**Chapter 740: Fractured Minds**
**Scene 1: Jedi Temple, Coruscant – Arrival Platform**
The shuttle touched down in the greatly expanded Temple hangar. Rows of TIE lines and X-wings stood in neat formation alongside a light cruiser and several CR90 corvettes. Dagon Marek stepped off the ramp with Miaria Prrt at his side, her tail casually wrapped around his neck in a possessive yet affectionate gesture.
*So let's get this right,* Dagon thought as they walked. *With Miaria at my side, I now have full proof that the Mind Prison works as intended. All that's left is to access the girls and fix them. Easy, right?*
"Probably," Miaria purred, clearly reading the surface of his thoughts. Her tail tightened playfully. "But are we just fixing your harem? Or the Sith girls and the rescued Jedi as well? They are females, after all. Prime candidates for the harem."
Dagon glanced down at her with a raised eyebrow. "You're a little feisty today. What's the matter?"
They reached the main corridor leading deeper into the Temple. Miaria's ears flicked. "Oh, right. The fact that my interview with the reporters has already reached here. Especially the footage of you and me… and that dance."
Dagon winced internally. *Right. That dance.* The reporters had called it the "Royal Dance," but it had actually been a traditional Felacatian courting ritual. One that was supposedly impossible to perform correctly without years of training. The fact that he had matched Miaria perfectly on the first try had caused a cultural sensation back on Felacat.
**Scene 2: Jedi Council Chamber**
The Council Chamber was tense. Obi-Wan Kenobi looked as though he had aged ten years in a few short weeks. Cin Drallig stood with his arms crossed, while Nhon Artu observed quietly from the side.
"Well, this is considered extreme even for you," Obi-Wan said, rubbing his beard wearily.
"It's good, right?" Dagon replied calmly, mask back in place. "It may solve many problems. We need allies, not broken enemies."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "Adi Gallia and Barriss Offee are one thing. Saving their mental health after what happened on Geonosis is justifiable. But Aubrie Wren? The one responsible for much of the Geonosis Cataclysm?"
"She was captured and forgotten on a failed Jedi Council mission," Dagon said firmly. "The public and most of the military have no knowledge of her direct involvement. Only the High Council does. She deserves a chance at redemption and freedom."
Cin Drallig's expression darkened. "And what about Darth Atroxa? And the girl you call Darth Talon? One in a million Twi'leks have red skin. Those two Lethan Sith are covered in Sith tattoos. Bringing them into the fold will cause a lot of trouble."
Dagon's masked gaze didn't waver. "We already have nearly three hundred rescued children with similar appearances living peacefully in the Temple. They aren't causing trouble. Why should these two be any different once properly healed?"
The room fell into heavy silence.
**Scene 3: Private Meditation Chamber**
Eventually, the Council — however reluctantly — agreed. It wasn't as if they could stop him. He was the Grand Master. But Dagon suspected part of their acquiescence was to soothe his own conscience.
"Who should we do first?" Miaria asked, standing close beside him in the shielded meditation chamber deep within the Temple.
"We will start with Darth Atroxa," Dagon decided. "She is a Sith Lord from the Great Galactic War nearly four thousand years ago. I want to know what really happened during that era."
He raised his hand, focusing his will. The air in the chamber grew heavy as the Mind Prison technique activated. A shimmering blue field enveloped the preserved stasis pod containing the ancient Sith Lord. Atroxa's red-skinned form floated within, preserved through dark rituals and Dagon's own interventions.
Miaria watched with keen interest, her tail swaying. "A four-thousand-year-old Sith… This should be educational."
Dagon nodded, stepping closer to the pod. "Stay with me. I may need your perspective once we enter her mind. She will fight harder than you did."
The Mind Prison fully manifested — a vast, timeless realm where centuries could pass in moments. Dagon and Miaria's consciousnesses plunged into the ancient Sith's fractured psyche.
Inside the prison, a stormy battlefield from a long-forgotten war stretched before them. Darth Atroxa stood tall and imperious, twin crimson lightsabers ignited, her Lethan skin marked with intricate Sith tattoos that seemed to writhe with dark energy.
"You dare enter my mind, Dragon?" Atroxa snarled, voice echoing with ancient malice. "I will tear your soul apart!"
Dagon ignited his own saber, the blade humming with controlled power. "We're here to offer you a choice, Atroxa. A chance to move beyond the endless cycle of Sith betrayal and destruction. But first… show me what happened four thousand years ago."
Miaria stood at his side, claws extended and partially beastified, ready for the mental battle to come. "This one looks feisty. I like her already."
Dagon allowed a small, grim smile beneath the mask as the ancient Sith charged.
The healing — and the revelations — had begun.