Published October 9, 2022

"The Oracle"

And we know that God works all things together for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose. ~ Romans 8:28, Berean Standard Bible

On the day of Finn and Rose's wedding, Rey woke up the same way she had been for weeks: reaching out her hand and straining to hear something. She was sure she had heard someone speaking to her, telling her something, though she could not remember the exact words. Waking up alone, realizing it must have been a dream, and losing what she could remember of it, made her sad and frustrated—not a good way to start the day.

She sighed as she got up from her makeshift bedding. She went through her morning routine, but instead of preparing for a day of scavenging or visiting the needy, she packed an overnight bag and drove her speeder toward Tuanul Village.

The ride across the desert gave her more time to think than she wanted, yet not quite enough time for her mood to improve. As horrible as it was to admit, she had been dreading this day, for a variety of reasons.

Rey knew she ought to feel happy. In general, she had many blessings to count, especially considering where she lived. She had food, shelter, friends, and even—by some strange decision of the Force—supernatural gifts, which enabled her to do some good in the world. She was grateful for all of these things.

When she was with her friends or among the people, their company lifted her spirits, even though it was a bit draining. But when she was alone, Rey found herself feeling increasingly melancholy and restless. And she felt ashamed for feeling that way. Shouldn't she be satisfied with what she had, instead of wishing for what she lacked?

The loneliness of not having a family of her own had been easier to bear when she was a child. She had been one of many orphans in the Jakku desert, and they tended to band together in the settlements around Niima Outpost. They also had some friends whose parents were still alive, like Poe Dameron and the Tico sisters, who could afford to share food or give temporary shelter to their children's playmates.

But as the children grew into adulthood, most of them either left to find better work opportunities, or married and started families of their own. One by one, each found a career or a partner that suited them.

Rey did not think she was jealous—she did not resent others for finding homes and happiness. But with each wedding among her peers, her heart grew a little heavier, because it meant more of her friends were putting distance, of one kind of another, between them. And when she saw people so fulfilled by their work or their family life, she could not help wishing she had those things too.

She had thought that meeting so many people would relieve some of the pain of being alone. But she had discovered, gradually, that it was possible to feel lonely even when surrounded by crowds of people. She knew that their goodwill and affection for her were mostly due to what she could do for them. As good as it felt to help others, it was not the same as spending time with people who really knew her and cared about her. Those were few in number.

Lately, though, beyond her shrinking circle of friends, the number of people Rey could safely and openly associate with had been declining. After a sort of peak in her popularity around the last Feast of All Gods, public opinion about her seemed to shift. She was now almost as notorious as she was admired. In many places, the local power players—government officials, religious leaders, crime bosses—feared her influence and told people to shun her. This was not enough to deter those who wanted to seek her out for healings or other favors, but it was enough to make most folks keep their distance. As a result, it became more difficult for Rey to travel and reach people who needed her. Her friends were hospitable enough to let her stay with them, but she did not want to endanger them by prolonging her presence. So she stayed on the move, traveling between settlements and camping in lonely places, in order to avoid capture.

It was a strange, almost laughable irony: she was the most popular, yet the least loved. Everyone wanted to meet her, but no one was willing to risk forming close ties with her. And while everyone admired her, few were willing to extend the hand of friendship, much less make any romantic overtures to her.

It seemed as though she could only experience extremes of popularity on the one hand and isolation on the other. Sometimes, they could even coexist. But a happy medium seemed out of reach.

Rey tried not to give any indication of her feelings to her friends. She did not want to sound ungrateful or attract anyone's pity. So she acted as happy as she thought she ought to be.

On this day, in particular, when two of her closest friends were getting married, she ought to rejoice and offer her congratulations and good wishes. She was genuinely happy for Finn and Rose, as she had been for the other young couples who had married in recent years years. But the experience only served to underscore how lonely she truly was.

As was the case with most local couples, the wedding took place in the temple of the Skywalkers, and the reception was held under canopy tents set up outside. As poor as most of the villagers were, everyone came together to contribute to the festivities on occasions like this.

