Rey has long, fretful hours with nothing to do. So she spends half a day or more in deep meditation. It begins as a balm for her anxiety, but unfortunately it mostly succeeds in promoting her unease. For the longer and harder Rey contemplates her predicament, the more hopelessness creeps in. She's stuck in the Maw as a soft captive to Darth Sidious, unable to defeat him or to escape him. Plus, she's supposedly pregnant, although she doesn't really feel that different. That's probably a good thing because it helps her to ignore the issue mostly.
Ben can't help her now. If anything, he's in more danger than she is. And that particular fear becomes an obsession. Again and again, Rey renews her plea that the bond refrain from opening. She prays to the Force: Do not open the bond. I can take care of myself. Save Ben for the good of the galaxy. Do not let him fall prey to Sheev Palpatine. Save the last Skywalker and save the dream of balance.
Rey prays long and hard because she can't take the sight of Darth Sidious ripping the life out of Ben again. The visual of it had been horrifying, but the feel of it through their special connection had been paralyzing. At the time, all she could think was that Ben will die before she gets a chance to tell him that she loves him. For suddenly, those three words—'I love you'—mean everything to Rey. She had been reluctant for so long to utter them, afraid of the vulnerability they represent. But now, she worries she will miss her chance.
It makes her pray to the Force even harder. Do not open the bond. I can take care of myself. Save Ben for the good of the galaxy. Do not let him fall prey to Sheev Palpatine. Save the last Skywalker and save the dream of balance. Like a hypnotic chant, soothing in its singsong repetition, Rey thinks the words over and over again. They pour out into the silent void of the cosmos and dissipate into nothingness.
Luke's Jedi books would condemn her selfish request for protection of her lover. This is everything that is wrong with attachments, the Light Side would conclude. For those forbidden ties leave you ripe for manipulation and weak for personal temptations. But Rey, who grew up alone, will never fully adopt that Jedi teaching. For to love and to be loved is the belonging she has always craved. She knows from firsthand observation that those who lack love tend to go looking for it in all the wrong places. There is a desperation to them, and a futility too.
It's that innate empathy for the lost that initially led her to Ben. For in her Dark Side counterpart, Rey recognized a kindred spirit of lonely otherness fueled by equal parts rejection and fear. That's why when Ben told her that she wasn't alone, he was speaking to a very receptive ear. From that moment on, Rey decided to save Ben's soul, hoping that in the process she would heal her own. For they are both broken things needing to be treated gently. Except few can see past their sabers and magic powers to realize it.
But her prayers are more than for herself. Her concern for Ben extends beyond her self-interest. She needs Ben to stay alive for her unborn children and for the galaxy at large. Because if she doesn't make it, someone needs to continue the fight for moderation and Ben is the logical choice. He's so much more than the First Order tyrant Finn and others at the Republic perceive. He's grown enormously in ways only she truly knows. And she's grown, too. Love has that effect on people, she's discovering. It causes you to see things through fresh eyes, with someone else's point of view. That doesn't mean they are always right. But it does open your eyes and your heart to opposing ideas. If that is the purpose of the dyad, then it worked. Ben's not really a Sith and she's not a classical Jedi in any true sense. But that's okay. The point of balance is to jettison the old rigid orthodoxies to seek something different. Ben was absolutely right when he told her to let the past die in Snoke's throne room. She just wasn't ready to hear it.
But now, all she can do is obsess over how much Ben needs to survive. Her mantra continues without pause: Do not open the bond. Please, Force, do not open it! I can take care of myself. Save Ben for the good of the galaxy. Do not let him fall prey to Sheev Palpatine. Save the last Skywalker and save the dream of balance.
Is Darth Sidious listening? If so, he's probably laughing. But could old Plagueis possibly hear her from this far? Rey remembers the Muun referring to communing with far off or long-gone people from time to time. If he hears her, perhaps he can relay her sentiment to Ben. That's something, at least. All that really matters is that the Force is listening, Rey decides. So again, she prays for Ben's safekeeping.
And that's when she first hears—or rather, she thinks she hears—a slightly breathless, singsong voice in her mind.
