Invisible Light
Chapter Nine
Ren awoke with a start, head pounding. He reached out through the Force to assess his bearings, unable to make sense of it. An uninhabited planet, an escape pod… when had he needed an escape pod? Ren tried to unbuckle himself, forcing his stiff arms to cooperate. His left hand was useless: bloodstained and swollen, it was a mess of broken bone and gashes. The harsh scent of iron invaded his senses. A headache was beating against his skull, making it almost impossible to focus. Ren reached over his head toward the escape hatch with his good hand, but it was stuck.
Kriff.
He turned his hand to a fist, pounding in the tempered glass door until it finally gave way. Ren climbed out slowly, stiffly, fighting against the sharp pain in his head as he moved to take in his surroundings. He slid ungraciously out of the pod, landing hard on his injured side. Ren swore under his breath, stiffly turning over until his back was to the pod.
It was nothing but grey rocky desert for miles, jagged and empty. Ren got to his feet, his good hand gingerly clutching his side while he held the other uselessly at his side. A cool breeze rustled through his hair, and his parachute flapped quietly, still attached to the escape pod. In the distance dark clouds churned, threatening rainfall. Ren tried to reach out through the Force, to find any sign of life on the barren planet, but there was nothing as far as he could see.
He was alone.
Ren reached back inside the escape pod, snatching the radio. He tried the dials, jabbing buttons, but there was no signal. Frustrated, Ren threw the receiver and leaned against the chair, sighing. He shut his eyes, willing his brain to focus, to remember how he had gotten here, but there was nothing. Just a strange, silent emptiness. It was as though a vital piece of his memory had been cut from his mind. The quiet was unnerving.
Ren searched through the emergency supply box in the back of the escape pod, rifling through the equipment: blankets, powdered rations, water filters, fire starters… nothing of use for Ren to get himself off this planet. The emergency radio was distinctly missing. He slammed the lid shut, a strange sense of unease taking over. Something didn't feel right.
Ren climbed out of the pod and looked around once again. Lightning flashed in the distance, and the air was warm and electric. He had no recollection of this planet, no memory of why he was there at all. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to push past the rising panic and focus. He tried to reach out to Snoke, to the familiar connection he had grown to rely on, but even that was quiet.
As Ren walked, his hand instinctively went to his hip, toward his weapon, but nothing was there. Ren froze, searching his person for his lightsaber. Finding nothing, he ran back toward the escape pod. He tore everything out, but knew in the back of his mind that he wouldn't find it.
Ren never went anywhere without his weapon. The habit had been drilled into him by both Luke Skywalker and the Supreme Leader. The only explanation that fit was that someone had taken it from him.
And banished him to an empty planet with no escape, severing any connection Ren had to another living being.
Panic and anger surged through Ren, rising into his throat and threatening to spill over. Unlike the red hot anger Ren had known his whole life, the same anger that had fueled his journey into the Dark side, this came from the secret holes inside of him. It was heavy with the weight of abandonment, threatening to swallow him whole. Though he had no working memory of it, Ren instantly knew what had happened to him. There was only one possible explanation for the missing weapon, the backwater planet, and the empty silence in his mind.
Snoke had done this to him.
The pod was suddenly launched across the rocky desert, groaning as it soared through the air and crashing several meters away. Fueled by self-loathing and rejection, Ren reached out to the Force and picked it up again, this time throwing it further. The windshield on the pod shattered on impact and the reinforced door caved in. Ren clenched his fists and an invisible force crushed the pod, warping metal and driving it deep into the ground. His anger was suffocating.
Ren screamed with rage, unable to stand it, unable to endure the emptiness in his bones and the self-loathing that coursed through him. He hated Snoke—he hated the Supreme Leader for abandoning him, for casting him aside so easily. But as furious and full of loathing as Ren was, he hated himself more. He had allowed Snoke to warp his mind, to give up everything and be turned into a monster, only to be cast aside like an unwanted toy. Ren had sacrificed everything for Snoke, and the Supreme Leader still rejected him. Ren had no home, no allegiance, and no family. Even his humanity was gone. Without Snoke guiding his thoughts and manipulating his emotions, Ren's senses were truly alive for the first time.