Lor San Tekka officiated the ceremony, invoking the gods of love to bear witness to the vows being made and bless the couple's efforts to live them out. Finn and Rose recited the pledges that Rey had heard so many times she almost had them memorized. Paige and Poe assisted the bride and groom, looking proud.

Rey could have been standing with them, but she had turned down Rose's invitation to be a bridesmaid. She wanted to keep her profile as low as possible and not draw any attention away from the couple. She wore a hood to partially conceal her appearance, and kept her head down most of the time, avoiding direct eye contact with anyone.

Unfortunately, enough people had heard of her or seen her before that they figured out who she was by the time the reception began. A few approached her, wanting to pay her compliments or ask her questions. Some children—Paige and Rose's cousins and neighbors—asked her to demonstrate her use of the Force by levitating their toys. Watching their gleeful laughter made Rey smile. But no one invited her to dance, or even engaged her in conversation.

At one point, fed up with feeling sorry for herself, Rey decided to make the first move and ask someone to dance with her. But when she moved around, the guests seemed to disperse wherever she walked. At first she thought it was a coincidence, or bad luck, but after circling the pavilion a few times, she could only conclude that most of the people were, in fact, avoiding her.

She managed to reach Poe, who she hoped might dance with her for the sake of their longstanding friendship, if nothing else. But he was hanging out with Zorii Bliss, a tough and rather intimidating young woman. The two of them seemed to be getting on well, and Rey did not want to interrupt that. She turned about the area again, watching the happy scenes, and trying not to look forlorn.

"Are you lost?"

The voice startled Rey, even though it was one she knew well. She turned to see Lor San Tekka holding two wooden cups. The crinkle between his eyes showed that was teasing.

Rey smiled ruefully back, and accepted the drink he held out to her. "No, not lost … just searching, I guess."

"If it's food you seek, the buffet table is this way," he said helpfully. She laughed at that, because food was the last thing she would have expected him to point a seeker toward.

She followed him anyway, thinking food might be a good distraction. Most of the buffet meal was a potluck of dishes brought by the guests, and the Ticos were well off enough that they could splurge on some real desserts. Having loaded their plates, they sat down together at an empty table.

"How are you, my young friend?" Tekka asked. His smile was as kind as ever, and Rey knew a brief, casual answer was not what he was looking for.

Tekka did not generally approve of Rey using her abilities so publicly. He had warned her, more than once, to be discreet and exercise prudence in deciding when and how to use them. Despite their disagreement over this, however, she had found him to be a good source of counsel when she had questions about the Force or the gods. He had appreciated her curiosity and openness to learning, and so he did not discourage her from visiting the temple, even in between the various festivals throughout the year.

Rey sighed, gazing around at the festivities. "I'm happy for Finn and Rose … but at this point, weddings just remind me of everything I'm missing out on." She nodded toward the married and dating couples who were dancing. Some of Rose's cousins had children of their own, and either carried them or tried to teach them how to dance.

She looked back at the old pastor, who had taken a vow of celibacy in order to dedicate himself to serving the Church of the Force. "Do you ever feel lonely? Or wish you had … what married people have?"

Tekka considered the question thoughtfully. "Not often. Celibacy frees you to be available to all people, and I've found that way of life fulfilling. But not everyone is suited for it, as I'm sure you know."

Rey nodded, no longer bothering to hide her glumness. "I've spent most of my life thinking I was alright with being alone. But the older I've grown, the more I've realized I'm not." She hesitated to say what else had been weighing on her mind, a new and unique concern. "With the way things have been lately … I'm starting to wonder if there's something wrong with me. I'm not sure anyone would want to marry me."

Tekka gave her a skeptical look. "Can you guess how many lovelorn young people I've seen visit the temple? How many believed they were doomed to be alone, only to find their mate later on?"

She laughed, but not without some bitterness. "Plenty, I'm sure. But were any of them 'miracle-workers'?"

"Not that I knew of," he admitted.

"Exactly. Some say I'm blessed, some say I'm cursed, but everyone agrees that I'm strange, and no one wants to be associated with me that way."