Fre-ya. Fre-ya.
The tone is childish or maybe feminine. Perhaps both.
Freya, I hear you. Speak to me.
"Is someone there?" Spooked, suddenly suspicious Rey speaks her words aloud.
Fre-ya. Fre-ya. I'm listening.
"Who's there? Who's listening?" Rey demands. She's long conditioned from her Jakku days to treat strangers as threats.
There is no reply. Well, maybe there is a quasi-reply. Because Rey hears a slight giggle in her mind. It is fleeting, stifled fast. Rey can't decide if it sounds nervous or playful in the aftermath.
Is this Darth Sidious messing with her? She wouldn't put it past him. After all, Ben told her that he thought Snoke planted all sorts of images and voices in his head that Ben mistook for Force visions.
Frustrated, Rey leaps up from her meditation posture and stalks across her spacious, high status quarters to glower out the panoramic window. She sees only the undulating eddies and swirls of hyperspace. Evidently, the ship has jumped to lightspeed again, as it does from time to time. The blue glare that the energy shines back at her is intense.
Standing so close to the window, Rey now sees her own vague reflection. Dressed as she is currently, what she sees is disconcertingly reminiscent of her vision in the Death Star ruins. That version of her future had been Dark and aggressive. It had been terrifying. Even the memory triggered now by the window glass reflection makes Rey blink and walk away. She's too unsettled.
But as she turns, she hears the soft voice again in her mind. Don't be afraid of who you are.
Rey freezes. That's exactly what the Dark version of herself said after she lit her double-bladed sword. Hearing it now in her mind makes the hair on Rey's arms stand on end.
Rey whirls. She stalks back to the window to peer out. Is someone there? There's no one there. And how could there be? All Rey sees is her own faint reflection in the glass. But in her mind, she hears that faint giggle again.
Unnerved, Rey bursts out of her quarters and starts pacing the halls. Walking off steam is an old habit from her Jakku days—back from when every day was a battle for survival and emotional grit was every bit as important as physical hardiness. For then, as now, there were no guarantees of a happy ending. There was just hope and self-reliance. But she made it off Jakku, so perhaps she will make it out of the Maw as well.
It does not take long for Darth Sidious to find her. Rey is sure that is no accident. He probably sensed her disquiet in the Force and came to investigate for himself, hoping to capitalize on her downtrodden mood.
The Sith Master greets her with a welcoming smile that never meets his icy blue eyes. "Rey, good morning," he oozes his practiced politician's charm. Perhaps it's her paranoia, but today he seems more smug than usual. But maybe it's just his perfectly coifed red hair that gives that impression.
Rey nods in silent reply. She watches as Darth Sidious immediately dismisses the underlings who accompany him. He loves an entourage, she's noticed.
"I was just heading to the bridge. Won't you join me?"
Rey stares at his outstretched bare hand, wishing very much he hadn't used those particular words. 'Join me' isn't her favorite phrase to hear from a Sith. But she relents. "Very well." Perhaps at the ship's command center, she will overhear something useful for a future escape attempt.
So, she trails behind Darth Sidious as he returns to the epicenter of his warship. She can't help but notice how much stiffer and straighter the crew stands as together she and the Sith Master enter the bridge.
"We're about to exit hyperspace," he tells her with some excitement. "We're getting closer and closer to our destination."
"Great," she grumbles under her breath.
"I know you can't wait to meet your mother," he gushes, enjoying her obvious discomfort.
But Rey refuses to take the bait. Coolly she turns to approach the nearest window.
Behind her, Darth Sidious gets to work collaborating with his navigational team. Rey monitors their conversation, ostensibly staring out at the tumbling blue energy of hyperspace. But all too soon the ship reverts to sublight engines. Rey finds herself staring out at a fantastical tableau of wild space. She's seen pictures of the galaxy's famous nebulas and asteroid fields. The route to Exogol was something of a visual feast as well. But she's never seen anything that compares to the interior of a black hole.
