The Temple had seen better days. To be fair, so had the whole of Dantooine. Some of its older inhabitants likely remembered a time before the planet descended into a state of lawlessness. Before the arrival of interstellar crime syndicates, rogue Sith cultists, and all manner of cutthroats that only saw a planet ready to be despoiled. A planet like Dantooine was flush with sprawling forests home to millions of creatures. The Jedi saw it for its beauty. An organization like the Black Sun saw it as something to be harvested, to suck it dry of its resources until it resembled a lifeless rock. Planets in the Outer Rim were the first to suffer. The Core Worlds fell under the protection of large-scale galactic governments. The Mid Rim enjoyed Order brought about by an amalgamation of smaller powers, both good and bad, that saw the opportunity presented before them. A chance to gobble up territory. To grow, to become a major player in the great galactic game right before it was ready to truly begin. Before Pietas Station, the galaxy knew hope. But peace, much like glass, was easy to shatter and much more difficult to fix. Corin couldn't help but scowl at the sight of the Temple. It resembled everything else in the galaxy. In need of repair, plundered for all it was worth and forgotten by those who once marveled at its beauty. Dust covered every surface. Chunks of masonry were piled up in the corner, likely by the first waves of looters. With nothing left to take, those who came next could only take out their life's frustrations on what was directly in reach. This place. A home. Somewhere to learn, to grow. "This won't do," he muttered. He strode through the halls, nudging aside bits of rubble as he went. Thin beams of light pierced a makeshift wall forged of larger chunks of stone. Two bodies lay across from one another, neither moving. A quick glance told the Sentinel all he needed to know. They were dead men, together in their final moments. Terribly scarred flesh and black marking across one's skull showed a clean kill, one brought about by themselves. The other had a similar wound right between the eyes. "Mercy killing, maybe?" Corin mused. "Followed by a suicide?" His gaze shifted from the bodies to the crumbling wall. The stones were fitted together well, likely by someone who knew what they were doing. Someone with military experience. "What were you two hiding from?" he asked aloud. Neither of the bodies answered. No surprise there. He sighed and thrust his hand out towards the wall. A powerful wave of telekinetic energy slammed into it, blowing it apart in the blink of an eye. Dust exploded into the air and rained down for nearly a minute. Corin covered his mouth and nose before marching out into the Temple courtyard. When the dust finally settled, he could practically feel his jaw hit the floor. "By the Force..." Dozens of bodies littered the courtyard, and unlike the last two, their corpses were anything but clean. Limbs were scattered about the clearing. Most of the bodies looked like wild beasts had been feeding on them for days by the spread of innards and entrails, but the wounds didn't match up. They were too clean. Too precise. "Of all the times to come home..." he murmured. A few days later... Thirty-two mounds of dirt lined the field outside of the Temple. Small markers were hammered into the dirt at the head of each grave. Some were marked with names scavenged from personal effects found on the bodies. Most of them lacked any identifying markers. Corin stared silently for what felt like hours at the makeshift cemetery he'd constructed. Fortunately, he didn't know any of the deceased, but it didn't make it easier to bury Jedi. Especially the young ones. Those who couldn't have defended themselves from whatever slaughtered the temple's inhabitants. Days of work and it was only the beginning. He needed answers, but more importantly, he needed to warn the others. People like him. That's why he put out the call. He found his way back to the courtyard and returned the shovel to a maintenance closet adjacent to what used to be a garden. Weeds had consumed whatever beauty it once held. He shook his head and took a seat against the wall, eyes on the skies. They would come. He hoped.