The figure before Rey stood, a stark white slash in the mellow sky of Ahch-To. Rey approached him with care, her footing light and unobtrusive - even from this distance, she could feel the power that ebbed from him. It seeped into every part of her being, intoxicating, blinding and, above all, terrifying . She could feel these tendrils of energy - of light - reaching and mingling with her own, the part of her being that had only just been awakened that fateful night on Starkiller again, her eyes pored over the figure that stood like an alabaster statue, his eyes fixed on the horizon in front of Rey.
Despite the soft treading of her feet on the peaty ground, the subtle motions of the figure's hood informed Rey that the man in front of her was already aware of her. A pent up breath escaped her trembling lips, ragged and full of the anxiety.
Before her stood the man that could change everything.
Immediately, doubts swelled within the young girls mind - the vicious sea winds that tore at her earth-brown hair mirrored the turmoil within her brain. A sudden urge became her, not one of hope, but one of rage.
If this man was not Luke Skywalker, all would be lost to the looming jaws of the First Order. The images of the fiery jihad she had seen within her visions replayed within her mind; the First Order flag razing the galaxy, wielding its nameless authority, screaming of bloody Babylons and sin - and spinning all of this into a false paradise. All of this yet again flickered before her eyes; sleep had evaded her on the homely enfolds of the Falcon. When her eyes closed the dead came back to her, muttering death unto the young girls ears. Those yet to be dead appeared too, thousands of them, praying for her to save them. And however much the girl kicked and screamed and tore at her eyes, she could not remove the images that had been thrust upon her, the recurring nightmare that had driven her to find the Jedi master that now stood before her-
—mist. it permeates the air, its milky tendrils grasping at my voice box. the three moons illuminate the ground of scarlet grass. the grass is blood, covered in pools of red. it invades my nostrils, acrid and vile and burning like a—
Again. Her breathing is rapid and irregular, the sharp intakes of air stabbing at her throat. Rey's eyes glazed over and her iron resolve yet again engulfed her. This man will be our saviour - he will avert the vision, he will destroy the First Order. Once she had centred herself, she allowed her gaze to come to rest on the figure in the middle distance.
His eyes bore into her, the colour of the storm yet to come.