Rey gazes past the diffuse collapsed remains of neutron stars that have literally been ripped apart by waves of gravitational forces sufficient to destroy a planet. It's truly an awesome, intimidating sight. This is destruction at its most dramatic. The scale is hard to fathom. But no doubt Death-Star-building, Starkiller-Base-loving Darth Sidious finds this stuff inspiring.
Noting how impressed she is, he becomes his typical emoting self. Darth Sidious spreads his arms wide in an expansive gesture, quietly proclaiming for all on the bridge to hear, "This is a cosmic laboratory. The energy of the universe is raw and untamed here. This is where things are destroyed and consumed and then made new. This is mother nature's lair."
Maybe he's right, but Rey focuses on the essence of her predicament. She gripes through gritted teeth, "You have allowed the ship to be sucked into a black hole . . . trapped in literal darkness . . ."
"Yes. Beautiful, isn't it? For here, depicted for all to see is the endgame of all life. Behold: Darkness wins," Darth Sidious coos. "In the end, no matter how hard you resist, Darkness wins. Like a black hole, it pulls you in. Every beginning and every ending is the same: Darkness."
It's more of the guy's incessant Sith cheerleading. Rey tunes it out. "I still don't understand how we're alive inside a black hole," she mutters.
Darth Sidious' irritatingly pious answer is faith. "Trust in the Force, Reina Perpetua Palpatine, trust in the Force."
"Stop calling me that."
He smirks back with relentless persistence. "It is the name of your true self—you've only forgotten. You were so young when you were stolen from me. I searched . . . you should know how hard and how long I searched for you. My little granddaughter with the Force was out there somewhere, lost forever, I feared." He levels a stern index finger at her as he insists, "You were never abandoned, Rey. You were stolen."
Whatever. At this point, Jakku can't be helped. Rey changes the topic. "Who is Freya?"
"I don't know that name. Should I?"
"I don't know it either." Suddenly, she's sorry she asked.
"Where did you hear it?"
"I didn't hear it. I think I thought it," Rey confesses glumly.
Darth Sidious' current absurdly youthful countenance immediately lights up. "Good! Gooood. That's probably your mother talking to you."
"My mother?" Rey echoes weakly. Now, she's definitely sorry she asked.
"Perhaps Freya is your nickname," Sidious suggests. "She likes to give people pet names. She's the one who called my old Master Snoke. At the time, he thought it was ridiculous."
Rey flashes her sly captor a knowing look. "So naturally, you chose to tell the galaxy that nickname name to ridicule him."
Darth Sidious chuckles. He has a very evil chuckle. "The gold dress was to ridicule him. The name Snoke was to make sure he knew it was me and Lady Abeloth ridiculing him."
The Sith Master gives her an appraising look now. "I am not surprised that your mother has called to you already. Tell me about the visions you have had. She usually comes in a vision."
Rey looks away. "I don't have visions."
He senses the falsehood and chides, "Come now, Rey, you can confide in me for matters of the Force. Let me help you understand. You are very powerful, but you have much to learn," Sidious cajoles.
She pushes back. "I don't have visions very often. Not for a while now."
He persists. "Tell me."
Very well. She plays along to keep him talking. Hoping that he will divulge something useful. "On Jakku, I used to have dreams of an island."
"Skywalker's island? Ahch-To, was it called?"
"Yes. You know about that?"
It's a stupid question. Darth Sidious was Snoke in disguise. "Oh, yes. It was the site of the first Jedi temple. Skywalker fled there in disgrace after he attempted to murder his nephew. It was an ideal solution, all in all."
Rey frowns. "But you sent Ben to look for Luke when all along you knew where he hid?"
Darth Sidious nods. "That boy needed a revenge quest. A goal matures an Apprentice. It is an essential step, like attempting to kill your Master."
"Right." Rey shoots him a cold look. She hates how this guy duped and manipulated Ben for so long.
But Darth Sidious is unrepentant, as expected. He brags, "I knew where Skywalker hid and I left him there in his misery. He was irrelevant in his exile. Cut off from the Force in some posture of self-flagellation." The Sith Master thinks a moment before he decides, "Skywalker was guilt-ridden like his original Master Kenobi. It was pathetic. Kenobi at least served a purpose on Tatooine. He kept the faith as a Jedi, unlike his failed student who lost his faith entirely. Such a waste of power . . ." Sidious tuts.
