I could feel the Force flowing through her as Rey skillfully manipulated the flight controls. It was remarkable: every thought, every movement guided by the ultimate power of the universe. To develop such an intimate relationship with the Force so quickly was exceedingly rare. I knew Skywalker could not have developed such skill in her so quickly; what I was seeing was unbridled potential. She was unique.

I wondered if Skywalker feared her power as much as he had feared mine.

Our speed dropped below two hundred kilometers per hour. Despite the deceleration, the forest canopy below was remained a blur. The ship shook slightly as the right wing clipped the top of an unusually tall tree. Rey corrected effortlessly, nudging the ship back towards the extended centerline of the clearing.

Rey raised the nose slightly, ensuring the inboard-rear section of the wings would be the first part of the ship to touch the ground and thus absorb the brunt of the impact. The speed continued to decay, but the clearing was coming up fast: if Rey wanted to land in it, she would need to force the shuttle to ground at a far higher speed than its designers had ever intended.

As we approached it became apparent the clearing was not an open grassy field: instead, it was filled with low growth bushes and numerous small trees. We passed over the edge of the canopy that ringed our landing zone and Rey aggressively reduced power. The shuttle settled abruptly; unconsciously I tightened my grip on the handhold by my chair.

Moments before touchdown Rey added power, slowing our descent once more. The vessel began to impact the small trees that were strewn beneath us; what began as an intermittent shudder became a steady vibration as we sunk lower in the brush. The wings contacted the ground with all the violence that would be expected. We were thrown violently forward as the searing sound of tearing metal reverberated throughout the cabin.

The shuttle continued to skid forward, a dull roar filling the flight deck as metal tore through dirt and rock. For several seconds it seemed as if we would reach the far end of the clearing and renter the forest. Then the ship jerk violently to the left and tilt forward. The left wing had caught on an outcropping of rocks that refused to yield.

The resulting motion forced the front of the ship downward, and the flight deck dug into the ground before us. The deck was now at a forty degree angle, and Marxon's limp form slid across the floor to rest against the forward bulkhead. Our view was obscured by plant matter and dirt that coated the windscreen, but it was obvious that the ship had finally come to a stop.

"Help me with him," Leia said to the copilot as she reached under one of the semi-conscious man's arms in an effort to lift him up. The young man did as instructed, and the three of them began moving towards the exit.

"What about him?" Rey asked me, pointing to the crumpled Knight.

I looked at Marxon. He was still, his masked face facing the sky, his robes crumpled around him. "He made his decisions," I said tersely.

"He's wounded and unconscious," Rey protested. "You can't just leave him!"

For a moment I locked eyes with her, processing her compassion. I doubted she would have given me such a reprieve on Starkiller base had it been within her power to assist me. Skywalker's weakness was already tainting her.

In one smooth motion I ripped Marxon's saber from my belt and ignited it. Twisting it towards my former student I jammed the red blade through his chest, easily cutting through the flesh. I stopped as I felt the resistance of the metal floor beneath him and held the blade steady for a moment before deactivating it, leaving a smoking hole bordered by burnt flesh.

Marxon coughed once, and then lay still.

"You… monster," Rey seethed.

"You were right," I said calmly. "If the Ties failed to neutralize him, he would have remained a threat."

"He was defenseless!"

"This is not the time to discuss my abhorrent lack of morality," I reminded her, an edge of irritation seeping into my voice. "We need to leave. Now."

Rey continued to soak in the sight of Marxon's remains for several second, then stepped towards the door. I followed quickly after her, Marxon's saber still grasped tightly in my hand.

As we passed through compartments we saw the dead troopers. Their masks hid the grotesque expressions of men who had been asphyxiated by the merciless vacuum of space. I could feel a wave of unease coming off Rey.

"We have a problem," Leia said as we approached the shuttle's exit.

"The main door is jammed," the copilot clarified. "It must have been damaged in the landing."

