Chapter 11: Proximity

Rey greeted the first training day of many weeks to come with eager energy and healthy apprehension. She had full trust in Luke, and believed he would prove to be the teacher she needed. The data he had given her to read had only set her interest to concrete goal.

Rey would be a Sentinel. She was a scavenger by nature, and would prove to be just as efficient a reclamation Jedi. Sentinels were the ground troops and the infiltrators. They were the blank faces and the voices in your head. They were the smugglers and the politicians. And most importantly, they were the balance. Rey needed this balance beyond all else, and she was adamant in this pursuit.

Luke noticed her fuelled stride and acknowledged her decision.

He was happy that she had found something to fan the flames of her intent other than the emotion she felt towards his nephew. Rey was inclined to agree with him, but this did not diminish her disposition towards the darksiders in question in the slightest.

Then Luke surprised her again by taking his old lightsaber from her, and buttoning it up in a leather wrap. He insisted she use her staff instead, and Rey happily complied, still weary of the saber. The fact that he preferred she be more in practice with a double-handed weapon was just a convenient agreement to fall back on.

But Luke was not so easily satisfied. He warned her that while she would start preliminary training with the staff, soon she would move onto a double-bladed warsword to practice with blades that could actually hurt the handler. And she would not stop there. No, she would also become proficient in one-handed and dual-wielding, but she would start with what she was used to.

At her slightly nervous expression, Luke cited his promise to not let her leave unprepared, and she had to begrudgingly agree.

Then, they set to work. Luke outfitted Rey with some jury-rigged energy shields should his timing be off, and made sure they were fully operational. They picked a spot in the training yard, and that was the end of all preparation.

Rey did not quite know what to expect of training, but Luke just kept astonishing her. He did not grab her hands and put them in the correct hold, nor did he slowly step her through the lightsaber forms. Oh no, he fought her, and when she would fumble, he would correct her posture and poise as it happened.

When Rey could not quite get herself in position for an adequate block, Luke would tell her how to alter her footing to better whip back, her staff now easily following the lines of her motion. Thus he cited the Shii-Cho method, oldest of the forms, as well as Soresu. Adapted, naturally, to fit her use of a staff.

She struggled to get it right, often losing her balance and falling to the ground, but Luke was a patient Master. Even when Rey wordlessly yelled at herself in frustration, all Luke did was pluck her staff from her hands and sit her down along with him on the grass. Then he would try lead her through meditation. Rey was ashamed to admit her mind kept being drawn to her seeming ineptitude, but Luke would assure her it was only normal to struggle at first.

Rey took comfort in his words, but somehow she was sure Kylo Ren did not struggle as she did with simple footwork when he began. She would need to focus, she would need to calm herself. Luke only allowed them to start up combat again once Rey was unruffled once more.

This time, he spoke more to her, and introduced elements of the Ataru style, aiding with the acrobatic nature required for the double-blade.

Yes, Rey faltered a lot, but with this hybridised form she could feel the difference and knew that, finally she was falling into step. Oh, she made many mistakes, but never once did Luke get frustrated, and the shields remained unused. He never failed in his timing.

But as good as he was, Rey could not shake the feeling that something was missing. There was something she craved in his instruction that simply was not there. She could not figure out what it was, but she knew for certain that Luke's training was much preferable to whatever Kylo Ren must have had planned for her.


The man in question had begun his day in a similar fashion, striding confidently towards the amphitheatre where his Master's latest challenge waited, but there was no enthusiasm in his heart. Only an all-consuming determination to become better, no matter the cost.

The sky beyond the arches of the walkway he crossed was black, and beyond that scarred with flashes of sickly green. It was not dark with night, as one would expect, but with noxious clouds and fire lit atmosphere caused by the cracked and tortured planet below. Kylo Ren did not know which planet it was. He never knew. But it most certainly reminded him of the Malachor V of legend, where the planet was ripped so as show its awful core and thus taint the skies.

As with the legend of Malachor, it was a planet of Darkness, practically pulsing with the chaotic energy of being torn to the wick.

He hurt along with the planet, but Kylo Ren did not so much as wince any longer as his chest wound periodically wept blood, the pain now a constant presence. As with all injury, he welcomed it. Without pain, there would be peace.

And peace was a lie.

There was only passion.

Strength. Victory.

Kylo Ren recited the code with every breath he took, his mind only wandering from it when he prodded his haphazard mental block.

It sickened him.