Ren sank into the ground, consumed with horror and utterly defeated. A suffocating weight was building in his chest, a buzzing coursing in the back of his mind.
He was alone, now more than ever.
"Don't be discouraged," Luke told her as Rey peeled herself off the ground. "I fared far worse when training alone."
Rey sighed exasperatedly, frustrated with herself. She had returned to Ach-to just that morning, albeit reluctantly. "I just feel like I should be so much better than this. I'm out there," she added, gesturing to the sky. "fighting, and it's like I'm just playing pretend with the Force."
"It's all in your head," Luke reminded her. "Have you been—"
"Meditating, yeah, I know."
"Successful meditation requires that you shut the world out and let only the Force in," Luke told her. "It is an exercise in patience every day." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Are you still having your dreams?"
"Huh?" Rey replied distractedly. She brushed her hands on her pants and settled herself back into place, balancing precariously on a narrow beam. "Er, yeah. Not quite like before. In fact, I haven't felt Ky—Ben in my head for days. It's like he's just disappeared from the universe."
Luke was uncharacteristically silent at that. Rey looked up from her folded hands to stare at her teacher. She straightened up on the beam, standing at ease. "Has he disappeared?"
"It is difficult to say," Luke replied evasively. "His presence in the Force is…murky."
Rey frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It's no matter," Luke replied, gesturing that Rey should continue her exercise. "I will let you focus on the task at hand."
Rey lit her practice lightsaber, trying to fight the bitter disappointment that it wasn't a proper one.
"Have you given any thought to my question?"
"Which one?" Rey asked, wracking her brain for what she had forgotten.
"What is your greatest fear?"
"Oh."
Luke waited patiently.
"I don't know yet," Rey replied as a non-answer to disguise the fact that she really had forgotten all about it.
"Well, what comes to mind?"
Rey thought. "Being alone on Jakku forever," she said flatly, her face taking on a faraway expression. "These…dreams I've been having. About my family."
"Abandonment," Luke observed. "The fear that you have both been abandoned and have left your family behind."
Rey turned to look at Luke, the lightsaber forgotten in her hand. "There's a dark voice that follows me… tempting me. I know right know that it's the Dark, but when it happens, it's like… nothing else matters."
Luke pursed his lips in thought. "Meditate on it. Let me know when you have your answer."
Rey had spent two weeks with the Resistance, repairing fighter ships and watching on in jealousy as her friends went about their missions. General Organa was adamant Rey complete more of her training before she was willing to let her do anything more dangerous than replace a battered fuel cell. Rey had never imagined herself to feel disappointed about returning to Ahch-to, but did her best to disguise it from Master Luke.
Master Luke himself seemed just as distracted. He would disappear for long stretches of time, leaving Rey to practice her forms and meditate alone.
Days went by, then weeks, and before Rey knew it, almost half a year had passed since the events that first took her away from Jakku. The creeping sensation that had plagued her for months—the feeling that Kylo Ren could see inside her mind—had been absent for weeks, replaced instead by the same series of odd dreams—dreams of a nameless planet burning, of a dark shadow following her across the galaxy.
Eventually General Organa had allowed Rey to accompany Resistance fighters on recovery missions one week for every three that she trained with Luke; this meant very little chance of actual danger, which seemed to be a prerequisite for the General allowing Rey anywhere. Rey's job was to help scavenge damaged ship parts—First Order, Resistance, smuggler, and neutral—and repair what she could. Usually the parts were already collected and hauled into a designated pick-up area by an HTV or sandcrawler, but once in a while the crew was pressed for time and picked up vital parts in a fresh battlefield.
