**Chapter 717: New Threads of Family**
**Scene 1: Jedi Temple – Healing Center**
The soft hum of medical monitors filled the private wing of the Jedi Temple's Healing Center. Sunlight filtered through reinforced transparisteel windows, casting gentle patterns across sterile white floors. Dagon Marek stood motionless beside a single bacta tank, his durasteel mask hiding the scarred ruin of his face. The burns from the brainwashed girls' Force lightning still ached beneath the metal, a constant reminder of Geonosis.
Inside the tank floated Ari Astra — the Chiss clone they had recovered from the Prophets of the Dark Side's shattered facilities. Her skin was a striking pure blue, deeper and richer than Thrawn's aquamarine tone. It carried the dark royal hue of ancient Chiss nobility, unmarred by the stresses of a long life. Tubes and neural interfaces connected to her temples, feeding her body nutrients while her mind remained blank — a wiped slate, engineered for short-term use as a living weapon.
*Yeah, probably best if the Chiss clone is unthawed and finished up,* Dagon thought, arms crossed over his Wrath Shield armor. *Her mind is blank. Might as well help fill it with something better than chains.*
He reached out through the Force, gently probing the surface of her consciousness. The Prophets had designed her as disposable — a few weeks of operational life at most before neural degradation set in. But her body had healed remarkably well under the Temple's care. Only time would reveal her true natural lifespan.
"Time to see what's inside," Dagon murmured, his masked voice a low metallic rasp. He placed a gloved hand on the tank and slipped fully into her mindscape.
**Scene 2: Ari Astra's Mindscape**
The world inside Ari Astra's mind was a vast, sterile white void. No memories. No landscapes. Only faint echoes of pain and mechanical whirring lingered at the edges like ghosts. In the center of the emptiness stood a small figure — a little blue girl, no older than eight, with glowing red eyes and messy dark hair. She clutched a broken training remote like a security blanket.
The girl looked up as Dagon manifested in the mindscape, his armored form towering yet somehow less intimidating here.
"Huh. Empty figures for a clone," Dagon observed quietly. "Made to last only a few weeks. Good thing your body is healed now."
The child version of Ari tilted her head. "They got their weapon. I got cheated out of my childhood." Her voice was small but carried surprising weight.
"I know what that's like," Dagon replied softly, kneeling to her level.
"You do, don't you?" The girl smiled sadly. "You don't have to answer. I've already read your mind."
Dagon remained silent, letting her see fragments — the otherworldly memories, the lost childhood, the endless training, the rage that forged him into the Dragon.
"They'd strap me into their machines," the little girl continued, voice trembling. "Poke wires into my brain. Make me faster. Stronger. Meaner."
"The Prophets did that," Dagon said, his tone darkening. "They are dead now. The last of them. I came here because of what they did to you."
"To help me," she whispered. "Yes… I was the only one able to be saved. Because I was stronger." The kindness in Dagon's presence seemed to resonate within her. The small girl's form shimmered, growing and shifting until she stood as an adult — tall, regal, with the same deep royal blue skin and piercing red eyes. Ari Astra in her true potential form.
"The Temple has people who can help you," Dagon said, offering a small smile beneath the mask. "You could start over. A peaceful world. A real life."
Ari's expression hardened. "It's too late. I'm just a weapon. Made for—"
Dagon flicked her forehead with a precise finger, the gesture surprisingly gentle. The adult Chiss blinked in surprise.
"Really? Save the speeches," Dagon said firmly. "Everyone in the galaxy got a crappy life. Some worse than others — like you. But why worry about what they made you for? You could start anew. A family. Friends. Purpose beyond killing."
Ari stared at him for a long moment, the void around them beginning to fill with faint colors — hints of green fields, warm sunlight, laughter. The first cracks in her blank mindscape.
"I… don't know how," she admitted quietly.
"Then learn," Dagon replied. "I did. The hard way. You won't have to."
He withdrew from the mindscape, leaving her with that single seed of possibility.
**Scene 3: Adoption**
Ari Astra stepped out of the bacta tank on shaky legs an hour later, wrapped in simple white robes. Medical droids hovered nearby, but Dagon waved them off. The Chiss woman moved with cautious grace, red eyes scanning her new surroundings with wary intelligence.
Dagon led her through the Healing Center corridors toward the residential wing reserved for the Order's youngest members and rescued Force-sensitives. Two small Falleen girls waited eagerly in a sunlit common room — Ashla and Cera, Zule's rescued younger sisters. Dagon had formally adopted them months ago, giving them stability amid the chaos of war.
"Ashla, Cera," Dagon called, his distorted voice warm despite the mask. "Come meet your new sister."
The two Falleen girls bounded forward with unrestrained excitement. Ashla, the older of the pair at ten years old, offered a bright green-scaled smile. Cera, younger and shyer, clutched a small plush tooka doll but still waved enthusiastically.
"Hi!" Ashla said, grabbing Ari's hand without hesitation. "You're really blue! Like the sky at dusk. I'm Ashla. This is Cera. Master Dagon says you're family now."
Cera nodded vigorously. "We have cookies. And stories. Do you like stories?"
Ari Astra stood frozen for a moment, overwhelmed. Her red eyes flicked to Dagon, who gave a subtle nod of encouragement. Slowly, the corners of her mouth lifted in the first genuine smile of her short existence.
"Yeah… I think I might," she replied softly.
Dagon watched the three interact — the blue Chiss woman carefully lowering herself to sit with the two green Falleen girls. Ashla immediately began chattering about Temple lessons while Cera offered her the plush tooka for comfort.
*Yeah, adoption is the best way for this,* Dagon thought, a quiet satisfaction settling in his chest. *It makes it easier. At least for now.*
In a galaxy tearing itself apart, with *Spear of Light* looming and the war darkening by the day, small acts of creation mattered. The Dragon of the Republic had built fleets, superweapons, and alliances. But forging a family — piece by broken piece — felt like the most defiant rebellion of all against the Sith and their endless cycles of pain.
He turned away, leaving the girls to bond, but not before sending a gentle pulse through the still-closed soul bond to Ahsoka, Zule, and the others.
*We're growing stronger. Not just in war.*
Outside the Temple, Coruscant thrummed with preparations. In two months, the Confederacy would strike the Core. But here, in this quiet corner, a new life had begun — one that the Prophets of the Dark Side could never have predicted.