Or maybe it was simpler than that. Maybe she was just not attractive enough, physically or otherwise, to be noticed and pursued that way.

Rey was self-aware enough to know that some of her concern stemmed from insecurity. Paige, who was a bit older than Rey and Rose, had told them that was a normal part of growing up. But there was also a mathematical improbability at play. There simply were not many available young men in the area. Most of the men close to Rey's age had either married or moved away by now. To find one who wanted to marry her, she would probably have to leave Jakku. But, while she harbored no love for the place, she was extremely reluctant to leave. It was the last place she had seen her parents, and if they came back only to discover she was no longer there, she might never see them again.

For some years, as she had honed her powers and grown in fame because of them, she had hoped that her parents might hear about her, and would decide to return and claim her. But that had not happened yet, and her confidence faltered more with each year that passed. She wondered if she was doing something wrong, and worried she was wasting time waiting for something that might never happen.

Rey started to eat in an effort to distract herself. But even this brought a sense of discontent, which was really troubling. Food used to be one of Rey's favorite things in the world, since it had been so hard to get. But these days, thanks to her grateful benefactors, she never lacked it, and though she tried to give away her surplus, she had sampled the different treats people gave her: candies, dried fruit or meat, even flasks of homebrewed liquor. They were so delicious and of such good quality that that now, she could not help but compare her normal meals to the better ones she had had, and she was all too aware of the difference as she ate.

Perhaps she was simply spoiled. For the first half of her life, she had been too focused on surviving to worry about higher-order needs or desires. Now … there was much that she wanted, but little that seemed attainable.

Before Tekka could say anything, Finn and Rose came over to the table as they made their rounds checking on each guest. "How are you guys doing?" Finn asked, grinning and beaming with joy.

Rose, who was more sensitive and observant, remarked gently, "You look pretty downcast for a wedding."

"We were just discussing Rey's growing reputation," Tekka said.

"Oh." Finn was not sure how to respond, and tried to seem understanding but nonchalant. "Yeah. Crazy stuff."

It occurred to Rey that her friends might have heard things about her that people would not say in her hearing. "What kinds of rumors do you hear?"

Finn was visibly uncomfortable and tried to evade the question. "Oh, uh—nothing really—"

"There's a lot of speculation about how you got your powers," Rose informed her. "Whether you had to do something to get them, like make a sacrifice or a deal with the gods; or whether you inherited them from someone, like a divine ancestor."

Rey could not help feeling annoyed by these suggestions. "I guess people think I can't be good at anything unless I'm descended from the gods." That would be easier for them to comprehend than a girl simply being talented by nature.

"I don't know about descended," Tekka said seriously, "but gifted by them, I can believe."

"So, who do people say I am?" Rey asked.

At this point, Poe joined them at the table with a cup of wine, and answered the question as if he had already been part of the conversation. "The latest theories are that you're a descendant of Obi-Wan Kenobi, or one of the Skywalkers. Some say you're Padmé Amidala reincarnated. One guy even suggested you could be a Palpatine."

"Don't invoke their names!" Rose hissed, while Rey snorted at such far-fetched ideas.

"Who do you think I am?" she asked, half teasing and half curious.

"I say it doesn't matter," Finn said bluntly. "You're Rey, and you're our friend."

Rey smiled gratefully. "I wish everyone else thought that way."

Rose glanced around and leaned toward her, speaking in a low volume. "Rey, I wanted to ask—do you know when you'll leave?"

The mood at the table immediately became somber, despite the music that continued nearby. "Tomorrow," Rey answered, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"Do you know where you'll go?" Poe ventured.

"No."

Rose began to make the same argument she had attempted to make for weeks. "You know you don't need to—"

"Yes, I do," Rey said, firm and grim. "That attack last month was a warning."

Finn's expression was sad but understanding. He had been Rey's closest friend since childhood, and he was the one who would miss her the most. She would not have been able to leave him without knowing he had Rose to lean on. "Will you ever come back?" he asked, his voice slightly choked.

