Eight bodies, five of them Human, the other three all of separate species: an Aleena, a Nikto and tall broad being looking strikingly similar to a Tarro. These were probably the Jedi that had gathered here, judging from the equal number of lightsabers that lied scattered around and held in the lifeless hands of some. So, like Atris’ long-ago gathering on Katarr, so has Shadday Potkin’s conclave on Kessel ended in disaster… The man’s torn clothing did not do much to conceal the burns and wounds that covered nearly his entire body. Seemingly unaffected by his many injuries he slowly wandered around the chamber, his eyes turning to each of the Jedi as he passed them. He stopped, looking down at one of the fallen, a dark-skinned man in red armour, and knelt down. A small sword had pierced this man’s chest, the severed black glove-covered hand of its last wielder still grasping the weapon’s hilt. Whose was this? The man looked around. None seemed to have lost a hand, save from the woman lying in the centre of the chamber, and hers was lying near her. No, this hand belonged to a ninth person, no doubt the one responsible for the carnage that had taken place here, probably long gone by now.
He took another good look around, this time stopping halfway, his gaze falling on a lightsaber, sticking from under a pile of rubble a few meters away. The man stretched his arm towards the weapon, lifting it from the ground and within a second pulling it to his hand. One look at it was all he needed. This was definitely hers. His head turned. Immediately he saw the woman on the other side of the room, lying on her side, the black burn hole through her stomach clearly visible. Within a few steps he had reached her and placed her on her back. She seemed peaceful enough at first glance, but from the look on her face the pain she had been through was clear. The last moments following the death blow had passed quickly, yet during those last moments she had fought with all strength she had left to stay alive. Was it the strain of that last fight that had caused her to be in such pain? Or, was it the realization, just before she passed away, that she had lost the fight, and with it that of another? “A bit sooner and it didn’t have to be like this. I’m sorry, Bultar.” There was something strange about his voice, as if there were more than one speaking at the same time. “It’s probably a good thing Vhiran isn’t here to see you now. No doubt it would have broken him.” He rose to his feet, carefully lifting up her body. “Now, there is one more thing for me to do for you. But before that, I’ll have to go look for Shamila first. I can’t just leave her to rot here on this rock.” With a faint smile he looked at the woman in his arms. “Please be patient for a little longer.” He then turned around and headed for the exit.