He felt sick...but not in a poisoned, about to die sort of way. It was the disgust of this horrid, repulsive loss of life. It was such a waste...all of this. These were innocent lives, and there wasn't even anyone to blame for losing them. They were lost only due to ignorance, to playing with forces that they didn't understand.
He looked back down at the eye on his hand. He had never been injected with the mineral...but he had it imbedded in his skin for years now. Why had he never experienced any adverse effects? Was this what he had to look forward to?
Looking up, he heard voices and realized that the Jedi was talking to him. The eyes that blinked at her - and then at Zen - were empty and lost. It was like he didn't know where he was.
He saw the hand extended to him, and he looked at it warily before slowly backing away. "Your master is calling you." He told her, going back up the steps towards the throne. He looked at Zen. "And yours." So that was it. He released Zen of all responsibility to the Found...and went to his grave with his.