Rey hesitated. She had always thought of herself as being tied to Jakku, at least until her parents came back for her. But did she truly need to return there again and again? If all her friends were starting their own lives, why shouldn't she, if she found a good place to settle down?

"Do you want me to come back?" Rey asked.

"Well, yeah—but we want you to be happy, even if that means being far away. And we'll feel better if we know you're where you want to be."

"I don't know." Rey sighed. "Sometimes I get the feeling that I'm supposed to be somewhere else, or do something else. I just don't know what that might be."

Lor San Tekka, who had been silent for most of the young people's conversation, now spoke up. "I would not give this advice to just anyone," he said slowly. "But your situation is so … unique, and concerned with powers we know not of … perhaps it would be wise …"

"What?"

"I know someone who might be able to give some counsel. Some … foresight, if you will."

"You mean fortune-telling?" Poe blurted.

"No, not mere divination—anyone can attempt that," Tekka said dismissively. "She knows the Force, and she can perceive the true nature of things. She sees beyond appearances, and even, occasionally, beyond time itself."

Rey stared. "A real oracle?" She had heard stories, of course, about oracles and their prophecies. Often, they did not turn out well for the people who heard them—but that was usually when people tried to circumvent them. Most of those stories served as cautionary tales against hubris, warning mortals that they could not escape the will of the gods.

"Those are real?" Finn said.

"Are you serious?" Poe questioned.

"Do you really think that would help?" Rose asked, intrigued but guarded.

Tekka looked to Rey as he answered. "I think you've exhausted what you can learn here. If you want further guidance, she'll at least be a place to start."

Rey hesitated. "Where is this oracle?"

"Takodana, a day's journey by speeder. If you wish to meet her, I would be glad to take you," Tekka offered. Rey started to protest—how could she pay him back for the fuel and time it would take for such a long journey?—but he held up a hand to silence her. "You give so much without asking for pay. You must allow others to do the same for you."

Rey supposed he had a point.

"Hold on," Finn intervened. "Are we sure this is a good idea? I mean, is it even safe to go? And what if it's a waste of time?"

"She'll probably tell you something vague and cryptic," Poe predicted. "Something that could be interpreted as coming true later on, without depending on anything specific."

"Or she might tell you things you don't want to hear," Rose warned. "Would you be able to handle that?"

Rey bit her lip. She had always had a sense that someone was waiting, beyond the bounds of her everyday life, for her to do something. Especially lately—ever since the last Feast of All Gods, come to think of it—she had a feeling that something was coming, and she wanted to know what it was, so she could prepare for it.

"I want to know what I need to do," she said. "Should I just keep waiting until something or someone crosses my path? Or do I need to look for them? If there's even a chance she can help me figure that out, I think I ought to try." She turned to Tekka and nodded in acceptance. "If you can take me, I'll go there next."

"Should we drink to that?" Finn suggested.

Rose smiled and held up her cup. "To Rey. Let's pray the next wedding we go to will be hers."

"Hear, hear," the others agreed, toasting her together.

Rey blushed, and felt a strange warmth inside, like the opposite of a shiver.

Simply getting to the oracle took some creativity. Plenty of people had seen Rey at the wedding, so the word would be out that she was in the area.

Despite his misgivings about the whole venture, Poe used his considerable popularity among pilots and other traveling workers among to help with the arrangements. A married couple he knew, Snap Wexley and Karé Kun, let Rey hide among some cargo in a transport as they went home from the wedding. She spent the night with them.

Her dreams that night were pleasant. When she woke, she had a better sense of what kind of words had been spoken to her: words of affirmation, assurance that she was doing the right thing despite her apprehension. She did not know if it was a premonition, or her own hopefulness.

Very early in the morning, Snap drove her to the temple of the Skywalkers.

"The only danger will be if we get attacked by bandits," Snap said cheerfully as he steered. He cast a glance at the crate in which Rey was hidden. "But you could handle that, right?"

"I can hold them off," Rey said carefully, "but you should still be ready with a blaster."

