A/N: Welcome to my first Star Wars fanfic! I'm extremely excited about this fic because it is something that I have thought about deeply. At first I was like, "Meh I can't do that. I have Take Me and ASWD. I have so much that I still have to do." But I finally decided after seeing SW:TFA a fourth time (don't judge), I wanted to write this fanfic. I hate the idea of Reylo, so this ain't one of those stories. Sorry, but Rey and Finn are better together (even if I find Finn to be utterly annoying at points yet adorable at others). This is my attempt at a KyloxOC story. So I hope y'all enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars nor anything made by George Lucas, so sadly I am still a broke college student instead of a millionaire mastermind. I do however own my OC, which I take pride in.

Second Author's Note at bottom, important too!

Prologue

A figure stalked slowly, a black cape billowing behind them. They were seemingly tall, but a closer look entails heels on bulky boots. It showed the figure was a woman. But that was all that was visible. The cloak covered all other details. It failed to cover one prominent detail though.

Fear.

Fear emanated from every living soul except from the woman with the cape. Fear was literally dripping from the humid air like water. A look around the area showed multiple figures, figures clad in white armor. A white armor that seemed very similar to…stormtrooper armor. Stormtroopers were expendable soldiers who worked with the dark side, based off of the clone troopers of the Republic many years past. They all stood silently and stiffly, none moving a muscle as the woman passed them. Some seemed to let out a breath of relief as she finally passed them, others did not.

A group of what seemed to be locals or natives to the humid terrain, sweat like dogs at the moment. They were used to the humid air, yes, but they had never felt the suffocating fear that they felt right now. No living soul had felt that fear like they did. Though…dead souls had felt that fear before being released from their bodies. It seemed to be something that a soul was gifted before they ceased to breath.

The woman then stopped before the small group of survivors, her cloak swishing to the side slightly as the wind pushed it aside. A hood covered the head but arms, garbed in metal gloves, reached up and pulled the hood down slowly. This action caused her cloak to bunch up at the shoulders and revealed black fabric covering her biceps and shoulders. The metal covered forearms and hands slowly lowered and were once again covered by the now free cape.

The most interesting part however was the fact that metal now gleamed in the sparse light shining down from the canopy of the tall trees. The metal was a dark grey or black, it was hard to distinguish really. It curved elegantly over a head. It was a helmet! Intricate detailing covered the helmet, that was connected to the body with somewhat hidden clasps on the bottom back of the helmet attached to clasps on metal on the neck. The detailing was midnight black and was engraved into the helmet, simple lines that ran in a design. It was beautiful. Well…the part that was visible of course.

"Do you know what death is?" a voice rang out in the pregnant silence that had been created whilst the woman had stalked closer to the group. The most intriguing thing was the sound of the voice. A voice disguiser was obviously being used, as the female voice sounded mechanically deep. It sounded though, if listened to and pondered on, as if the voice was strained and the speaker was in pain. But there was also a tone of collected rage and darkness not quite so hidden.

The woman crouched then, her helmeted head cocked to the side. In front of her stood a child, one who looked at her in pure fear and confusion. Children were like that, following their parents' examples blindly. The woman gave a terrifying chuckle, made even more horrific by the voice disguiser she used. She reached out a metal-gloved hand and rested it on the child's tear-stained cheek. The kid was a little boy, no older than seven years old. Perhaps he was a year or two older. But that did not matter to the woman. She seemed frozen.

Her hand was still against the young boy's cheek. Then, as if she hadn't stopped, she ran her hand down his cheek and under his chin. Her forefinger and thumb grasped of his round chin and pulled his head up so that he was looking directly at her. "You, young one," she spoke quietly, as if she actually cared, "are one I must look at. You are strong with the Force and you have a good heart, it is not that hard to see that." She was speaking outwardly but it seemed as though she was speaking more to herself than anything. Her tone was thoughtful, but…not in a good way.

"But that means you are a threat," she spoke harshly, venom lacing her voice. She pushed the head of the child back strongly, standing quickly. The sounds of a child crying out filling the area now. She spun around, showing her front appearance. It was utterly terrifying.

