A part of the sun is captured in the lightsaber at her throat. She can feel the heat whispering against her skin, flickering with instability- with chaos. It's the perfect weapon for him and for the task at hand.

"You've finished it." She realizes, throat parched and scratchy. Exhaustion weighs on her like the thick quits that are handed out to them in the winter, but she refuses to close her eyes. Refuses to make this any easier for him.

There is no death, only the Force.

She will die tonight, slain by the hand that had nurtured her for so long, though heartbroken isn't exactly the emotion she feels. To feel the Reaper's outstretched fingers was not new to her. She'd felt it many nights as a sickly babe, fought it the day her mother died, was rescued from it by her master on her sixth birthday. He'd been fourteen then, a tantrum-prone, lanky young man who'd stuck his tongue out when she wouldn't stop staring. They had been inseparable ever since. How things had changed from then. How many more things had stayed the same.

"It's beautiful." She continues when he doesn't offer a response. He's standing stoic at the edge of her bed, feet apart, ready to strike. There's no expression in his face that she can discern, but he hasn't made any other move just yet. He's hesitating.

Sitting up is difficult but she manages. The world spins uncontrollably for a moment, and when it stabilizes, her gaze settles back on the opponent before her. No, he isn't fourteen anymore, is he? The same features are there; the eyes and the jaw are his father's, the nose belonging to his mother. But the thick mane of raven curls are all his, and so are the ears that she'd so easily mocked at every argument. But she's still a child and he's nineteen now, a man and almost a Jedi. Her gaze falls back to the weapon hovered at her throat. It's new, and more likely than not, has shed more droplets of blood than the amount of hours it has existed.

"Am I the first or the last?" She asks. Again, he doesn't answer. Just stares at her, at the tears trickling down her cheeks. She'd been so terrified for the past few months, knowing he was nearing the end of his apprenticeship. In a futile attempt to keep him with her, she'd concocted a series of pranks and obstacles to undermine his training. She'd never have thought he'd sabotage himself.

No. That was a lie, and she wasn't going to dishonour her peers by pretending she'd been oblivious to this. She knew this was fated to happen, just as she knew his plan was to slaughter them, only. She knew because she knew him. Their master had attempted to show him a path in the light but hadn't been enough. Whatever persuasion she had over him hadn't been enough, either. She was just a kid, after all. A sister at best and a tag-along at worst.

Finally he speaks. His voice is velvety deep, and the words that emerge feel like a shameful secret on both sides.

"Nin, come with me."

And, for the briefest of moments, Nin's answer is yes. Then she's scared. Really truly filled with fear. She's not scared of death, she's scared of what she could become if he doesn't drive his lightsaber through her throat right then.

"No." She tells him with all the strength she has left in her.

There. The last threads of their relationship, severed.

Ben flicks his wrist and all the fiery heat of the sun eats into Nin's flesh. There's nothing to do but scream, full and loud, consumed by pain, until her lungs are empty and her throat has failed. Instinct tells her to reach up and push the rod of red away, but she spares her hands by clutching the thin sheets of her bed.

Then it's gone. The weight of it is removed and her flesh sizzles in the open air. Their eyes meet, and Nin's angry to see that he looks betrayed. She wishes she wasn't in this state, covered in her own sweat, shivering, weak, malnourished. In good health she'd be able to wipe that expression clean off his face.

"The fever will kill you by morning." Ben says, almost like he's speaking to himself. This is Ben Solo's final act of mercy. Nin is helpless and fraught with tears as Kylo Ren slays her one and only friend, spits on everything he could have been, and leaves her alone in her small, spartan bedroom without so much as a glance back.