In truth, she was not nearly as confident in her fighting as everyone expected her to be. She had fought off assailants on a few occasions, but her use of the Force for combat was haphazard at best. She had no one to instruct her or show her how to improve. Perhaps that was something else she should ask the oracle: where she could find a teacher. Lor San Tekka had taught her stories and moral principles, but he could not instruct her in the practical use of the Force.

When they arrived at the temple, Tekka gladly accepted the cargo box from Snap, who loaded it into the temple-owned transport as if it were an ordinary delivery. Once they were en route, Tekka opened the box and let Rey out to sit in the passenger seat.

They did not speak much, except for what little Tekka had to say about the oracle. He spoke more freely about her now that they were alone. "Her name is Maz Kanata. She is over a thousand years old. She can be … eccentric. But she is wise and trustworthy."

Rey looked sideways at him. "Do you really think she can help me?"

Tekka's smile seemed a little crooked. "She will give help to those who need it. But for cases like this, she has a way of showing people how to help themselves."

That sounded good to Rey, who had always tried to be independent and self-sufficient.

She spent the long stretches of silence watching the landscape change as they traveled. She had never been outside the desert terrain of Jakku, where the only interesting geographical features were mesas and cliffs and canyons. But after some hours, they began to see grasses and sparse trees, and the sand gave way to real dirt.

The constant motion of the speeder lulled Rey to sleep, but when she woke a few hours later, they were on a path with trees on either side—a forest, she realized. She had never seen such lush and numerous plants, so tall and so close together that their foliage created a natural canopy, blocking some of the sunlight.

"I didn't know there was this much green in the whole world," she said in wonder. Tekka chuckled, but he did not tease or chide her for her naiveté.

The road and the forest finally stopped in a clearing where other vehicles were parked. It was hard to say which of the clearing's dominant features impressed Rey more: the stone castle that towered even higher than the trees, or the lake stretched out next to it, whose surface glittered in the midday sun.

Rey had the consoling thought that even if the oracle could not give the help she hoped to receive, the journey would have been worthwhile just to be able to see such a place. She could leave with the knowledge that the whole world was not like Jakku, that nature could be tranquil and beautiful. Maybe she could even stay in this part of the world.

Tekka parked the transport and led Rey up the steps to the castle doors. He opened them, and Rey followed him inside, pulling her hood up over her hair.

The noise indoors was a disconcerting contrast with the peace outdoors. All manner of sentient beings lounged around, eating, drinking, laughing, arguing, gambling, bartering. A band played moody music that sounded, somehow, both dark and cheerful.

And in the midst of the motley crowd, a short, red-skinned humanoid in traveler's clothes turned and faced the newcomers. "Lor San Tekka!" she bellowed.

The cacophony ceased, and heads turned to see the old man, who looked rather unhappy about being singled out, and the young woman, who tried to hide halfway behind her companion.

Instead of approaching their host, Tekka made his way to the bar. Maz Kanata joined them at once. "Here to proselytize again?" she guessed. Her tone made Rey suspect that it had not gone well the last time.

"On the contrary," Tekka replied. "I brought a young disciple in need of your insight. You've heard of her."

Maz fixed her gaze on Rey, and seemed to know at once who she was. "Reeeeeeyyy of Jakku," she said, drawing out the monosyllabic name. "You don't look like much."

Rey frowned. "I could say the same of you." She had been expecting someone with the kind of austerity and dignity she associated with templekeepers, not innkeepers.

Her snippy response made Maz smile. Her dark eyes seemed to have a sort of twinkle in them, at least in a certain light. "I assume you need something, desperately."

"I don't know about 'desperately,'" Rey muttered, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

Maz grunted and waved her hand, gesturing for Rey to follow her deeper into the castle. "Let's get to it."

Rey looked back at Tekka, who nodded in encouragement. With that, she left him and followed the oracle.

Maz led her into a private room filled with mismatched decorations: braided rugs, wall tapestries, strings of beads, shelves of odd artifacts. Fleetingly, Rey wondered if they were souvenirs from past travels, or gifts from visitors like her.

Maz went over to the woven mat in the center of the room. "Sit down."

