It was now a race against time. Kresh Ryone was still in a closet in one of the rooms in the Jedi Temple. He knew that the clones were here; he could hear the screams of his brothers and sisters from his hiding place. He had sensed it as well. Something hadn't been right, and when he had seen the slightest bit of blue and white armor, even though the clones served under the Jedi, he had known well enough to dive into the nearest closet and hide under a few old robes. He had pulled an old youngling training helmet over his head so that he could blend in with the assortment of equipment on the floor with more ease. It was all almost too much for a twelve year old boy to comprehend. The clones still had a lot of the temple to search. It had only been a half an hour since they had arrived, and even though there were hundreds of thousands of clones storming the temple it was quite large, and there were more than just a few Jedi in the temple. Even a small group would slow them down. But now, it was in fact a race against time, and Kresh knew that he couldn't just hide. He was paralyzed with fear. What would a Jedi do? He asked himself that question when he was afraid, when he was doubtful. He knew well enough not to dive out of the closet making a big scene. He lifted his left hand and searched for the control pad. Use the Force. His hand hit the hard metal outer boarder. There! His finger hit the control panel, and the closet hissed open. He looked into the closet looking for a disguise so that he could escape the temple. He sifted through the cloths in the closet as quickly as he could. He found a smuggler disguise at the back of the closet, complete with boots. He quickly changed into it and he suddenly remembered that this was his master's closet, and these clothes would be too big for him, but this was desperate. He pulled on the disguise, and shoved the toes of the boots with a tunic that he cut up with a shard of glass that was in the back of the closet. He looked at himself in one of the mirrors. He looked the part, except for his padawan braid that hung down his right shoulder. He couldn't just leave it there. Taking the shard of glass, he winced and sliced it off, and it fell to the floor. He recovered his lightsaber from the ground and put it into one of the pouches on his new belt. He was ready to escape, but how? There was a window. He could jump out of it using the Force. That would be too risky. It would give away that he was a Jedi Padawan. What would he do?
The temple was burning right before his eyes. Kresh had scaled the side of the temple using his bare hands. A group of clones approached him looking robotic and haunted, as if they had been possessed by some mysterious force. The commander of the group barked, "Move boy!", at Kresh. He began to run, picking up an abandoned blaster from a clone that had fallen in the line of duty and fastened it to his belt. Where to now? He looked back at the temple that was aflame, and then at the dark void of Coruscant that lie ahead, lit by the flicker of light that airspeeders and city buildings gave off. He didn't know where to go. He had nowhere to go. He turned toward the city. This was where he had to go. He raised his head and walked onto one of the walkways that was bustling with people. He was ready to run, ready to hide. He was ready to blend in, and he would go to any length to hide from war and from pain. This was the near end of the Jedi, and though there was so much at stake, so many Jedi lost, and so many Jedi that could be lost, what other option did he have? This was his new life. He knew that now he would have to let the past die and kill it if he had to.