Rey had been matched up with the crew of Rogue One, whose captain was a cold and quiet woman. The crew carried an odd weight about them, and it wasn't until they had completed half a dozen missions together that Rey finally learned their First Mate had been killed in a mission gone awry in Anthan Prime not long ago.
Rey tried to steel herself against the overwhelming weight the destruction of war brought, but she found she was less convincing than Finn, who had spent a lifetime schooling his emotions. She was unable to stop herself from picturing the faces of the Resistance members shot down on missions, and never got used to the suffocating smell of iron that accompanied bloodshed. When she closed her eyes at night, she wasn't sure if the scenes of battle were her own memories or those of Kylo Ren.
Several times Rey accompanied Nomi Sisk and the crew of Rogue One to pick up black market supplies from Outer Rim territories, and even talked Chewbacca into allowing her to co-pilot the Falcon on similar journeys. It was becoming more and more dangerous to fly into the Outer Rim as the influence of the First Order continued to spread, but the Resistance always managed to keep its head just above water.
Eventually Rogue One was scheduled to travel to Takodana, a mission that simultaneously excited and terrified Rey. She wanted to see Maz again, but she couldn't fight the memories of her first and only trip to the neutral planet.
Their ship was fueled and ready, and Nomi Sisk had even allowed Rey to sit in as co-pilot. For the first time since she had known her, Rey could sense a weight lifting on the Captain's shoulders, and her excitement about returning to Takodana was infectious.
Maz's old castle had been destroyed by the First Order months before, but she had taken up residence in a new establishment carved into a mountain face on the other side of the expansive lake. It seemed like a lifetime had passed; Maz's new fortress was buzzing with the usual activity among smugglers and travelers. Rogue One hardly had time to socialize once landing, however—they had several negotiations scheduled with other smugglers operating in the Neutral Territories. Nomi took the lead on this one while Rey and the others waited in the background, catching up on news in the galaxy and otherwise killing time.
Eventually night fell, and while Rey was perfectly content to retire for the evening, the bar was suddenly alive with music and chatter. The crew helped themselves to dinner and the infamous elba, allowing themselves to relax for the first time in weeks. Rey was just about to separate herself from the fun when Nomi led her by the elbow toward the main dining area.
"Don't tell me you're tired already," the Captain told her, a small smirk playing around her lips.
"I'm exhausted," Rey admitted, though she allowed herself to be led back into the cacophony.
Nomi pulled out a chair at a corner table and gestured for Rey to sit before taking a place next to her. "Maz wants to catch up a little," she told Rey, just loud enough to be heard over the general chatter of the pub.
Rey—who hadn't seen a single familiar face all day aside from the crew—perked up a little.
Suddenly a tray was set down roughly between them, and tiny hands shoved it toward the center of the table. Nomi steadied the decanter of elba while Rey turned to see a familiar short figure take a seat across from them.
"What a day," Maz muttered, more to herself than to them. She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I take it your business has been successful," she added, looking toward Nomi.
"For the most part," she replied, half shrugging as she poured everyone a cup. "The General should be pleased."
Maz readjusted her lenses and turned to look at Rey, who couldn't help but feel oddly childlike under her scrutinizing gaze. "And you!" Maz declared, gesturing openly at Rey. "How is that lightsaber?"
"Uh, well, Luke has it," Rey said sheepishly. "He's training me, though, so maybe one day—"
"Why does Luke have it?" Maz interrupted.
Rey hesitated. Nomi looked between the two women with interest. "Er, well it's his, and—"
"That lightsaber called to you," Maz declared.
"Well—I mean—I've hardly trained enough to count as a Padawan," Rey said quickly, feeling herself blush. "I don't think I'm experienced enough—"
"Even though you fought Kylo Ren with it?" Nomi brought up, eyebrows raised. "I'm pretty sure you're strong enough—"
"But not trained," Rey said firmly. She felt oddly protective of Luke's style of teaching, even though she herself often questioned his methods. "Not enough."
"That lightsaber has seen two rightful masters," Maz said slowly. "Anakin Skywalker, and then his son, Luke. And many more hands have watched over it since, but none who could rightfully claim it. Until you."