Rey obeyed, sitting across from Maz.

The first thing the oracle did was to adjust the unusual goggles on her cap, putting the magnifying lenses in front of her eyes. Then she got on her knees and leaned toward Rey, who had to resist the urge to lean away. "Let me see your eyes," Maz instructed her.

It was strange for Rey to be still and let someone look into her eyes for so long. She did not think anyone had ever done that in her life. She realized that eye contact was very personal, and almost uncomfortably intimate.

There was no way to interpret Maz's expression; the old woman's wrinkled face was scrunched even more in concentration. She said nothing, except an occasional "Hmm."

After several minutes, she leaned back on her heels and removed the lenses from her eyes. Now she regarded Rey in her entirety. "Why are you here, Rey of Jakku?"

Rey stared blankly. Was it not obvious? Was this a test of some kind? Or was Maz a charlatan, as Poe surely suspected, who needed some information before making up a plausible prediction?

"I want to know my future," she answered truthfully. "At least, enough that I know what I should do."

That did not satisfy Maz. "Everyone who comes here wants that. But you have hopes for what your future holds. What is it you truly seek?"

It was painful to admit her specific desires, but Rey tried to do so, with as few words as possible. "I need a teacher. And … I want a family." She wondered if Maz knew exactly what that desire encompassed—safety, companionship, physical intimacy—things she dimly remembered from her childhood, and things she had only ever heard of, or only seen from a distance.

Maz was still studying her. "You are desperate, in some ways. Desperate to sleep at night. Desperate for what you do not know. Desperate for assurance that there is more to life than what you can see."

Rey was silent, fighting the urge to contradict this, letting the knowledge wash over her. Maz tilted her head and went on, her tone filled with warning. "I can commune with the Force and try to discern your future. But such knowledge almost never gives the bearer happiness."

Rey thought this over. While her future was unknown, it seemed full of possibilities—good and bad alike—and that left room for hope. But the unknown was also frightening, and left her feeling lost and directionless. She was tired of feeling that way. Even if the knowledge of her future made her unhappy, it would at least bring her peace of mind.

"Do it," she said with certainty. "Please."

Maz gave a slight nod, her expression reluctant. Then she grasped Rey's hands, closed her eyes, and tilted her head back.

The lights in the room flickered, becoming brighter for a few seconds, then darkening until they were almost extinguished. The temperature also seemed to fluctuate, with currents of warm and cold air swirling around them. Maz's concentration did not break, but her expression was puzzled, and grew more intense, as though she were trying to see something barely visible.

It was hard to tell how much time passed—it may have been seconds, or minutes, or an hour. Finally, all became still once more. Maz opened her eyes, sitting up sharply, and when she saw Rey's face, she took a deep breath, as though steadying herself. Rey waited, but the oracle did not speak.

"Well?" Rey asked finally. "Did it work? Did you see …"

Maz pursed her lips. "I do not understand it all, and it may be hard to bear. Do you truly wish to hear it?"

"Please," Rey begged, unable to take more suspense. "As much as you can tell me."

Maz heaved a sigh. "They always say that," she muttered. "Very well, Rey. This is the path the gods are arranging for you."

Rey held her breath, waiting.

"You will be married." Maz paused, long enough for this news to make Rey's heart leap in excitement and joy. Then she went on, "But your intended is not a mortal man."

For a moment both women were silent, staring at each other, Rey uncomprehending, Maz watching her reaction.

"I don't understand," Rey said at last. "Who or what is he?"

"It seems he does not wish to be known. Perhaps he does not know himself. His true name has been lost, and his true form is hidden."

"What can you tell me?" Rey pressed.

Maz looked at her with regret, but she answered with frankness. "He is a monstrous being, feared by all, whose power neither gods nor mortals can resist. You and your people will not know peace until you are united with him forever."

It may have been the strangest moment in Rey's life. Her mind and body were both paralyzed for a moment. The joy that had begun to swell up in her was swiftly drained. Before she had even processed the words in her mind, fear and grief swelled up in her heart. As the meaning sank in, the room seemed to swirl around her. She covered her mouth with her hand, and while she managed not to be sick, she could not stop herself from weeping. Maz said nothing to comfort her, only squeezed her hand.

