Star Wars, Star Wars Expanded Universe, Legends, and all canon events and characters are the copyright and property of LucasFilm Limited, a subsidiary of the Walt Disney Corporation. All original characters and story elements belong to me.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Chapter 1

Rey sat on the edge of the sand dune, able to see far out in all directions, as she scrubbed at the bit of metal in her hand. To the west, the partially-buried remnants of a Star Destroyer cast its long shadow across the dunes; a casualty of a long-ago battle. To the north glimmered the Niima Outpost, ships coming and going from it like flies on carrion. And to the east was the First Order outpost, which was despised even on the forgotten planet of Jakku, on the far edge of the civilized galaxy. Every once in a while, Rey would pause to scan the view, her eyes lingering upon the hulking wrecks studding the sand, before returning her attention to the metal fitting, carefully wiping grains of sand from the worn threads with her oiled rag. When she was finally satisfied, she placed it into the worn canvas satchel beside her, then chose another piece of scrap metal and began polishing again.

The sun was low in the sky and her hands were aching by the time she had worked her way through the collection bag. The clean parts gleamed in the light of the setting sun as she closed the satchel flap against the sand-carrying winds and rose, brushing the grains from her knee-length pants. Her stomach let out a long rumble, reminding her that she had exactly one quarter portion left to split between that night's meal and the next morning's, before she set out for town. This latest haul ought to be worth at least another week's worth of portions, if she was careful: buying her time to find enough to trade for the week after that.

If she thought about it too much, the staggering amount of work and risk to scavenge a handful of parts to keep her belly somewhat full, week after week stretching on and on into a murky future, she would lose all will to do anything at all. So instead, she shouldered the two bags, hefted her metal staff, and set off into the long shadows of the dunes, towards home.

"Home," of course, was a loose term for any resident of Jakku, but particularly for Rey, whose shelter consisted of no more than an old transport in varying stages of burial in the sands, depending on how hard the wind blew. It was largely hidden, so Rey felt less of a target to the denizens of the planet, though she'd long since picked up the habit of sleeping lightly and keeping her staff beside her at all times.

She approached the shelter with the same wariness she always did, pausing to listen for any sounds inside before she reached out to the door panel that she'd managed to get working again years ago. The door slid open on well-oiled hinges, and she paused again to ensure that the interior was clear before she ducked inside, touching the complementary pad on the interior.

The single dusty light came on automatically as she moved through the space. Jammed onto the many shelves she'd installed on the walls were objects that she had collected over the years that wouldn't fetch much in trade but which had snagged her interest for one reason or another. Bits of broken plastics, ruined droid pieces, and even an old Rebel pilot helmet lined the interior of the small room. Letting the sack of tradeable metal pieces slump across the small table, Rey moved towards the box where she kept her portions. Gazing down at the small packet, she felt her stomach twist uncomfortably as she thought about splitting it into two meals, or even three. However, this was nothing new, and she had survived much worse. Or so she tried to inform her disgruntled stomach, which gurgled unhappily in response.

She prepared the portion with the same rising panic she always felt at the sight of the empty box, and in spite of her hunger, she only ate a little less than half of the doughy mound. She set aside the rest of it with care and tried to pretend she couldn't eat it all, and three more besides, as she lay down on her sleeping mat and turned the light off with a snap of her fingers.

And she dreamed.

It started off as the usual dream. Her own screams ringing in her ears, her hand raised towards a retreating ship, a hard, unfamiliar grip holding her back from running after it. The helplessness and sorrow that always accompanied the dream drenched her like cold water, and she nearly rose to wakefulness at the peak moment of misery.

But something else in the dream caught her attention, holding her there. It started as a feeling, one that normally did not enter this dream. The feeling of being watched.

Rey turned and found a…a darkness in the corner of her dream. There was no other way to describe the haze of pulsing anger that obscured the desert scene. She stepped towards it, curious, the tears still wet upon her cheeks. To her surprise, the darkness moved sharply backwards.

"What are you?" Rey whispered. The darkness seemed to hesitate. An impulse sparked within her, and she reached out abruptly, her fingers tangling in the tendrils of dark mist. She felt a shock of cold run through her outstretched fingers, and in that cold she felt such deep, dark rage seeping into her skin that she jerked her hand back. The darkness seemed frozen for a moment, then suddenly it drained away, and the dream fell to tatters around her.

She sat up abruptly, her skin coated with sweat, making her shiver in the deep black room. That patch of darkness had felt…well, real. She'd felt the almost-palpable negativity emanating from it, but she had also felt the tinge of confusion in it as well. Very human confusion.

Rey brushed the sweat from her forehead and rolled over on the hard mat, closing her eyes and hoping that she would not dream again of that terrible childhood loss…or the inexplicable presence of the dark cloud that followed.