Rey hesitated, frowning. She looked between Nomi and Maz, who were both watching her with interest. "But why me?"
Maz hesitated. "Sometimes they just know," she said cryptically. "A lightsaber is a very special weapon, amplifying the powers of a Force-user. A vessel, so to speak, capable of great deeds or incredible destruction. That particular lightsaber was built by Anakin before he became Darth Vader."
"So shouldn't it call to Luke? Or even Kylo Ren?" Rey asked, almost repulsed by this knowledge.
"Well, you know that Vader was the Chosen One, right?" Nomi piped up.
Rey looked at her dumbly. "The what?"
"The legend… the origin of the Jedi, the Chosen One brings balance to the force," Nomi said, watching Rey's reaction carefully. "You've never heard of it?"
"Like I said, I've barely started my training," Rey mumbled, uncomfortable with her own ignorance.
"It's… a very old story," Maz finally said. "The oldest in the galaxy, about the origin of the Dark side and the Light, the Sith and the Jedi."
Rey leaned forward, her full attention on Maz, who seemed reluctant to give it away. Nomi took a steady sip of her wine, watching the older woman intently.
"The Old Legends say that there were two children who lived alone on an island, surrounded by a vast ocean," Maz began. "On that island was a tree, and the tree gave them life. As the children grew older, they realized that the tree gave them strange powers—powers to read thoughts, heal wounds, control beasts of land and sea, and move objects... Eventually others heard of these two children; first people came from the other islands, and then from all over the galaxy, to see them…
"Now, the children had discovered there were two ways to access these powers—the Light and the Dark," she continued. "The child of Light gained strength and intuition, but became cold. The child of Dark gained focus, but also anger. The children kept their secret of the tree, returning to it each night to reconnect to the Force. In time the children argued which path made them stronger, and during one of those arguments, the child of Darkness killed his brother. He was horrified by what he had done, and buried the other child at the foot of the tree. He left the island, overcome with the power of the Dark side.
But the child of Light, buried at the roots, became one with the tree, and gained life once more. He was transformed, and spoke to the people who came to mourn his grave... He warned that the powers given to them could be used for good or evil, and that all who would touch the tree would gain knowledge of the Force." Maz took a steading breath, then added, "These early Force-users were the first Jedi. They believed that the souls of both boys would die and be reborn in different lifetimes—different genders, races, languages—and each would push against the other, locked in an eternal battle for balance. If they ever met, one would always have to kill the other.
"Well, thousands of Jedi have been born and trained through the millennia, and the same can be said for the Dark side users. Often a practitioner is identified as the new incarnation of either the Child of Light or Darkness—the Chosen One. Many throughout the galaxy consider Darth Vader to have been the most recent Chosen One, but it is always disputed because there is no way to know for certain."
"How does anyone figure out who the Chosen One is?" Rey asked. She was leaning so far across the table that her chest was pressed against the surface, her face looking up earnestly into Maz's.
"Well, there's a few markers," Maz said heavily. "The individual obviously must be a powerful Force-user. It's also widely accepted that they must have strong potential for both Light and Dark—it gets complicated when you talk about just how much. People disagree widely there, even in the Church of the Force. And then, even deeper still, there are arguments about the Midichlorian count, family legacy, and so on."
There was a long silence as Rey took in the information. She could feel Maz watching her carefully across the table.
"This is all legend, you know," Maz reminded her sternly. "There's no proof that the tree ever existed, or that it granted Force powers. And there's certainly no real proof of a Chosen One."
"But if it's true…" Rey said slowly, brow furrowed in thought. "If Darth Vader really was the Chosen One… why does his lightsaber call to me?"
"Maybe you're it," Nomi suggested, sounding half-serious. "You have to complete the prophecy and bring back the Jedi."
Rey snorted at that. "Definitely not."
"Well, the child in the story was a powerful Force-user who didn't have parents," Nomi continued, wiggling her eyebrows at Rey. "Sound familiar?"
