60 ABY

"Hanna!"

The youngest daughter of Rey and Ben Solo awoke to see her brother standing over her, and smelling smoke in the air. She sat up so quickly, her head spun a little.

"We've gotta get out of here," Anakin said. "Just get your boots and holster on, make sure to grab your weapons— we're going to make a break for the Falcon— Artoo's already out in the hangar."

Hanna got to her feet, and grabbed the holster pouch she kept in the first drawer of her night-stand. She looked to Anakin as she put it on, desperate for answers,

"What's going on?" she asked.

"We don't have time, I'll explain everything once we're on the Falcon," Anakin said as he found Hanna's boots right next to the door and her jacket hanging off a chair. "Short story is that someone burned down the Jedi Temple."

"Who?" Hanna raised an eyebrow as she pulled her boots on. "Who did it, Ani?"

Anakin bit his lip. "Someone calling herself Darth Lunala."

Hanna's blue Skywalker eyes widened. "A Sith Lord?"

"Yes, so we need to get out of here," Anakin said, thrusting the jacket at her. Hanna shrugged it on, put her blaster in the holster, and summoned her lightsaber to her hand with the Force.

"I'm ready," she said, albeit a bit breathless.

"Come on," Anakin said. He led her out into the hallway of the Aquilaen Royal Palace, where the Royal Family of the First Order had resided for the past twenty-six years. The normally cool periwinkle lights on the wall were red, alarms blaring as a warning. The Palace was unrecognizable in the crimson light, and Hanna couldn't help but be afraid.

As the adrenaline built up in her veins, she was becoming more in touch with the Force— feeling pain, terror, and anger all around her like a coffin. Her steps quickened, until she broke into a run, several paces ahead of Anakin.

"Hanna, wait!"

She stopped, but not because of Anakin. She instead saw her mother stumble backwards into the hall, her saber-staff activated. Despite the heat of the flames from the temple drifting over into the castle, Hanna felt very cold, as if all the light had been drained from the world.

"Hanna, what—"

Anakin rested his hand on his sister's shoulder. She could sense his fear, on top of everyone else's, the hatred, the pain—

Then she saw her mother's attacker follow into the room. It was her sister, wielding two red lightsabers.

"Han-Han, listen to me," Anakin said, whirling his younger sister around. "I need you to get to the hangar."

"What about you, what's Thea doing—"

"Go to the hangar," Anakin ordered. "And leave without me— do yo understand?"

Hanna shook her head, barely understanding the words coming out of her brother's mouth. "I'm not leaving you!"

"You are, GO!" Anakin shouted.

In shock, Hanna stumbled backwards, and Anakin pulled out his own saber-staff, with two blue ends, the same as his mother's.

She felt betrayal, pain, confusion, terror, hatred, all of it was building, as the smell of smoke crept into the hallways. It took everything Hanna had to run.

So she did. She ran into the hangar, where the door was open. Stormtroopers were running into their TIEs and taking off all around her, but Hanna dashed past the Falcon, past the private ship that her father had commissioned for her, and our onto the top of the dam where the water that ran beneath the palace came out.

She turned in the direction of the smoke, and what she saw brought her to her knees. The temple that her father had built for her mother, the temple that her mother had put her entire life into, was in flames. Students ran from it as soldiers in Alderaanian uniforms chased them with flamethrowers and electrified batons. Her eyes darted from student to student as she saw the death, feeling it as if it were her own—

Her hands drifted all over her body, trying to soothe invisible wounds that she felt from everyone. The thoughts of the dying were screaming in her brain— the pain— the suffering— the agony— the fear— the betrayal— the hatred— the confusion—

Hanna covered her ears like a small child, but it did nothing. Every nerve was afire, all her senses were being blinded—

That was when she screamed.

For a moment, Hanna thought she had gone unconscious. But she was still seeing, her ears were ringing— but she felt strangely numb, in a way she didn't understand. She didn't sense— couldn't sense anyone anymore.

Hanna's eyes widened, and she removed her hands from her ears, and looked at them as they shook. She wasn't— she wasn't Force-sensitive anymore.

Her scream had cut her off from it completely.

She scrambled to her feet as she saw an Alderaanian soldier approaching, and grabbed the DL-44 off of her holster, shooting the man right through the heart, despite her shaky hands and lack of a connection to the Force. She clutched onto it with both hands as she backed up into the hangar. Upon feeling something jab her leg, she whirled around, and nearly blasted the top off of R2-D2.

"Artoo!" she cried, relieved to see her childhood comrade. "Where are the others?"

I don't know, the droid beeped. But we have to leave. The Wookiee is waiting for us on the ship.

"We should use the Stardust instead," Hanna said. "Thea doesn't know about that one— and then if Anakin and Rey survive— they could use that one instead!"

Maybe we shouldn't— Artoo's beeping was interrupted by Hanna running back into the hangar.

She ran up the ramp of her private shuttle, and Artoo reluctantly followed. She punched in coordinates for Jakku, and took off, following Anakin's last command to the word.

It was only when the ship made the leap into hyperspace that the regrets came flooding in.