Rey thinks of the despondent Jedi Master who threw away his old lightsaber and told her to leave. The great hero Luke Skywalker was reduced to a suicidal recluse thanks in large part to Darth Sidious. For generations now, this man has dogged the Skywalker clan. Rey hates that he keeps succeeding.
"Tell me what else you have foreseen," the zombie Sith commands.
Again, Rey plays along. "I saw a vision that I think was mostly the past. It happened the first time I touched a lightsaber."
"What did you see?"
"It was images mostly. Feelings too. It was a jumbled mix."
"They always are. Did it frighten you?"
"Yes. I ran away afterwards," Rey blurts out. Then she reddens at how childish that sounds.
Darth Sidious smiles at her embarrassment and makes it a teachable moment. "Ah, my dear, that was your mistake. You cannot hide from who you are. Destiny catches up with you one way or another for sure. Don't be afraid of who you are."
Don't be afraid of who you are. Those are the words from the vision and from in her mind earlier. Confused Rey feels a shiver down her spine. She says nothing, but she's sure Sidious notices.
"Now, tell me, what were these images? What did you see?"
"It was the Skywalkers. Their past and present. It ended when I saw Ben. Then, I ran away in real life and he found me."
"There, you see?" Darth Sidious beams, happy to be proven correct. "That was destiny at work. What else has the Force shown to you?"
"Nothing important."
He shakes his head at her, like he is indulging a small child. Sidious gently cajoles, "You don't believe that. Neither do I. Tell me more."
Okay . . . Here goes. Rey describes what she saw on Ahch-To. "I once saw myself over and over again as if in a hall of mirrors."
"Yes?"
"It was befuddling. And disappointing," she sighs. "I thought the Force would give me answers. But it didn't. I asked to see my parents and I saw nothing. Just me over and over again."
"Very interesting. Anything else?"
"I saw something on Endor when I grabbed the Wayfinder for Exogol. I saw myself."
"Did you now? Two visions of just you?" Darth Sidious seems intrigued.
"It was me . . . a Dark version of me," Rey sadly admits. Her words are a rasp of choked emotion, for such is her fear at giving voice to the unsettling memory. That vision of herself on the Dark Side has haunted her dreams. She tells herself it is merely a cautionary warning to deter her from going to extremes. That the vision is a call to moderation and balance. But truthfully, Rey worries that vision foretold a future she cannot avoid.
That she is confessing this to Darth Sidious ought to make him happy. For isn't a Dark version of her his goal? But he doesn't seem to take her vision as portentous for his success. Instead, he queries, "How do you know that was you?"
"It was obvious. She looked just like me." That was the worst part.
Lord Sidious repeats his question. "How do you know that was you?"
"I guess . . . I don't. I mean, I hope it wasn't me. They say the future is always in motion . . ." Rey ventures weakly.
Those two befuddling hallucinations of just herself on Ahch-To and then again on Endor occurred at the outset of Rey's quest for identity—back when she was certain that the legendary hero Luke Skywalker and his Jedi Order were the answer to all her problems and the solution to the galaxy's turmoil. But that was wrong. Rey has been searching for alternative answers ever since. Trying to discover the truth of her past even as she strives for a better future.
Who is she? Who is she supposed to be? Who does she want to be? Rey is still figuring that out. Ben seems to have a much better grasp of those concepts for himself than she does. For she's failed her Republic friends with her treason, even if she's proud of the peace she helped to make. No one in the Senate is going to look to her for wisdom at this point. Attempting to revive the Jedi Order to rekindle their role as Knights of the Old Republic seems to be a lost cause now. And that's okay. Rey knows she's a lousy Jedi. It's mostly because she can't succeed in repressing her personal desire for love—she craves attachment far too much. And now, she's pregnant which pretty much seals the deal that she's irreparably broken the Jedi Code. But if she herself can't live the Code or unfailingly support the Republic, then maybe the whole concept of the Jedi Knights is truly outdated.
