Zithill stooped to retrieve the discarded blaster not taking his silver eyes from this Ryder and Beryl. As he watched them a vision flashed into his mind. Beryl lying in a pool of blood, a crying child clutching her arm. Ryder standing close by his features set in grim determination as he strangled the last vestiges of life from a grey robed Jedi. He laughed darkly as the robed man grew limp in his grip.

“He is required.” The Gand spoke in a rasping hiss as he threw the blaster back to his owner. Then turning to the twins,

“If he betrays our bond I will slit his throat.”

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