"It's not to be taken literally," Maz said, regaining control of the conversation. "Though why Luke never told you the Jedi Origin Story is odd… As for the lightsaber, we may never know," she explained simply, waving a hand. "The Force is a mysterious thing. But it calls to you, and you alone are the rightful owner. Finish your training with Luke—you may give him the confidence he needs to bring back the Jedi. And if we're going to defeat the evil reach of the First Order, then we're going to need them."
Rey hesitated, looking between the two women. "What if… what if Luke doesn't train anyone else? What if he really is the last Jedi?"
Maz fixed her a long, knowing look, her eyes hugely magnified by her spectacles. "My child… Luke does not train you for nothing."
For days, anger and self-loathing warped Kylo Ren's mind. He fantasized about all the ways he wanted to kill Snoke, and dreamed about destroying the regime he had helped the Supreme Leader build. It was all he could think about, and Ren was sure he would go mad from it. The blinding need for revenge was the only force that kept Ren from entertaining darker thoughts of destroying himself.
Eventually the swirling rage settled heavily in Ren's chest, leaving his mind free to focus on his dire situation. With no outlet, the nagging sting of rejection ate away at the secret holes inside of Ren. He spent his days wandering the barren planet aimlessly, stopping only long enough to refuel his body through rest and food. Nights were spent gazing at the stars, trying to orient himself with familiar systems and constellations. Ren's only company in the galaxy was his own loneliness, and the passing days forced him to come to terms with his new reality.
There had been enough rations in the escape pod to last several months, yet with no means of escape from the planet, the reality of starvation was omnipresent. To keep his mind occupied, Ren reached out to the Force, pushing his boundaries further and further for signs of life. He had discovered fresh water and bitter but edible vegetation this way. While Ren could survive on such meager provisions, his body would eventually deteriorate.
The planet was a desert wasteland, a swathe of carved and jagged canyons and rocky floor. The planet had the appearance of having once been host to a powerful and turbulent ocean, but nearly all the water had disappeared. Streams changed course by the day, dictated by the ice flow that sat in the highlands miles and miles away. The sun sat low in the sky, casting long, low shadows across a spattering of ancient craters, scars from a violent past.
After the initial rush of anger had flamed out, Ren made quick work of bandaging his injured hand and collecting the few emergency supplies the Supreme Leader had been kind enough to leave him. He ripped the First Order tracking device out of his utility belt, chucking it as far as he could across the desert.
Ren soon lost track of the days—they all bled together, one constant rotation of time marked only by the rising and falling sun. He was no sooner getting off the planet than he was upon arrival. Eventually Ren made his way out of the canyons and into greener territory. Stiff grass and bare shrubbery dotted the hilly landscape as far as the eye could see. The air was much thinner at this altitude, and Ren found himself frequently short of breath as he drudged on. It wasn't long until the combined effects of low oxygen and starvation seemed to get the better of him, twisting his mind and making it difficult to think straight.
In the distance, however, was the constant lure of life: a tiny trading post, outfitted on the far side of the wasteland.
Ren was starving, dehydrated, and exhausted, but he forced himself on, driven by the same stubbornness that had allowed him to survive all of his near-miss encounters thus far in life. The fresh bruising that had formed on his ribs from the crash made it painful to breathe in the thin air; deprived of vital oxygen, Ren wondered if he was hallucinating the tiny village. The pain from his broken wrist had dulled, turning his senses into thick mud.
It was hours before Ren realized the ground underneath him was marred by tracks—transporters, ships, and footprints alike dotted the dusty surface. He felt his feet stop, his body threatening to collapse, as he looked down to study them. Their age was impossible to determine, but they all led in a single direction: forward.
With a stupendous effort, Ren picked up his feet and willed his body to keep moving forward. He made it about half a dozen meters before his balance slipped and he collapsed in the dusty ground, too tired to move.
Too tired to fight anymore.
