The young Anzati and the young Nautolan had very little in common. They were both Jedi younglings, but one was an amphibian while the other was quite terrestrial. Zak, the green skinned boy with his large, solid black eyes, was the clan's best swordsman. SJ, on the other hand, with his human features, was the better at Force manipulation. One might grow up to be a great Jedi, the other was destined to become a great monster -- with hope that Jedi training might allow him to off-set his predatory nature.

With all their differences, they were friends. Now, they seemed more than that, clinging to one another for emotional support as the two boys trailed alongside and behind the Vahla padawan. The images of what they saw were reflected in their eyes. Bodies, propped up against the wall, lying prone on the floor, many missing parts or limbs or with terrible wounds that left no question as to their death. The smell of death choked their nostrils, sickening as it hung in the air. The sounds of the dying echoed through the halls.

If there was a hell, then surely they had found it.

As he overheard the Temple Guards arguing, new tears slipped down his face for the realization that they were leaving those not yet dead to die here, alone. It didn't seem right. It didn't seem Jedi. But, for all he had witnessed, Sor-Jan wasn't certain he knew what a Jedi was anymore. He had seen bravery, courage... and a savageness that had been too real, too primal.

He was scared and confused. All he could think of now was that he wanted to leave this place.