Oh, it appalled him that Rey's reach extended so far as to distract him from what was important at hand.

And the block itself? Well, that was simply pathetic.

It was about as much of a deterrent as a 'Keep Out' sign to a thief, and just as ineffective. But he hoped in vain that it would be enough to keep Rey out of his mind, and hesitant to call on him. He only prayed to whomever would care to listen that she had not noticed him the other night, seeing her panic, and reacting in a way that would disgrace him in the sight of his Master.

Such weakness.

Kylo Ren ignited his erratic saber before he so much as crossed the threshold of the amphitheatre. And what a good thing it was, for there were easily over twenty Elite acolytes of Snoke's dotted around the room, and three of them rushed him as he entered.

He cut them down with ease, decapitating the third, and hungrily regarding the others as they readied their weapons, completely unfazed by their comrade's head rolling across the floor.

There were no friends here.

Never friends. Only a means to an end. In all honesty, it made him ache for something long lost. But he had made his choice, and though his father's murder had not born the desired effect, he would continue to cut down any fodder his Master sent to him till there was nothing of his soul left to bare the persistent Light.

He never knew how these combat sessions would go, only that amphitheatre fights were restricted to weapons alone. No Force. He never knew what these faceless minions' orders were. All Kylo Ren knew was that he had to survive his time on whatever planet he wound up on. Sometimes he would be attacked in his sleep, other times his food would be poisoned. Each time he was pushed to his limits to survive, and this time would be no different. And Snoke had been truthful. Kylo Ren had become stronger with every Dark planet he survived. Only, not enough. He still felt that unbearable call.

An acolyte nicked him across the back in his distraction. Kylo Ren carved the man clean in halve across the middle.

The Elite troops advanced relentlessly, dodging and dancing around him, and targeting every lapse in defence they saw.

As time progressed, they landed more hits.

Kylo's concentration was slipping, and he was very aware of the cause.

That obstinate call of the Light, and it took the form of her.

He increased his ferocity tenfold as red coloured his vision. He hacked the victim of his loathing-filled wrath to excessive pieces, the acolyte having died on the first blow.

Rey.

He had snuffed out his father's life with surprising ease once he had mustered the resolution to get there. Could he ever do that to Rey?

He knew the answer, even as he obliterated the rest of the acolytes in anger, in futile hopes that his heart would change.

Kylo Ren left the amphitheatre mostly as he expected he would. His feet dragged on the way back to his chambers, and he knew he left a massacre behind him.

Tomorrow, he would do it all again with new parameters set out for the acolytes. New parameters he would, again, not know.

He was tired, he was battered, and sleep called to him as a siren's song.

But Kylo Ren would not sleep tonight.

He would not allow himself to let his guard down.

He convinced himself it was for the acolytes. He knew better.

And so two weeks passed. Two weeks and Kylo Ren's chest wound started to bind together.

Two weeks, and Kylo Ren kept tearing it open again every time he thought of her. And how she was no doubt training with Luke at this very moment.

Stagnating, he scoffed to himself. Stagnating under Luke's eternally tranquil hand.

He did not feel jealousy. Not at all.

He tore his wound open again, and Force-crushed a nearby acolyte in the throes of his bitter fury.

The other soldiers simply watched their now seemingly-boneless brother in arms fall limply to the floor, and then continued to wait for the next session.

He hated them and their cold veneer. He hated their detached manner. He hated that they were everything that he should be, and they did not even have the gift of the Force.

Two weeks, and Kylo Ren struggled to old his composure when his Master called an audience with him.

"So the girl has found Master Skywalker, it would appear." Snoke did not sound angry. Snoke did not sound anything, in fact. It riled Kylo.

He knew this from her panic stricken night. He had not told his Master.

"This is no surprise to you." And it seemed his Master could see it.

Kylo Ren offered a single, strained nod.

"Twice now, you have let her slip through your fingers. Twice now, you have failed to deal with your old master. Let your every breath be proof enough that I see potential in you, boy. Your continued existence is a most generous gift from me in the face of your impotence."

Kylo Ren stared straight ahead, fighting far too hard against his own temptation to brush the bond just once more.

He knew it was madness. She was everything that was poisoning him, and he had done it all to himself, even back all those years ago.

Could he ever reach that point, that precipice, where he could extinguish her life just like he had his father's?

He would do his best to turn her first. The Dark would benefit much from her allegiance and untapped power.

He would help her see.