"Why?" Rey asked, her voice breaking. "Why would the gods want that for me?" She had always known that there were malicious gods, but she had always assumed the beneficent gods were stronger and more numerous.

But Maz set her straight. "Powerful forces are at work around you. Powerful light, and powerful darkness. They are vying for control over your fate."

Rey still grasped for some rationale. "Is this a punishment? Did I do something wrong—or am I going to do something wrong?"

"Perhaps, from a certain point of view. You can do things no other mortal can."

"You mean because of my abilities? I always thought the gods—or the Force—gave them to me."

Maz's gaze was level. "Yes, but you alone can choose how to use them. And from what I hear, your actions these have won you the admiration due to a deity. Perhaps this has angered the real ones."

Rey flushed with anger of her own. "I didn't ask for anyone's honors; I just wanted to help people."

"And that greatly dilutes the power of the dark gods. You spread kindness, hope and healing. The dark side thrives on hatred, despair and pain. Your powers tilt the balance toward the light. That makes you valuable to some, and a threat to others."

Rey had known all along that her power could alter the status quo, but she had only thought about this in terms of the temporal world, with its wars and politics and crime syndicates. Could she really be a threat to unseen, immortal beings? Was she on an equal level with them?

"When will this happen?" she said at last.

"That is up to you. He awaits your arrival on the Plaintive Hand Plateau." Off of Rey's stunned expression, Maz reminded her, "You wanted to know what you must do."

Hearing her request echoed back at her, Rey felt as if she were being mocked. "Don't I have a choice?"

Maz nodded. "Of course. You can try to fight this destiny. Or you can rise up to meet it and accept it with grace."

That reminded Rey of the many stories about people who met their fate in their efforts to avoid it. Was Maz's prophecy inevitable, or could it only be self-fulfilling? What took more courage: trying to change one's fate, or accepting it without protest?

"The future is always in motion, Rey," Maz told her. "Even a seer like me cannot view the full picture. Sometimes what seems like a terrible thing turns out to be for some good."

Despite her demand for an explanation, that kind of pious platitude was the last thing Rey wanted to hear. "You're telling me I need to marry a monster. How can that be for some good?"

"This you must discover."

Rey pressed her hands to her head. She thought of her friends—wise Rose, earnest Finn, pragmatic Poe—and how they would react when she told them what the oracle said. She could imagine their horror—and their incredulity. It was easy to believe in the gods as some far-off, unseen beings keeping an eye on their lives from a distance. It was quite another thing to put one's life on the line to follow their purported plan.

As she tried to reason it out, the ridiculousness of the situation overwhelmed her almost as much as the unfairness. What evidence was there that anything this woman said was true? If it was, why should she meekly go along with this proposed plan for her life? She was not a pawn for the gods to use in their cosmic conflicts.

Rey stood abruptly, shaking her head. When she got to her feet, she glared at Maz and spoke vehemently. "I don't want any part of this."

As she turned toward the door, Maz raised her voice in warning. "If you reject this path, your selfishness will haunt you."

That gave Rey pause; but she could not stay. She needed to get away and think.

"Thank you for your counsel," she mumbled, remembering her manners. Then she left the room, ran through the castle, and burst out the doors.

Disclaimers:

~ The dialogue about Rey's identity is inspired not by only the many fan theories about Rey's ancestry, but also by a conversation between Jesus and the apostles, recounted in Matthew 16:13-16, Mark 8:27-29, and Luke 9:18-20.

~ I borrowed a few lines from the Mortis episodes of The Clone Wars.

~ The Plaintive Hand Mesa is mentioned in the Aftermath trilogy by Chuck Wendig. I haven't read those books (yet), but when I came across that name, it was too perfect not to use in a Reylo story.

Author's Note: This part of the story has been taking longer than I'd planned. I want to know from you readers: do you prefer more frequent updates with shorter chapters, or less frequent updates with chapters about this length?