Rey dabbed at the dribble of vomit that clung obstinately to the corner of her bottom lip. She stumbled toward the sink in her nauseated state, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she splashed the cool water against her paling cheeks. It had only been three days since she and her companions had come out of lightspeed and first beheld the planet. But for Rey, the passing days had felt like weeks. From the moment they'd entered into the planet's orbit, she'd sensed the overwhelming darkness that emanated from the molten, rocky orb. Its aura was altogether intoxicating, as if she were living moment to moment with her head caught in a tiger's mouth, desperate for the creature to keep from slamming shut its jaws. It had rattled her senses to the point of physical illness.

Her companions, at least, were handling the ominous surroundings better than she, although not without consequence. Neither their resolve nor their faith in the general had waned, but the palpable sense of courage that had filled the Falcon with a contagious, unexpected optimism had shattered under the weight of their foreboding hideaway.

Leia had not been overly dramatic in asserting the degree of trust or difficulty involved in shuffling the meager remains of the rebellion off to its current locale. The mention of Mustafar was met with a shudder among even the more politically indifferent citizens of the galaxy. For the rebels, who were wholly more invested in the lore surrounding the legends of the Empire, it was more than just a cringe-worthy planet; it was akin to the very seat of darkness. But the faith of the party in the prudence and passion of the general was such that none spoke a word to her in protest.

In truth, the abandoned castle made for the most paradoxical safe haven imaginable. A vile, grotesque history seemed to permeate its odious walls like a fog hovering over a murky swamp. And yet, there was an irrefutable logic to the general's insistence that they seek harbor in the halls of her infamous father's former stronghold. Despite standing for decades without its Sith master, it remained well armed and fortified. The bowels of the fortress, though rife with the stench of violence and despair, were stocked to the brim with weapons fit not only for defense, but for siege as well. Its communications systems were likewise intact. But Rey sensed too that there was something else; some other element that attracted the general to this particular spot…

Rey.

Somehow, though she could scarcely claim to know when, his voice had become as familiar to her ear as her own. It rang out behind her now with the dreamy resonance of a brass bell, deep and lingering, yet gentle and invigorating as a cool zephyr. She clenched her fists until she felt her fingernails threaten to pierce her calloused palms. This was the second time since arriving at Mustafar that he had come to her. She met him the same way she had the time before, the same way that she had resolved to do every time forever, should the Force bond continue to thrust them together in this way: back turned, eyes closed, and relentlessly silent.

He called to her again; she concentrated on relaxing her face into the very picture of casual indifference. He must have stood within inches of her now because she could feel the warmth of his breath grazing the exposed skin of her alabaster neck. The familiar scent of him clawed at her senses: a subtle fusion of salt and musk and iron.

Rey.

No, no, no. Absolutely not. She'd be damned if she would give him the satisfaction of even the barest acknowledgement. She refused to so much as breathe in response now. Though it had not escaped her notice— had it eluded him?— that as wisps of his breath caressed her skin, she was powerless to keep rogue patches of fine hairs on her arms from standing fully erect.

She remained frozen in this state until she sensed that the connection had finally subsided. Cautiously opening her eyes once more, she thought for a moment that she'd caught a fleeting glimpse of his countenance reflected in the mirror before her; as ephemeral as the green flash of light that kissed the skies of a Jakku sunset.

Yes. She simply must have seen him for a brief moment before the connection dissipated. She had to believe that. Otherwise it only stood to reason that some part of her had merely wished to see him there, and that was a reality she was entirely unwilling to validate.

She turned her gaze to the pile of antiquated books in the corner of her chambers. She absolutely had to read the pilfered pages more voraciously. Surely there was something in there that could help her to shut down this twisted bond that the two of them were forced to share. Likewise, it had occurred to her after their first meeting that his power may be all the more poignant as long as she struggled to remain at ease in this dreadful place—this foothold of darkness.

The extended spell of uncompromising nausea had kept her largely confined to her room. Not only was excessive solitude unwelcome for a young woman who'd spent too much of her life in isolation, but she was keenly aware that the Force bond had a tendency to take hold when she found herself alone. It would be necessary for her to venture out more often in spite of the ailments that nagged at her if she wanted to avoid a surplus of additional encounters.

She made her way down the corridor toward the grand hall where the bulk of the remaining survivors were scattered about the room, absorbed in various tasks and chatting amicably as they went about their business. Just the sight of it was enough to lift her troubled spirits a bit. She even heard a chuckle or two amongst the murmur of voices; it boggled her mind that laughter could exist in a place so haunted by dark shadows of the past, but it was a comfort all the same. A friendly face caught her eye as she entered the room.

"Rey!" Finn gave her a warm smile and motioned her over to where he sat.

Whereas Rey had spent days struggling to combat the gloom of her surroundings, Finn looked almost completely unfazed. In stark contrast with the unsavory aura of the castle, Finn's spirit seemed to glow. Though a spark of concern overtook his face as Rey drew nearer to him.

"How are you doing, friend?" He inquired with a quick hug.

"Hanging in there, I suppose." It was, by and large, an honest answer. After all, it was important to keep her struggles in perspective. Many of the others in her party had endured much worse in recent days.

"I have good news!" His voice was peppered with the unmistakable lilt of delight. "Rose woke up! She's not off of bed rest yet, of course. But they think she's going to be okay!"

"I'm so glad," she replied with a soft smile. Any positive report was more than welcome under the given circumstances. And she noted that this snippet of information was a point of particular interest for her dear friend. She had ample questions about the nature of Finn's attachment to his new companion, but she ultimately thought it best not to pry.

A somewhat more somber look befell him as he continued. "General Leia has been asking for you."

Rey paused, surveying him for a moment before she began. "Something serious?"

"She didn't specify, but I would imagine so," Finn shrugged. "Honestly, what isn't serious in this place?" he added flatly. "I spent most of my life surrounded by the sights and sounds of the First Order. For the most part, I'm used to places like this. I can deal with it all right. But this is really on a whole other level."

Rey suppressed a shudder that threatened to sneak up her spine. Finn must have observed her discomfort.

"But I wouldn't worry, Rey." His assurances were noticeably forced, but it was enough of an effort to deflate her anxiousness for the moment.

She met his gesture with a half-hearted smile, returning to the matter at hand. "Where can I find her?"