Daria was a small town, smaller than Fordia, but nevertheless more leeway on the violence. In fact, the town hosted the planets only jail, but very little were in it. When Quinn dismounted her Tammbak, her first thought was,

'How in the Force am I going to find Kallan in this?'

For although it was smaller, Daria held almost twice as many people as Fordia. Quinn weaved her way through the crowd, trying desperately to find her target. Little did she know she was being watched from afar.

Quinn pushed her way past a particularly large woman, but before she could go any further, she felt a heavy hand descend on her shoulder.

"Excuse me, little one, I can't help noticing you, and thought you might be looking for someone." A gruff voice sounded over her shoulder, causing Quinn to look around.

A man stood behind her, with blonde hair cut so short it was almost impossible to see, and a small beard growing.

"Yeah," Quinn said cautiously. "I'm looking for a man named Kallan."

The man's grip tightened on her shoulder immediately. Without a word, he half-steered, half-dragged the girl through the crowd, to a small and unkempt house. Without speaking, he opened the door, threw her in, and locked it behind him. He deposited Quinn in one of two chairs, that sat at opposite ends to a small table. They were the only features in the room. Quinn might have been in an interrogation. She watched as the man strode around, locking all the windows shut. When he had finished, he returned to the table, sat in the other chair, and glared at Quinn as though she was a HoloTv show he found offensive. Finally, he spoke.

"You're her daughter."

It was a statement, not a question. Quinn nodded slowly. He stared at her for several seconds.

"He always spoke very highly of her. And you are here for Ezra Bridger."

Quinn stayed silent, waiting, hoping. Finally, he talked.

"Ezra came to me in a flurry of grief, many, many years ago. He told me everything that had happened, and settled down here. Years passed, and we all thought he might just go back to a normal life.

But then it all changed. Ezra was attacked one night. While he was out out on a walk, some people attacked him. Now, Ezra had not lost his fight, over the years, and I waste no time in saying he could have taken on any number of enemies with both hands tied behind his back. But, something happened. They did something to him."

"Not physically," he added hastily, as Quinn had opened her mouth to speak. "Whatever happened that night, no one will ever know, but it destroyed him. He came back in a blind rage."

"It was terrible to witness. He was maddened with grief, screaming the names of his friends and how they died. But when I tried to calm him down he… Struck me unconscious."

Quinn gasped, and put a hand to her mouth. She could see the rest already, but now that he had started, Kallan didn't seem to want to stop.

"And when I woke up, in the morning, he was gone. He had left everything he owned. And on the table, a piece of paper, saying… 'I'm sorry.'"

Quinn gasped again. The man looked at her with the expression of one attending a funeral, or at the deathbed of anotheSeconds passed in agony. Until, finally, Kallan spoke again.

"And that was the last I ever saw of him. He disappeared. And no trace of him was ever found. And now, all my brothers are dead."

Quinn did not ask how he knew this. She only saw, as the grotesque images of the brothers deaths flashed before her eyes. Titus Mana pulling a blaster, Rhoop falling, blood flying from his chest, and Caspian, arms splayed, eyes rolling into the back of his head…

She was interrupted by the click of a blaster.

Kallan raised his right hand from under the table. In it, he held a small, but lethal blaster pistol.

"And now, our journeys together are at an end. Goodbye, Quinn."

Before she could scream, before she could say anything or do anything, the man raised the blaster and pointed it, not at the teenaged rebel, but placed it under his own chin.

There was a loud BANG.

A red light momentarily filled the small room, and the man's head shot backwards, lolling pathetically over the back of the chair, blood trickling down his throat.