Chapter One

No tree, it is said, can grow to heaven, unless its roots reach down to hell.

Snoke.

The blood in her veins turned to boiling ice, and she involuntarily shuddered.

Kylo Ren noticed. He noticed everything.

He turned his head toward her as they strode silently side-by-side down the seemingly endless hallway, their boots clacking against the exact and unforgiving black tile of the Star Destroyer. Ren's emotions, as always, were inarticulate and safely cloaked under the inhuman mask he religiously donned when appearing in public. It was an intelligent prop: she knew well enough by now that his face, when bare, gave away everything.

"You're afraid," he said simply.

She almost rolled her eyes in exasperation – not this again. And of course she was afraid.

Afraid to have her mind violated. Afraid to fail. Afraid to succumb to his will…

"Interesting."

"What?" Rey asked more accusatorily than she would have liked. She squared her jaw and clenched her teeth, remembering the concern Master Skywalker had for her penchant to speak rashly, without considering the resulting consequences.

Ren shook his head slightly, and she knew she would get no answer.

His strides had slowed, and she was internally grateful; she had needed to almost jog to keep up with him as they walked, acutely aware of how child-like she appeared, skipping along next to Ren's tall, slender frame.

Ren suddenly stopped altogether, and Rey found herself facing a curved threshold with no ingress. She squinted, trying to see something – anything – and yet all her eyes could make out was resounding, deafening darkness. She reached out with the Force, and felt…nothing. The room itself was devoid of any life, of any history, of any element, of anything…

How is that possible? Rey thought.

"The Supreme Leader makes all possible," Ren answered her mechanically, and Rey was struck with such an unexpected sense of terror that she almost cried out.

And then her body went numb.

The tingling spread over her as if an egg had been cracked against the crown of her head; it slowly seeped over her shoulders, slithered through her arms, crept across her torso and trickled down her legs.

"Stop it," she said, almost pleadingly. She clumsily turned to look at Ren, her head weighing a ton, her neck rubbery and unsteady.

He remained silent, staring unmoved through the entrance. Waiting.

"Ren…"

"Quiet," he hissed threateningly.

Panic began to rise in her throat as Rey felt herself beginning to feel faint. Her eyesight was blurred and constricted. She panted. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, under her arms, on the back of her neck. She became unsteady on her feet and braced herself in case she hit the floor. Out of the corner of her eyes, she thought she could see Ren turn toward her, his head cocked as if he were curious, intrigued…

Then: "Enter."

It was a low whisper, immense in power, high in demand. As disoriented and clouded as she felt, her sickness lessened as Rey was compelled immediately to walk through the entryway. She was astutely aware that as of that moment, her body and decisions were not her own.

As the blackness engulfed her, the numbness disappeared and her mind returned to her. But the cold hand of terror remained, angrily clutching and violently twisting her insides in her lower belly, unrelenting and unapologetic. She smelled acrid dampness and the tang of metal, and the room was somehow both stale and cold.

Rey squinted her eyes out of habit, but knew to let the Force do the seeing for her. She sensed Ren to her left, his unstable anger pulsating clearly. Fifty feet in front of her was a massive structure – what appeared to be a chair – made of smooth, old stone. Directly behind her was the doorless entryway, cast in a shallow eerie glow.

And then he appeared.

He was a gigantic hologram, hairless, scarred, as old as time and even more repulsive than she anticipated. Master Skywalker had imparted on her the importance of feeling a person with the Force instead of relying on first physical impressions. So against her best judgment, but trusting her master, she reached toward the ghastly figure with the Force –-

- and was abruptly punched in the sternum by an invisible iron fist. She reeled backwards, coughing and gasping, bending over to catch her breath and steady her nerves. She hadn't seen it coming, hadn't even realized she had opened herself up to Snoke's defensive retaliation.

She was wrong.

"You know why you are here."

It wasn't a question; it was an open-ended statement, to which Rey felt absolutely no inclination responding. Regaining her composure despite the twinge that ached in her chest from the unforeseen blow, she slowly straightened her back. Set her jaw. Clenched her teeth. Released her fingers to lie limply at her sides. Breaths in through her nose, out through her mouth. Centering…centering the Force. Feeling it flow through her, from her toes to her knees, up to her belly, coursing through her chest and down her arms, leaching up her neck and into her head.

Calming her. Recalibrating her.

She reminded herself: There is no emotion. There is peace.

"Peace is a lie. There is only passion."

Rey's eyes shot open. Snoke had entered her mind, and she hadn't even known.

She could feel panic rising in her stomach, and the only thing she could think to do to keep the panic at bay was to continue with the memorized mantra learned under the tutelage of Luke Skywalker. It had always brought her calmness when she needed it most.

She closed her eyes again.

There is no ignorance. There is knowledge –

"Enough."

And with that word, Rey was flung from her own mind – her train of thought gone, her center missing, she was a spinning object without an epicenter, careening unstable and unrestricted. She couldn't find herself. She couldn't meet her own mind. She screamed out, frightened and frustrated, her privacy and sanity completely debased. Her head exploded with pain as her body burned with powerful memories. Memories that elicited emotions she had spent months burying. These emotions were too dangerous - Master Skywalker referred to them as Dark Feelings – and they could encompass one's soul, devouring one's mindset until it was completely opaque.