The menacing woman wore that same dark metal and black fabric, not an inch of skin exposed. It was not only for practical reasons, but also so no one could know her identity, that much was for sure. The metal covering her body stretched in a weird design. It held two medium straps that covered parts of her shoulders. Both of her breasts were covered, a line on each side marking the end. The middle of her chest and most of her stomach would be exposed if she had not worn the black fabric underneath. A thick, and loosely hanging, brown belt hung on her wide hips. The belt started out thin and then enlarged substantially to the point of covering her entire left hip. Her skirt was cut into three sections, all black smooth fabric. The pieces of material reached the ground if she did not have her heels on. Black material covered the parts of her legs that would not be covered by her knee-high, metal boots. Her outfit was quite scary. But that's exactly what she aimed for.

The front of her mask though…that was the scariest part. The intricate designs were still visible. Though, the openings for the eyes were large and black, two separate spaces. No eyes could be seen behind those large black openings. The mask did not conform to the facial structure of the woman. In fact the only part that showed a sliver of the woman's structure was the fact that the helmet dipped lightly and then steeply cut down around the nose area. Another black opening covered from the bottom of the nose all the way to the chin it seemed. It was a bit wide but still, no skin or features of the face were visible through the blackened opening. Overall, it was damn terrifying to most.

The woman's head turned to the side as she strode towards her regiment of stormtroopers. She seemed to have heard something but just as quickly as her movements of her head had occurred, she was looking towards her regiment once again. "Kill them all," she commanded with an icy tone that somehow escaped through her voice disguiser. She then looked over to a stormtrooper who was taller and bigger than the rest. The trooper had a black cape off of one shoulder and their armor was a shiny grey color. It looked a little like a tin armor.

"Phasma," she said, her eye openings pointed towards the different stormtrooper, "I want you to eliminate the child as quickly as possible. Can't risk him living." Her voice seemed determined and she looked down to the ground for a second.

"Of course, My Lord," Captain Phasma spoke, the voice disguiser on the trademark stormtrooper helmet not able to hide the fact that the captain was a woman. The leader of the group turned her head, no longer entranced by the ground, to watch Phasma take long strides towards the child. The woman watched as the female stormtrooper shouldered her large blaster rifle. A shiver seemed to run down the leader's back as she spun her head quickly. Perhaps she did not wish to watch the death of a young child. Most people were not able to watch such an occurrence much less commit such an act.

The woman did not flinch at the sound of a child's abrupt scream and silence, nor the sound of the natives screaming as bladders ripped through their flesh. In fact, she was perfectly still. She didn't move. She didn't speak. She didn't even breathe. That was never a good sign.

"Stop!" she commanded, her voice ringing throughout the clearing. The sound of boasters firing stopped suddenly, each stormtrooper cocking their head questioningly. Even Captain Phasma seemed to hold an inquisitive air around her. The leader seemed to start to shake, anger rolling off of her. Her hands visibly clenched into fists and the sound of metal grating against metal was clear throughout the area. The woman was in a rage and it didn't take a genius to figure that out.

She roared in anger and reached for her belt. Her right hand grasped around a cylindrical object. The object was dark grey in color, much like her helmet. It was made of metal ringlets connecting to one another, much like her metal gloves and boots. It held a small red button near the top of the object. Three prongs were located on each end; each sharp and angled like claws. They were placed expertly to curve inwards and in a triangle configuration. It was a bit medieval-esque in a sense but nonetheless beautiful. Her thumb pressed violently down upon the red button, her hand holding on tightly to the cylindrical part. A long, red beam of light and energy emerged from the top of the object.

It was a lightsaber. More specifically, a sith's lightsaber. The red coloring of the energy beam emitting from the hilt of the weapon showed just how controlled the woman was by hate, anger, and violence. And, if one looked closely, they could see a slight edge of static around the blade part. That was a tell-tale sign of instability in the mind and emotions. For wielders of lightsabers who were not unstable did not have a waver to their weapon. But, this woman had a slight waver. It meant she was not fully unstable, but she could become it at times.

The woman spun her lightsaber around in her hand, the movement causing the weapon to make an ominous sound. It cut through the air and actually cut a little bit into the mud and grass below. She turned her head to the side, pulling her weapon up. She seemed to be casually inspecting it in a mocking way. The red light caused a red tint to overcome her helmet, armor, and clothing. That's when it became obvious that the sky had darkened substantially and dark, ominous clouds had covered the sky. It looked like rain clouds. How fitting really. A dark force comes to this bright planet and suddenly darkness overcomes the once light place.

