The Republic is at war.

In a grieve-stricken galaxy, the First Order descends on the Outer Rim. Striking in full force, the descendants of the Empire deal blow after decisive blow against the demilitarised Republic, in an effort to make ground after the loss of Star Killer Base.

Outraged by the show of force, the Republic mobilises its forces, spearheaded by Admiral Ackbar, and General Leia's elite strike force of Resistance fighters. As the war comes to a head, it is more than Stormtroopers and the fallen Kylo Ren that threaten the Republic, for traitors and turncoats lurk from within the senate itself, and old enemies wait to rise from the shadow of the Empire to enact their vengeance. Only the emergence of an old hope, and a new generation of Jedi knights could turn the tide…

Chapter 1 - An Old Hope

She could see it, the island. It had been a mere glimpse in her mind before, one she did not fully understand. Now, it was real. Hills stood proud above the vast ocean that surrounded them, with each island blanketed in trees and cool green fields. Rey could not help but marvel at the array of colours. As the Falcon touched down and wildlife scattered from the roar of its engines, she could not break her gaze. Blue and green were still new to her. Too long she had stared at endless planes of sand with no hope or future in sight, only a mirage of the past returning to her. A past that lied to her.

Stepping out onto the ship's ramp, she caught the scent of salt water as it crashed and frothed against the land. The ground was soft below her boots, yet it did not feel as giving as the snows of Star killer base, or the hot sands of her home world. This was a new place to her and it took a moment to remember her true goal. The galaxy was depending on her and to be distracted now would be foolish.

Stone steps lay before her, carved into the rock face of the island, enticing her on. She travelled alone, using her staff to aid her up the steep climb. She could not hear Chewbacca following behind. Whether he was there or not, she did not know, for it was not just the screeching of the island's inhabitants and the dampness in the air that preyed on her senses, but something stronger. She could feel it, growing heavier by the minute but she did not have the knowledge to know what it could be. She grew uneasy.

When at last she reached the island's summit, she took a deep breath and swallowed hard. She was no longer alone on that unfamiliar island. Facing away from her, concealed by a brown cloak, meditating, was a single solitary figure. They looked out to sea for a purpose Rey could not comprehend. All she knew in her heart was that this was the man she was searching for. As if he had sensed her, the man turned slowly, until Rey could catch the smallest glimpse of the person under the hood. There were no words that she could utter. Instead, she revealed an artifact from her satchel and reached out her hand.

The man pulled down his hood. She watched on as the metallic fingers of his right hand, and the natural ones of his left worked in unison to reveal his face. She was caught off guard at first. She had heard tales of his infamous duel with Darth Vader, but she didn't fully believe them until that moment. Her focus broke from his false hand and locked into a mutual gaze. He appeared to be nothing more than a hermit with an unkept beard, a strange man living a lonely life on a natural paradise, but the more she looked into the blue of his eyes, the more they revealed the truth.

Any questions he had were gone once he looked upon the lightsaber in her outstretched grasp. He showed a look of broken hope, or was it something else? Disappointment? Fear of the inevitable? Rey could not tell. It was stern and judging, turning away from the lightsaber and onto her. She did all she could to stop her hand from shaking. She pleaded inside for him to do something, to say anything. This man was not what she had imagined. This could not have been the Jedi Master of old. Surely, she thought, this was not Luke Skywalker?

At last, to her relief, he reached out and took the weapon from her hand and let it rest in both of his palms. His eyes were full of conflict, filled with a past Rey was not privy to. It was as if the weapon was painful for him to hold. He sighed, accepting whatever he felt within him, and gave her a questioning glare.

"Who are you?" He asked with no inflection, as if he already knew the answer.

She bit her lip nervously and said the first thing that came to mind.

"Rey."

It was a name that meant nothing to him, for she was nothing.

"That isn't the question I asked."

She wanted to tell him everything, about the Republic, about the First Order, but she could not find the courage to do so. The way he looked at her was unnerving. It was like he had seen her before.

He let his left arm fall, leaving only his metal hand to grasp the weapon of his father.

"Years have come and gone. What this weapon once meant… it has all changed."

He let go, letting the blade fall away, as it had long ago on Bespin.

"What you came for, you won't find it here."

The man passed her, leaving Rey in a state of apprehension. She hadn't expected this. She had to tell this man what was really going on. The galaxy depended on him and she couldn't let it fall because she was too weak to do her part.

"Wait!"

She called out, but the man was already a fair distance downhill. When her eyes fell to the blade that rested on the soft grass beside her, she realised how little she had understood his words. Who was she? Well, she was Rey of course, a nobody from Jakku. How could she have misunderstood his question? She retrieved the weapon and headed on after him.

"Wait! The Resistance needs you!"