She was screaming, pleading for the transport to come back. She could feel the rough insides of the AT-AT underneath her fingertips as she ran them along the slate-colored wall, covered in off-white markings meant to count the days since she was left. Counting the days until her family came back. To hold her. To love her. To rescue her. To save her from the core-wrenching loneliness she felt each day. She felt the arid dryness of Jakku fill her lungs, snuffing out her breath and her hope and her youth.

"Abandoned at such a young age. Against your will. What a pity," Snoke's mocking voice echoed in her mind.

Not her mind. It wasn't her mind anymore. She was an outsider looking in, a third party, without control or will or influence.

Her mouth filled with sand as the other scavenger pushed her face deeper and deeper into Kelvin Ridge. He sat on her back, straddling her, pinning her arms so she couldn't move. She could hear his counterpart rifling through what was rightfully hers, parsing out what was worth taking and what had no value. Stealing her salvage. Her salvage; her only hope to eat, after not being awarded more than a quarter portion over the past four days.

She screamed louder; they laughed harder.

"Starving, alone, bullied." Snoke's voice paused. "Weak."

She stood there, watching as Kylo Ren cut down Han Solo. Emotionless, callously, unsympathetic. She screamed, screamed so loudly and so violently she felt bile rise up in her throat. And even after the saber had pierced his heart, Solo's hand rose up to lovingly caress the cheek of his son, as if to tell him it was alright, it was forgiven…

"Watching as Ren took away the only father you ever knew. Standing there. Helpless," sneered Snoke. "Were you not so feeble, perhaps Solo would be alive today."

A warm liquid flowed into her mouth, which she quickly identified as blood. She had been biting through her bottom lip. But she could feel no pain.

She could feel nothing.

Snoke spoke again.

"Your entire life has been beyond your control. You have been left behind. Hurt. Underestimated. Flung aside. Deemed useless."

Rey, suddenly in sync with her surroundings, realized her mind was coming back under her purview. She grabbed onto it, bringing it close, holding it away, secret and safe, from anyone and anything. From anybody. She felt it become one with her again. Her mind. Her memories. Hers.

"You deserve no sympathy. You did it to yourself. You were patient. You were kind. You were forgiving. You were hopeful. You were foolish. You were complacent. And you were powerless."

She was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down her brow. She vaguely realized she was hunched over, her hands on her knees. Ren was now behind her and off to her left, in the shadows. She could hear his breathing quicken, could feel his pulse pounding.

He knew what was coming.

And so did she.

"No," she heard herself growl.

She felt Ren stiffen, his breath catching in his throat.

Snoke chuckled, the short laughs reverberating off of the hard walls of the room and inundating Rey's ears, spirit, awareness.

There was nothing humorous about what he had said. But she knew as well as he did: every word, every single word, was true.

A roar erupted from her soul, culminating in a scream from her mouth. Years of oppression, years of solitude, years of anguish, years of jealousy and yearning and simple alienation. She'd had enough of everything, of everyone…

…especially of Snoke.

Her body acted before her brain. Her legs locked underneath her shoulders, she peered upward at the grotesque Supreme Leader. Her face contorted with emotion.

"Enough!" she commanded.

The damage was instantaneous.

The perfect dark tile began to tremble and shift underneath her. She could sense Ren's alarm and immediately felt her own as the ground upheaved viciously, splitting in half. Beginning at her feet, the crevasse propelled forward, striking the structure upon which the projection of Snoke sat with such potency, the stone cracked and crumbled, severing the hologram connection and plummeting the room one again into darkness.

Rey could hear nothing but her own breathless gasping. Her mind raced but could not form cohesive thoughts. She had never felt power and shame coupled so closely within her own soul, and she wanted to laugh maniacally and sob hysterically.

She was in pain.

But she enjoyed it. It surged through her, burning her insides.

Purifying her.

"Are you happy?" she croaked to Ren, sounding less like a powerful Forcetress and exactly like a scavenger from Jakku. She could feel intense burning behind her eyes, refusing to blink in order to hedge off the trail of tears that would surely follow. She stared at her jagged fracture on the ground, listening to small dustings of the stone chair crumble to the once pristine floor.

She heard him approach her, stopping mere inches from her face. Rey was shocked to hear the click-hiss as Ren removed his mask. Dragging her eyes away from her destructive creation, she looked up into his dark eyes. They were swimming with hundreds of emotions.

Shock.
Uncertainty.
Suspicion.
Wariness.
Remorse.
Elation.

Fascination.

She searched his face for any semblance of emotion, and seconds later received it in the form of a smirk, the left side of his mouth curving upward despite himself. And she knew the answer before it left his lips.

"Very."

Author's Note: I am brand new to the Fanfiction world, and this is my first story. I truly hope you enjoyed. Please do not hesitate to leave reviews – whether wholly positive or constructively negative, both are exceptionally welcome and taken seriously. If you wish to PM me, it is equally as encouraged – happy to discuss anything and everything with all of you.

Thank you all so very, very much for reading!