfect diplomacy."
**Scene 2**
**Jedi Temple – Temple Walkway**
**Dagon POV**
The sun was setting over Coruscant, painting the Temple spires in hues of gold and crimson. I walked the wide outer walkway with the girls, the cool evening breeze carrying the distant hum of speeder traffic far below.
New faces were joining us.
Kass Tod, an 18-year-old female Zabrak Padawan, had been assigned to Jedi Knight Flare. She carried herself with quiet intensity, her short horns catching the light.
Mack Lotor, a 17-year-old human Padawan, had been assigned to Stella. He seemed earnest, if a bit nervous.
Finn Ertay, a 16-year-old green-skinned Twi'lek girl, had been assigned to Kayla. *A Zeltron and a Twi'lek,* I thought with amusement. *That should be interesting.*
Lakas, a 15-year-old female Mikkian with soft pink skin, had been assigned to Master Shin Wren as her second Padawan. She looked up at Shin with wide-eyed admiration.
I also received word that we were being joined by twin Jedi Knights for the 12th Sector:
Tiplee and Tiplar — red-skinned and yellow-skinned Mikkian females, both 27 years old. Along with them was Clone Commander Doom, in charge of the 390th Scout Legion. The advantage was that Doom had undergone ARC training similar to the Alpha-class troopers. An additional six Venators and twelve Arquitens-class light cruisers would join my forces.
I couldn't help but reflect on how much the timeline had shifted. Master Fay and her odd set of Jedi were still alive — probably because I had killed Durge and Ventress early, and my actions at Ohma-D'un had prevented certain investigations. The original Padawan Pack was largely intact, though Master Glaive was dead and Zule had become mine. Buck Sirrus and Ahsoka's friend Ahsoka… wait, Aubrey Wrin and others had still fallen, but many more had survived.
*Perhaps it was a cosmic joke,* I thought. *To teach a lesson or a riddle.*
"Man, this is confusing," I sighed aloud.
Suddenly, I was pushed into a small supply room off the walkway. The door hissed shut behind us.
"What is confusing, Master?" Zule asked, her voice sultry and low.
Of course. Recently, her skin had shifted color from orange to a pinkish dark red — a clear sign, according to the med droid, that her body had fully accepted me as her mate. It didn't necessarily mean I could get her pregnant yet, but it was another way of saying "true love" through the bond.
*Oh well,* I thought as she pressed against me. *At least this closet is private.*
Zule's lips met mine in a hungry kiss. Her hands slid under my tunic, nails lightly grazing my skin as she pushed me back against the shelves. I responded in kind, one hand tangling in her purple hair while the other gripped her hip, pulling her closer.
The kiss deepened quickly — tongues dancing, breaths mingling, soft moans escaping as our bodies pressed together. Zule's skin was warm, almost feverish, and I could feel the bond flare between us, emotions and sensations flowing freely.
She broke the kiss just enough to whisper against my lips, "I've wanted this since the bridge… you looked so commanding…"
I chuckled softly, kissing along her jaw. "You're insatiable."
"Only for you," she breathed, nipping at my neck. Her hands worked at my belt as I slid hers open, fingers tracing the sensitive skin beneath.
We didn't have long — the others would notice soon — but we made the most of the stolen moment. Deep, passionate kisses, roaming hands, whispered words of love and desire. When we finally stepped out, flushed and slightly disheveled, Zule wore a satisfied smirk.
The war waited.
But so did love.