It has occurred to her that Anakin Skywalker—the original Chosen One—couldn't live the Jedi Code either. He too succumbed to love and that's how the Skywalker family came about. And that's how she finds herself a captive of Darth Sidious two generations later. But if the Jedi aren't the answer, then what is? Balance is an awfully vague concept, Rey fears. But still . . . it's a better answer than what came before. It's certainly a better answer than what Darth Sidious proposes.
Like Ben, Rey really wants to do the right thing. She's prepared to take risks and to make sacrifices. She's already resisted temptation and corruption. And yet, she finds herself stuck still groping for answers. Many stories tell the tale of a young person called to heroism. Maybe they're an unlikely choice or they at first resist. But in the end, they rise to the occasion and do the right thing. Well, that's Rey's goal. She's ready for the hero's journey except she doesn't know where to begin. Because the old paths to righteous glory no longer fit the galaxy she lives in. Moreover, they don't fit her personally. It's the same for Ben. He's no better at being a Sith than she is at being a Jedi. So balance seems like it's at least worth a try. But alas, the prospects for balance seem much diminished now that she's stuck in a black hole with the current reigning Master of Darkness. It's disheartening . . . and scary . . .
At her side, Darth Sidious keeps prosing on like usual. Trying to manipulate her as he metes out tidbits about her mother. He tells her, "Lady Abeloth is something of a trickster. But she is shy and easily chased away, like a mischievous child. In many ways, she is a child. Willful and in need of attention. She peeks around corners and listens at keyholes . . . Actually, it's less sly than it is fearful," he judges.
That makes no sense to Rey, who is listening but pretending not to listen. "How can she be fearful when she's a powerful goddess?"
Sheev Palpatine sniffs. "Power does not keep one from being insecure. Far from it, in fact."
"Oh."
"She is playful mostly. Teasing is probably the best word. Lady Abeloth can be most charming when she wishes. But know that she is never direct. Rarely does she state plainly what she wants. Rey, do not chase her away," he instructs with a firm look. "She does not take rejection well. Just ask Darth Plagueis."
"Oh." Rey isn't really following, but she asks, "How will I know it's her?"
Sidious shrugs. "She has existed in many guises. One is never sure what form she will take. But you will know her because she makes herself irresistible. She takes the form of your most fervent desire, perhaps even a forbidden longing. She is the wish you secretly want to fulfill but don't dare. She is the shameful fantasy you refuse to even admit to yourself. But somehow, she knows . . . and she dangles herself just out of reach as the bait to take."
Rey gulps.
"She appeared to old Plagueis as a beautiful Muun Jedi—yes, it's true. Delicious, isn't it? She was a Force virgin begging for him to corrupt her with his Dark teaching. She called to him, pleading for him to rescue her and to ravish her."
Rey makes a face at lurid and leering Darth Sidious. She's seen him pompous, resentful, jealous, and peevish mostly. But this is the first time she's seen him so gossipy. Does this guy have any redeeming qualities? She thinks not. Still, Rey can't resist asking, "And how did Lady Abeloth appear to you?"
"You don't really expect me to answer that question, do you?" her jailor retorts. Then, he muses, "The goddess rarely removes her veil. But if I had to guess, I suspect she will approach you as herself. Or what I think is herself," he amends.
"What does she look like?"
Darth Sidious smiles conspiratorially. "You'll know her when you meet her. It will be like looking in a mirror." Then, he lets loose a most disturbing cackle that carries to every corner of the bridge.
Again, Rey feels a shiver down her spine. Danger is screaming in her mind, but she soldiers on. Rey presses for more information she worries she won't want to hear. "Why is Lady Abeloth trapped here in the Maw?"
"Long ago, she gave in to temptation. She did forbidden things and those she loved judged her harshly for it. She's been here ever since as punishment."
"Who punished her? Was it the Force?"
"Lady Abeloth was condemned by those who once controlled the Force."
Rey objects. "No one controls the Force."