The woman seemed to think these exact words as she looked up to the sky. An ominous chuckle escaped her helmet as she pulled her weapon down slightly. The red light then began to seem brighter. It was so much more violent looking. So much more…evil.

"You…brought…friends?" she asked, obviously angered. Her voice was shaky, even more cold than before. Her lightsaber was shaking, her hand causing it to do so. Her muscles seemed taut. Every muscle in her body seemed tightened at the moment, showing her anger and it seemed…it showed…nervousness? She had given off an air of menace and evil until this moment. Now it was nerves and anger.

"Of course we did," a man spat, causing the woman's head to snap up. The man was older, probably in his mid forties to early fifties. He had darkened skin and peppered hair that was thinning upon his scalp. A thick beard covered his lower jaw. He held bright green eyes that held disdain and hate, both directed towards the shaking woman. "We are located in Resistance space, Darth Necron," the man spat out, nodding his head towards the woman named Darth Necron.

Darth Necron threw her head back and gave a sharp laugh. She then snapped her head back and stared directly at the man. She threw her left hand up, her fingers curled as if pulling him towards her by the throat. And that's exactly what she did through the power of the Force. She watched as the older man was quickly dragged towards her, his hands grasping at his own neck in obvious shock and pain. His tall and large body stopped short in front of Necron. She then raised her arm up, causing the man's feet to leave the ground as he struggled against her Force choke.

Veins popped out slightly, showing the struggle that the man was putting up as he tried his hardest to breathe fully. "I'm…not…some name you can just throw around," Darth Necron hissed. She was obviously pissed that this man had used her name so casually instead of in fear and trembling. She was not used to people tossing around her name as if it was just another name. She clenched her hand even tighter, her head cocked slightly to the side as the man gasped at the sudden pain and harder force. "I am someone to be feared, and you will learn that," she threatened.

She then unclenched her hand and waved it down, freezing the man with his eyes open in the air. Necron then made a swirling motion with her armored hand and this caused the older human to face the group of survivors. A few people lay dead, others had yet to be disposed of. She gave a slight cackle as she stalked towards the group, her head pointed towards the people who had been closer to the man; they were most likely his family. They consisted of a woman, around the same age, with dark hair that was greying slightly at the roots. She had fearful chestnut brown eyes and dark skin to match. Two children (around ten in age probably) huddled near their obvious mother, as they looked identical to both the woman and each other. Three girls to kill, three girls that held the key to this man's heart.

"Lucky you," Necron spoke slowly, reaching the three girls. She watched as the mother seemed to toughen up and stand in front of the twin girls.

"Kill me, but leave my daughters and husband alone," she stated defiantly, looking down at Necron. This caused the evil woman to snort and laugh. She huddled over her stomach for a second, her free hand grasping her belly. She laughed mechanically for a few seconds and sighed as if she had just cried in humor.

"Oh this is great!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air, her weapon illuminating the now dark area. Little droplets of rain began to fall, sporadically and slowly though. She straightened and could not seem to keep the small chuckles quiet for a second. "This right here folks is the epitome of cliché and annoying," she spoke in a bored tone now, pointing her lightsaber right at the chest of the woman. "But it does entail a great show," she spoke, a threat as an undertone.

"And you have the front row seat," she turned towards the frozen man, fear obvious now in his green eyes. Necron slashed diagonally down and a scream pierced the air, before falling silent. The sound of a body colliding with the ground was followed with two young screams and cries. Necron did nothing but look directly at the frozen man, a smirk not visible but obvious. Her body showed the obvious smugness. Pain, anger, sorrow, and hate filled the man's eyes up to the brim. "Oops," she taunted, not moving one bit under the hateful stare.

She spun around quickly, the back of her left hand colliding with the cheek of a person. Necron seemed obviously surprised by the brave act of the taller twin. Though it didn't make her any less annoyed. She watched as the child was thrown a few feet into a tree, as Necron had put in a little more power into her hit even if caught off guard. She didn't even wince as the child cried out in pain. Necron stalked over, bristling with anger, to the crying girl. She pushed a boot into the girl's stomach, eliciting a stronger cry. She bent over towards the girl, her helmet directly in front of the girl's pained face. "Didn't you're parents ever teach you to respect your elders?" she questioned, annoyance and anger filling her mechanical voice. She dug her boot in deeper, the girl crying out even more.