I ignited Marxon's saber once more and began to cut through the thick metal door. The superheated metal slowly gave way to my unyielding blade, but the time loss was substantial. I contemplated giving Rey a saber so she could assist, but there was not room for both of us to work in tandem: the task was mine alone.

The shuttle had built up a wave of soil and uprooted plants as it skidded across the ground. Not only was this wave of debris likely the cause of the door problem, it created an obstacle course around the ship. By the time we cleared it the sound of the Ties' ion engines was audible in the distance.

We were past the tree line by the time the fighters arrived. Unable to see us visually or on sensors they assumed we were still aboard our vessel. The sky erupted in weapons fire, the green laser blasts falling from the sky like a deadly rain. Each beam tore through the atmosphere like lightning, the sheer amount of energy in the air causing the temperature to rise perceptibly. The roar of thunder was constant, human ears were quickly overwhelmed by the intensity so it was felt more than heard.

Behind us the shuttle exploded, and the green haze in the sky was joined by bright yellow flames bursting forth from the dying vessel. Despite our distance from the destruction I could sense the shrapnel moving towards us, thousands of shards of metal and composite cast skyward by the force of the blast. I turned, using the Force to push back against the onslaught of deadly debris.

It was an inexorable tide; I could not stop it all. I inhaled sharply as scorching agony tore through my chest and erupted outward through my body. The intensity was staggering, testing my mental discipline. I resisted the urge to cry out, instead clamping my gloved hands into tight fists as a channeled the pain into my efforts.

Satisfied their objective had been achieved the Fighters arced skyward and the deluge of destruction ceased. I fell to my knees, overwhelmed by exhaustion. Short, uneven breaths were unable to satiate my need for air. A cold, crushing pain radiated through my chest, burning my senses with unrelenting intensity.

I slowly lowered my chin to my chest, finally allowing myself to survey my injury. A twenty centimeter piece of metal had impaled me. It had sliced neatly between the ribs on my right side, tearing through the muscles, ligaments, and organs of my lower chest. My black clothing was wet with spreading blood. I could also feel the warmth of blood pooling around my back, suggesting the shrapnel had lanced completely through my body before becoming lodged in my torso.

It was an exquisite agony. My raspy breathing continued, but the struggle for oxygen was an exercise in futility. Denied the necessities of life, my balance failed and I tumbled backwards. The impacted with the ground forced the metal several centimeters back through my chest, causing another wave of pain to radiate outward. It was another reminder of my frailty; like the moisture welling in my eyes it was proof of my weakness.

Weakness. For all my power, it seemed to define me. I felt a burning sensation within that had nothing to do with my wound. Once more failure wrapped its cruel fingers around my heart, the caustic tendrils of despair far more painful than any injury.

"Ben!" Leia yelled.

I looked back at Leia, the sweat and tears pooling in my eyes making turning her face into an unfocused haze. The face I had taught myself to despise. The face of the woman who had poisoned me with feeble ideology and saddled me with unrelenting indecision. She was responsible for the pain.

I should have hated her. And I hated myself because I did not.

I blinked several times, trying to clear my eyes of the caustic mixture of sweat, tears, and blood so I could study her face. It was the face of a woman who would not yield, whose compassion for me was unwavering. I had caused the destruction of almost everything she loved and then attempted turn her over to the First Order. And still her eyes burned with the same hope and determination they always had.

Memories I had fought to suppress flooded my mind. Memories that had been seared into my conscious but that I wanted so badly to deny. Her eyes cut through me with the same tragic pleading that had defined his final moments. It was an ethereal mix of hope and sadness that was so alien yet so familiar.

Her soft hand touched my cheek, I could not help but marvel at the bitter irony. Now I was the one on the precipice of the abyss. And while my thoughts should have been awash with malice and anger, what I wanted most was for her to understand. For her to comprehend why I had chosen the path I had; how the darkness had given me strength.