"There are those who have, for a time, controlled the Force."
Rey refutes this flatly. "You cannot control the Force."
"True, but you can subdue it . . . lull it into complacency for a time."
"How?"
Sidious scoffs, "Fools like Plagueis call it balance. It is a Jedi idea, enshrined in their lore as a kind of reset back to the beginning. Back to the heyday of Lady Abeloth and her clan the Ones. They are beings of mysterious origins. Different cultures have stories that explain their existence in conflicting ways. But all accounts agree that the Ones had enormous power capable of restructuring the universe itself. What you see outside these windows is but a preview of that power."
"Wow . . ." Her comment sort of slips out. No wonder so many Sith Lords have been obsessed with rescuing her mother. Lady Abeloth's power must be incredible, Rey thinks. And now, she's in league with Darth Sidious. They will be a formidable duo if she is ever released.
"Supposedly, the Ones lived in peace and harmony at the site of a font of Force energy." Her Dark nemesis shrugs off the details. "Perhaps it was here in the Maw where all life began . . . we'll never know for sure. So much of Lady Abeloth's past is vague and unresolved."
"You can't just ask her?" Rey proposes.
"The goddess does not always deign to answer," Darth Sidious replies, "and no one can compel her. Plus, who knows how truthful the response might be? She has long been known to manipulate men for her own aims." Darth Sidious says this last part as praise, of course.
Rey makes a face. "I see. But there were more than just her in the beginning?" Rey probes, still trying to understand. "Tell me more about the Ones." She's given up pretending to remain disinterested in the woman who created her.
Pleased by her question, Darth Sidious continues. "In the beginning, long before recorded time, allegedly life—and the Force—were presided over by a family. A very dysfunctional family, as it turns out. There was a father, a mother, a son, and a daughter, and together they comprised the Ones. Supposedly, the daughter tended towards Light and the son tended towards Darkness. But together, the father and the mother kept them in line. Supposedly, the family's love for one another tempered their pull to extremes. They were ageless archetypes who each played a role in the fabric of the Force. It was all peace and happiness and balance," Sidious spits out the hated word like a curse, "until the mother—your mother-Lady Abeloth transgressed. That's when it all fell apart. Paradise was lost and balance slipped away. It's been war, hardship, and struggle ever since," he concludes.
"What happened? What did she do?" Rey has to know.
"The versions of the myth differ. Sometimes, she eats the fruit of a forbidden tree, and her family is forever cast out from the perfect existence they have long enjoyed. Or she opens a box she has been entrusted for safekeeping and unleashes a plethora of perils she has heretofore been protected from. The details vary, but the plot remains unchanged: the poor woman gives in to curiosity or temptation and she breaks trust and is punished. She is a goddess, an exalted figure, and yet all too human . . . too fallible. Through her foolhardy actions, all is ruined. She is forsaken, misogyny wins, and everyone suffers. Witness the aftermath." Darth Sidious sweeps his arm broadly towards the spectacular view outside his ship's windows. "Darkness unleashed," he intones solemnly. He's back to his favorite theme.
Rey sputters, "But she's a goddess of balance . . ."
The Sith corrects her. "Balance is merely the prelude to the fable of Lady Abeloth, not the moral of the story. Hers is not a tale of moderation, but of temptation and loss, of anger and punishment, of abandonment and despair. If anything," Darth Sidious purrs, "her story is a parable of the futility of your aim. For balance in the Force proved to be fleeting—for the Ones and for the galaxy. Take a lesson there, my child: Darkness wins. It is the be all and end all of every era, even for the Ones. For a time, things may have been halcyon days of fairytale balance, but Darkness inevitably asserted itself. And just like that—for Lady Abeloth and for all of us—peace and harmony were forever lost." Darth Sidious' tone is sneery, mocking sarcasm. "Peace is a lie, Rey. The Jedi waited in vain hope for their prophet Chosen One to reset things back to the way they were. But that will never happen. History moves relentlessly forward. Things change."
Rey is still grasping for the implications of what she's hearing. She looks to Darth Sidious to confirm, "But you're saying that my m-mother," she stumbles over the uncomfortable word, "once helped to keep the balance of the Force?"