Darth Necron swung her lightsaber down, the sound of energy slicing through a body echoing throughout the space. The sound of pained cries was cut violently short and Necron took a step back. Her body was shaking, her vision probably red. She was obviously past her own minuscule set of morals. It pushed her even further into the dark side. She spun around, a little bit of blood spattered onto her clothing and armor. It was not hers and it empowered her so much more.

"One more, old man," she spat, taking as long of strides as her short legs could allow. "Troopers!" she barked out as she reached the terrified girl, grasping a hold of her bicep and pulling her closer to her. "Kill them all! Every single last one!" she commanded, her voice sounding crazed. Her body seemed to vibrate in an insane excitement as the stormtroopers began to load up their blasters…

But a shot. A single shot rang out in the clearing and it hit its target. The target? Darth Necron's helmet.

It pushed the woman back as she let out a small scream in pain. Her grip on both her weapon and the girl loosened, causing both to escape. It also caused her concentration to falter and the once frozen man fell to the ground, the girl running towards him with tears running down her face. Necron's hands immediately darted towards her helmet, her body huddled over in obvious pain. Whoever had caused her pain deserved a pat on the back.

The sound of more shots rang out in the clearing accompanied by the sounds of falling bodies. Stormtroopers were dropping like flies. Only Captain Phasma and around ten stayed standing. Resistance soldiers poured out of the surrounding shrubbery. They had their blasters trained on Phasma and the remaining troopers, not Necron. How interesting…

Necron then stood suddenly, the sound of a helmet clattering against the somewhat muddy ground, rain starting to fall a little more consistently. She stuck her right hand out to the side, blood dripping from it. This time, it was her blood. Her lightsaber, which had rolled away, flew into her hand and not a second later it was turned on and humming. Darth Necron then spun around, revealing her face.

Blood was oozing violently from her left cheek. A burn mark stretched from the bottom of her jaw all the way to right under her eye. It ran all the way from the side of her ear towards the very side of her lips. The blast had completely torn off the side of her face. And one part was burned deeper than the rest. The left corner of her lips was no longer existent. It had been burnt through completely, now revealing a few white teeth.

Her face could be considered pretty otherwise. Her skin was a paling tan, as she had obviously spent time out of the sun under the garb and helmet she donned. A few freckles dotted her cheeks (well cheek now). She held a strangely strong jaw with nicely complimenting high cheekbones. Her nose was normal really, a slight bump on the length of it probably due to poorly mended broken bones. Her lips were medium in size, normal really. Hazel-blue eyes burnt with rage, normal eyelashes trimming her eyes. Angled, thick, dark eyebrows scrunched together as a form of showing anger. And the hair. The hair did not match the eyebrows one bit. Necron's hair was platinum blonde, nearly white. It was pulled into a now messy bun at the back of her head, two thick, wavy strands framing her face. Her hair was so light and she was so dark.

Necron's lips were bloodied, making them a deep red. She turned her head to the side and spit out even more blood, looking on in hate at the spot her precious body fluid landed. She then snapped her head to face the rebelling regiment, anger fueling her fight. She lifted her left hand as she walked strongly towards the fight, picking up a man. She threw her arm to the side causing the man to fly into a sharp tree branch. She didn't even flinch as the man was impaled by the dark branch, blood now dripping to the ground. Necron accomplished this a few times before another lightsaber was placed horizontally in front of her.

She stopped, barely saving her own life. It was obvious that she could feel the heat coming from the bright blue blade, as the rain droplets began to evaporate off of her neck. Necron tilted her head up slightly, her hazel-blue eyes staring down at the blue light. A look of remembrance crossed her eyes and quickly replaced the anger and hate. But it left as quickly as it came. The blazing anger and hate returned and her head turned to the side, her eyes searching for her new opponent.

"No more, Ishana," a voice spoke, a male one at that. It was strong voice, one that men around Necron's…Ishana's age held. It was a surprisingly familiar voice. And oh did it surprise Ishana.

Her eyes widened as they took in the man holding out his lightsaber towards her neck. Every dark emotion on her face seemed to melt away and only surprise, remembrance, and pure anguish replaced them. Her lips parted slightly, a little bit of blood now accumulating on her bottom lip. Her whole body stuttered in its actions then, almost causing her throat to land on the energy blade. "B-Ben?" she breathed out, stuttering over the man's name.

