(Thread follows after Seventy Times Seven)
Victory cheers echoed off the temple's walls. The Jedi had triumphed and protected their home, driving the Sith away. Their shuttles, dropships, and warships shot through the air one by one, leaving Yavin IV in the hands of the Jedi. It was a victory they desperately needed after all of their losses, especially after Ajan Kloss.
And yet, in the triage area, that same triumphant and victorious cheer fell on deaf ears.
Within and around the zones lay the bodies of Gammoreans who fought for the lives of the wounded and younglings, as well as troopers who were killed by said Gammoreans, all in pure silence. Dust particles from broken barriers and shattered ornaments swirled through the air, settling on top of the bodies on the ground.
And those younglings the Gammoreans had fought for? Many of them had disappeared, and the survivors fled in fear.
The commlinks began to light up and receive chatter, with people congratulating each other on their successes and summoning everyone back to their stations. However, no one would reply. A long pointy ear, close to the entrance of one of the few zones in the triage area, twitched at the sound of a nearby commlink. It was followed by a movement of a few fingers, as if reaching for the commlink, only for the hand to sink back into a puddle of blood from a little boy's body.
The half-Sephi had no idea how long it had been. It felt like a lifetime had gone between witnessing the younglings being dragged away and hearing the Jedi cheer, and yet also mere seconds. It wasn't all horrible, though; she felt the Lightside of the Force, her home, flood over her like a warm blanket, shielding her as she slid between states of consciousness. She'd feel strangely at ease if it weren't for the scorching ache in her chest, which intensified with each shallow breath she drew.