"Once, but no longer," Sidious relishes dashing her hopes. "Now, Lady Abeloth is chaos magic. She is neither Light, nor Dark, but everything on the spectrum of power." Again, he gestures to the view out the window. "See this? This is existence at its primal outset, and existence is chaos. Rey, creation is chaos. And this chaos is the work of your goddess mother. Here in the Maw and through the Force, Lady Abeloth—our original Mother Nature-promotes endless conflict and perpetual destruction and rebirth."
"Poor Lady Abeloth . . . " Rey breathes out, staring anew at the cosmic tableau. Did her goddess mother once know the secret of balance? And yet now, she has been reduced to living as a prisoner?
Sidious relishes this part of his tale. "Everything you see here is her rage and despair, her hope and her love. She boils in madness here in the Maw, a festering eternal soul. It's why every Dark Lord worth his red saber has lusted to tame her. Because of this power. Plagueis calls himself a Dark god, but he has never rivaled anything approaching her."
"And you are her current favorite?" Rey speaks the obvious sourly.
Sidious flashes a devious smile. "I have a soft spot for broken things who have been mistreated. But soon, together we shall release her."
Rey glances out the window. "She lets you hide here . . . she shelters you . . . "
Sidious bristles and starts recharacterizing her words. "I'm not hiding, Rey. I am preparing for my return." With a steely look, he vows, "Neither you nor Kylo Ren nor my old Master will be able to stop me this time."
Rey tries not to appear intimidated. To control her fear and display her best Jakku poker face. Frankly, Rey is still uncertain of how much of what she's hearing is true. But it all feels true in the Force. And she suspects that Darth Sidious is far too experienced a power player for a reckless bluff. For while a strategic lie might help him gain temporary advantage, surely nothing is more effective than a devastating truth. Especially a truth like 'your mother was a Force goddess who fell from grace and took the whole galaxy down with her.' Will history repeat itself? Will it be like mother, like daughter? Will Rey too fall into Darkness and become that scary woman from her vision on Endor?
"If Lady Abeloth is here, then where are those other gods of the Force?" Rey wants to know. "What happened to the rest of her family?" There was a father, a son, and a daughter in the story as well.
Darth Sidious shrugs. "The old legends never speak of the rest of her clan beyond their unhappiness in the wake of Mother Abeloth's absence. Apparently, the rest of the Ones couldn't live with her, but they couldn't live without her either. Most Sith scholars believe that those who renounced Lady Abeloth were eventually absorbed back into the Force. But I prefer to believe," Sidious' eyes gleam yellow, "that in her fury, she murdered them all. Vengeance, I hope, was hers," he hisses.
Rey considers this mystery. "Absorbed into the Force . . ." she whispers. "That's how Luke died. Leia disappeared too. Ben as well . . ." she recalls aloud.
"Well, naturally. It is a phenomenon long observed among the strongest Force users. Of course, those examples were Skywalkers, demigod descendants of Lady Abeloth herself. The last of her clan and the only of her kind to walk among the everyday living beings of the galaxy. We all will one day return back to the Force from which we came. The Skywalkers just do it very literally," Sidious explains matter of fact.
"So that's how I will die . . ." Rey gulps. Ben must have gotten to her just in time on Exogol, she realizes. He couldn't have revived her had she disappeared.
"Now, now, do not dwell on such things."
Rey shoots her captor a resentful look. "Death is sort of your thing, isn't it?"
He chuckles. Rey hates that nasty chuckle. "No, no, you have that all wrong," he laughs. "Avoiding death is my specialty. Come," he beckons. "We're done here on the bridge. Let me show you something important."
She declines. "Not now." She has enough to think about from this conversation.
But Darth Sidious won't take no for an answer. "Freya," he calls softly after her retreating form.
The name gets her attention. She pauses.
"I insist."
Rey half turns, raises an eyebrow, and glowers.
But her captor is unimpressed. "Don't make me ask again. We would both hate that," Darth Sidious threatens.