The man, Ben, stood there, towering over her figure. He held a fair pallor, his skin covered mostly by the clothing that a jedi apprentice usually wore. He had a long face, a pointed one at that with a strong jaw. His nose was much like his face: long. But it was strangely a good feature. He had very full lips. Dark eyes accompanied dark, thick eyebrows and black, curly hair. But the most intriguing part was the disappointment, pity, and sadness shown openly in those two dark brown gates to the soul.

And those emotions…those emotions made Ishana switch back to her previous self; she was back to being hateful and angry. Ishana threw up her lightsaber, pushing Ben's back, causing a clash of blue and red sparks. Ishana took a quick step back, almost like a hop. Her left hand dropped to the hilt of her weapon, accompanying her right hand. She held her lightsaber pointed towards Ben, who had been caught off guard and was recovering.

A narrowed glare placed itself upon Ishana's face, she obviously trying to emit as much hate as possible. "Ana," Ben said, a pleading look in his eyes as he held his own weapon up.

"Don't call me that," Ishana spat out, gritting her teeth in pain as the rain caused her wound to sting intensely. She gasped lightly, her eyes shutting tightly. This only caused the pain to intensify. "Just don't call me that," she tried to say harshly, though it came out almost like a plea, much to her obvious chagrin. Her body seemed to shake in anger and pain, though the latter was much more prominent.

"Ana," Ben pressed on, walking closer, his weapon still drawn. Ishana was now breathing heavily due to both pain and sorrow. She obviously had not been expecting someone from her past to show up. "This isn't you, Ana. All of this death and destruction, it's not you," he was obviously trying to reason with the evil woman but he didn't know one thing. This was all too natural for her.

"That's where you're wrong Ben Solo," Ishana spoke lowly, a new emotion overcoming her. She seemed annoyed and…disappointed at the fact that he wouldn't accept it. "This is exactly all me. You can thank your precious master for allowing me to see that," she spat, the rain causing her hair to become matted to her scalp and face. It irritated her very open wound, red now staining parts of her nearly white hair. "And soon, you will understand this is exactly you too," she spoke, standing straight now, wincing at her wound. Blood dripped from her jawline and onto the muddied ground.

She then turned, hearing a signal to retreat pass through an ear-piece she donned on her right ear. Ishana then had to rip her arm from Ben's strong grasp, hissing at the sudden contact. She then threw him back using the Force, not even acknowledging the grunt of pain he gave as he flew into a bank of mud. Ishana shut off her weapon and attached it back to her belt. She only took four steps though. Four steps that altered her life…and nearly lost it.

A slight click below her right foot caused her to look down in slight horror. A land mine. A damned land mine was placed under her foot. And she had just stepped on it. She had to give it to the Resistance, they were damn persistent in trying to get rid of her. But Ishana set it in her mind that she would not be easily eliminated.

She slowly looked around, her hazel-blue eyes trained now on a rock to her right. It was a little bit over ten feet away but if she really tried, she could jump near it and maybe roll behind it. If she failed, she died. If she succeeded…well, then she didn't know. But it was better than dying, something she was not a fan of. Looking back down at the mud and the land mine placed beneath her foot, she made a decision. She closed her eyes, wincing at the pain from her open face side. She took a deep breath in and jumped to the side.

A blast filled the air.

A/N: So there's my first chapter! I kinda eased into her perspective. I set her as being unknown, along with her feelings and thoughts. Then I showed her alias and how she acts and a 3rd person pov on her shown feelings. Then I showed her true self in a way, but not too much. I revealed her first name and some of her thoughts. That's the way I enjoy writing and I hope it wasn't too confusing nor boring.

Also, this prologue is set around a year before Ben Solo becomes Kylo Ren and went with the age of Ben being around 17-18 and Ishana being around 17. Then, I'll follow a storyline of a year before the events of SW:TFA and then delve into those events and perhaps beyond. I like character and plot development so that's why I'm taking the path stated above.
Also, this story is rated M for a reason. Ya know the usual for me. Violence, language, and smut. I mean c'mon. Look at the rest of my stories XD
Well, thanks for reading and I hoped you enjoyed this long prologue!

Love,
P❤