My lips parted repeatedly, but I found myself unable to form words amidst my short, strained breaths. As I struggled I could feel an acrid foam forming on my lips as saliva mixed with blood. Leia put a hand on my forehead, encouraging me to lie still. "It's ok," she assured me, "It's all ok."

As her face passed over mine, I could feel the teardrops on my skin. My breathing became shallower and more frequent, and I could feel a familiar coldness spreading through my body. Leia put one hand behind my head and placed her other on my cheek. "Stay with me, Ben."

"I've contacted the Emancipator," I heard Rey say. "Help is on the way."

I tried to call out for her, but only a few short, quiet gasps managed to escape the invisible hand crushing down on my chest. There was no response, only the sounds of her footsteps as she walked away.

Once more the forbidding reality pierced my soul, its spiteful barbs tearing through me more forcefully than the metal in my chest had. I had lost Rey.

I had not been wrong: she had seen into my thoughts and used her insights to try a pull me away from my purpose. But the effort had been fueled by the false teachings of Skywalker, not some desire to exploit my weaknesses. Her intentions were pure, it was her convictions that were flawed.

My mind had once succumb to the poisonous teachings of the Jedi. Their nefarious beliefs led them to ignore the true potential of the Force. Their fear of the Dark Side allowed chaos to fester throughout the Galaxy.

Her unadulterated resistance and my impending demise had left me no choice. If I could not be by her side to break down the barriers Skywalker had ingrained in her someone else would need to be her teacher. Someone who was not constrained by specious morality and terrified of their own power.

That was what I had thought, that was the self-deception that I had allowed to fester in my own mind. Such lies seemed pointless at the edge of oblivion, and I found myself forced to accept a far simpler truth: I was afraid. Afraid that if she failed to continue my work I would die without purpose. Without meaning.

Another vortex of self-loathing cut through me. I had acted out of desperation. I had acted out of fear. I had given in to the forces I was supposed to be the master of. I had allowed myself to be ruled by emotion, and in doing so had pushed her away.

I had to trust in the Force. It was the arbiter of all truths, and I was merely its servant. If my destiny was to return to the void unfulfilled, so be it. I could only hope that she would find her purpose without me.

I closed my eyes. Hope. That most inconsequential of things. What the weak and pitiful cling to when they lack the power to dictate their own fates.

"Ben," Leia said gently, grasping my left shoulder with her hand. Her touch radiated with feeling, injecting a sense of warmth into my gradually cooling body. "Open your eyes. Just a bit longer now."

I reluctantly complied, looking upwards with a vacant stare. Leia was struggling to maintain a smile on trembling lips, her thoughts washing over me. Her compassion. Her reassurance. And for the briefest of moments the decades of misery fell away. All the wrong she had done seemed so distant. I was simply an injured soul seeking the comfort of his mother.

My thoughts were interrupted by a spasm of painful coughing. I could feel the warm blood coating my throat and spreading across my lips as I coughed. Leia pulled her hand away from my face; it was stained by a menacing web of dark red. Tearing a piece of cloth from her shirt she gently wiped the dark-tainted sputum away from my mouth, ignoring my increasingly violent shivering.

The pain began to fade to numbness. Leia gently wrapped her arms around me, careful not to dislodge the shrapnel within me. "I won't let go of you again," she said through erratic sobs. "I love you."

I swallowed in an attempt to keep down the frothy blood within my chest. The coldness was overwhelming now. "I…" My voice trailed off, my waning breath no longer sufficient to speak.

I closed my eyes, hoping that perhaps this time the pain would end.

A/N: Longer chapter this time! And a quite bit darker. I try to touch on a lot of aspects of Star Wars, but I think the core of this story is Kylo's internal struggle and the relationship between it and those around him. But you need a few spaceships blowing up to round things out!

I hope you all enjoyed, and thanks you again for the support. It is always great to hear from you!