And if she could not-

"You will follow her when next you catch even a vague hint of her, Ren. You will follow her and complete your mission. I will not have Luke Skywalker breathing for much longer. There is much the First Order has yet to do to target the Resistance, but you will not join them after your time here. You will find that wretched girl and kill her would-be master-"

Snoke's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and…fear?

"-And you will bring that girl before me. Alive." The manner in which his Master said 'alive' made it sound like the grand meeting in question would be the last time Rey would be so.

Snoke did not wait for an answer. He did not need to.

Kylo Ren was a servant of the dark, and he would obey his Master.

Even if it meant her eventual murder by his traitorous hands.

Rey.

He had brought it on himself.

Kylo Ren felt nothing as two newer Knights of Ren stepped from the shadows, and he activated his saber once more. After all, bloodletting was an old friend. His only quarrel was that his control over the bond barrier was crumbling.

As he fought, so his hold slipped.

He needed to find strength.


Two weeks, Rey grunted to herself as she battled with Luke once more.

Two weeks and she was exceptionally proud of her progress. Luke even more so.

Rey had gotten the hang of both Shii-Cho and Soresu, and she was fighting with a cortosis-weave warsword. Sure, she bore a few new scars from accidentally having cut herself while sparring, but Luke had quickly followed those accidents up with a new kind of meditation that fascinated Rey.

He had taught her how to introspectively follow her own body's presence in the Force. She had begun to clearly sense every muscle, every organ, and deeper still every fibre, nerve, and blood cell.

Then he had taught her how to heal any damage done to them, resulting in unusually muted silvery scars that did not hint at all to the deep gash that might have been there before.

Astonishingly, she had grasped the concept rather quickly with his guidance, and for once, his peaceful manner had not bothered her.

That, however, was the only time when his disposition did not drive her insane.

Luke still did not so much as graze her in battle, even now while he was introducing elements of Niman to her- a form based on double-bladed's attack-centric nature if she remembered her readings correctly- not once did he activate the energy shields even though she practically fell into his saber a number of times. It incensed her.

Rey growled at the thought, an in frustration, she spun her warsword across her body. Luke yelped out in shock as he was knocked back off his feet and flung rather unceremoniously to the other side of the courtyard.

Chewbacca applauded.

Rey shot the Wookiee a dirty look, but he continued unapologetically while she pulled herself out of shock and ran to Luke's aid.

To her surprise, he was grinning at her as she helped him up.

"Well done Rey! While I don't entirely approve of frustration being used to fuel your discovery and understanding of the Niman form," he did not sound as disapproving as he made out, "I am very pleased that you have come to this point so quickly!"

Rey was confused.

"But, the Force-?"

"Rey, Niman is a style that incorporates use of the Force along with the fighting form, as it helps balance out the heft of the blade to deliver swift blows-" Rey rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. She would have to pay more attention to those holocrons, and not read them as she was nodding off. "- now I know we've only just been focusing on swordsmanship in combat thus far, but you used the Force in such harmony with your movements, I think you're ready for us to advance to combining it with all your forms."

Luke continued talking excitedly, and it was catching.

Once Rey had recovered from the shock of just how naturally that burst of movement had come, she wondered if combining emotion with her abilities was really all that bad. If anything, it seemed to make it more natural and easy.

She jerked her attention back to Luke as he re-ignited his lightsaber, and gestured for her to attack first again. She held her own rather well this time around, but gradually felt herself become more and more fatigued.

Rey became genuinely alarmed when her entire body began to ache in gradually-increasing intensity.

It started slowly, then fire burned through her veins all at once, and her head split in agony as she fell to the floor with a scream.

Rey vaguely heard Luke call out her name, and those might have been Chewie's paws trying to wrench her hands from her head where they were clawed.

White hot pain seared through her left shoulder, and darkness clouded her vision.

The onslaught proved far too much, and Rey collapsed in the once-quiet courtyard.


Kylo Ren was kneeling on the floor, his fingers dripping with thick blood after having torn his wound open afresh, and dug in deep. He had needed strength. His hold on the block in his mind had slipped away completely, and the Knight that was left was rather capable. So, Kylo Ren had sought for strength the only way he knew how.

Now, two mauled bodies lay before him as viscous crimson soaked his robes, seeping over his chest.

It was not lost on Kylo Ren that the pain lancing through his head was not only his own.

He could not bring himself to scratch into the gaping gouge again to quell the guilt rising in his chest, and tasting of bile.