The light's calling was always soothing. It was the thrum of life underneath the ground that never seems to cease. It was oftentimes his mother's voice. As time went on and her voice faded from memory it became a tuneless hum. Faded from memory? No, it wasn't so. Kylo Ren had no mother, no need for a one.

-.-

(But Ben missed her, what small part of him remained. And not even those soothing lullaby tones, but her pointed words, the voice of a general rebuilding the galaxy. That he missed, but Ben was dead. It's him or me; Ben was dead, he would whisper.)

-.-

The misshapen skull, the metal of the helmet fused to what little bone remained was an anchor. Snoke had bestowed him the gift. Kylo Ren didn't ask where he got it; there was no need to.

When the light whispered of longings, of a past and path bathed in eternal sunshine, he went to his grandfather. The room was small, his personal quarters. It was only him and the skull, more metal than bone, but a skull nonetheless.

He faced his grandfather, his veins singing to remember the legacy, remember.

It's a mantle, Kylo Ren was glad to take.

-.-

(But it was a lie, wasn't it? What Master Luke said? What his uncle said of his grandfather, his last moments, his change of heart. It must be a lie. The light couldn't break free from within like that. Snoke agreed with him, set history straight so his path remained unwavering.)

-.-

"I will finish what you started." Your legacy, he left unspoken.

Empty words. They soothed him more than the light ever could.

He stared at his grandfather. He offered no reply.

It had nothing to say to Kylo Ren. He wondered what he would say to Ben.