He did not hesitate for a second. She spoke to him of the First Order, of Kylo Ren and the state of the galaxy, but it was a one way message. Either she wasn't breaking through to this man, or he was completely ignoring her. Neither boded well for her. Rey chose to silence herself and watch him instead. She learnt how this master Jedi of old had survived alone on a beautiful but remote world. He caught fish with a lethal and unnatural precision, using long spears he had fashioned from what he could find. Even the wildlife supplied him with a source of milk, uncaring of his presence.

He headed to a small hut made of a dull grey stone. It didn't fit with the rest of the surroundings and was easy to spot against the greenery. Rey felt strangely at home.

"Have you thought on my question?"

At last the silence had been broken between them, but it only served to leave Rey further in the dark.

"Well?" he asked again.

Now it was her turn to give no answers.

"I thought so."

He offered her a bottle filled with blue milk. She had survived on scraps for much of her life, so the unappealing bottle of fluid didn't faze her. She had the horrid feeling that she was going to be there a while anyway. She took it and looked to the ground.

"Thanks."

He nodded out of politeness, and little more.

The ocean spray once again filled the soundless void between them, and as the man prepared to return his possessions to his hut, he fell upon a familiar sight. For a split second, the sound of blaster fire came to mind, and the cheers of friends he had made long ago. There it was. The Millennium Falcon in all its rusted glory.

"If ever there was someone to find me in the most remote of places, it would be him."

He paid no more heed to the stranger behind him and headed towards the ship. The energy with which he carried himself was impressive for a man of his apparent age. Each stride was like that of a young man, full of confidence and yet with respect for the ground underneath him, as if he were being mindful of the grass itself.

He had not expected to see that historic ship again in his lifetime. Her great bulk bore over him, and he was just as small in its shadow as he had been decades ago on Tatooine. The familiar tink noise of the engines cooling brought a smile to his wrinkled face.

"Still a piece of junk, aren't you?" he said as he raised an eyebrow.

He heard the sound of footsteps in the long grass, but they were heavier than those of the girl who had approached him seemingly out of nowhere. He was met with another familiar sight, and a quiet roar.

"Chewie?"

It was a simple greeting considering they had not seen each other for years, but it was an unexpected one after all. His eyes darted between the Wookie, and the strange girl who had arrived on his island. Something was wrong.

"Where's Han?" He asked with an interrogative voice.

The Wookie was melancholy. Luke needed no more than that, and before Chewbacca could make a single noise, he felt the Jedi Master's arms around him. Chewbacca felt the comfort of his old friend, and a sense of contentment knowing that someone understood. For Rey, it was eye opening. The gruff exterior of the smuggler she had met failed to represent the man inside. Kylo Ren had been right. He had been like a father figure to her in the brief time she knew him. She had felt idiotic for attaching such a title to someone she barely knew, but even the small amount of faith he had put in her had been more than she had ever known. The sight of two friends grieving over his loss proved to her that he had been more than a scoundrel.

"I'm sorry Chewie." Luke's apology was more than words of condolence.

He lent against the side of the ship, silencing asking for permission to enter. Chewbacca let out a weak growl, causing Luke to smile. There was the smell of oil, and layers of dust on the metal panels around him. It was all as he had remembered it. Luke stood alone inside the cockpit, and for a fleeting moment, he was a young man again. The first words he had said upon the sight of the thing came to mind. For the untrained eye, the freighter was a heap of junk, but the story it could tell made it a legend.

"Hello, ol' girl." He whispered, with no one to hear.

Both front seats were empty, void of their owner, for he would never hear the roar of the ships engines or the thrill of outracing an enemy ship again. It was hard to believe for Luke. Han was a survivor, he always had been. What tragedy could have befallen him, he hated to think. He should have known, he should have sensed it, but no one could be allowed to feel his presence in the Force. Not least, his new enemy.

Luke found himself sitting beside Chewbacca's Dejarik board, his head bowed. He had trained in those halls on the advice of his first master. A simple man he had appeared to be, Old Ben. From him, Luke had learned the truth of the force. Obi-Wan was the history of an ancient order, concealed under dusty robes. Luke felt his beard, unshaven and unkept. The irony pierced his soul.

He was soon joined by Chewbacca.

"I should have been there… I… how did it happen?" The old Jedi asked.

Such anger was present in the Wookie's eyes, such betrayal.

"It was Kylo Ren," Luke heard Rey's voice. She stood beside Chewbacca, her voice stern. "Han Solo tried to help him, but the monster murdered him."

Luke looked heartbroken.

"This is my fault. If I hadn't… I've been too weak."

He couldn't look either of them in the eye. He marched passed them with broken conviction, trying to get away from them in his grief.

"If we don't do something, the First Order will take it all!" Rey called out to him.

He hesitated.

"That voice. It's so… Who are you?" He asked again, with the same tone.

She took a deep breath and spoke with confidence.

"Something inside me has always been there, but now it's awake. I need to know my place in all this."

There was acceptance in his eyes, and just the hint of a proud smile. Its meaning was oblivious to her.

"Follow me."