Chapter V: Phantom of the Ocean

Kef Bir's oceans simmered in the storm's wrath as wave after wave threw itself against the stony cliffs. The sea's deep-blue hue was a terrorising sight combined with the deep and constant thundering of the waves. But it was the desolate and dark ruins that drew Arielle's eye as she swept over in her TIE glimmer.

Most of it was smeared in mist, a cold shroud that only enhanced the wicked aura of the former battle station. What could be seen of the second Death Star's remains chilled Arielle to the bone. The superlaser emitter was very much visible and it curved sinisterly like a crescent moon. Even in pieces, it was still to be feared. The rest was jagged and scrap metal, but it seemed to Arielle, that it was watching her fly over. The Death Star II was a creature in itself and Arielle wasn't going to lie to herself. It scared her.

Almost as much as the forthcoming events – harrowing acts befitting of the surroundings.

For now, Arielle just needed to land. As much as her instincts were telling her to scram, she would have to find somewhere to park in these damned ruins. She had already seen the ship that Rey and her rebels had taken here, meaning everyone's favourite scavenger was likely already searching the debris for her grandfather's Wayfinder. Which meant the First Order's current supreme leader should have arrived by now.

A half-submerged and slanted hanger came into view – as good a place as any to land. It was mostly flooded, with the entire left side underwater – strange sea creatures with long, angular tentacles had already set up residence there. But thanks to the slant, the right side was intact. There were several salvageable TIE fighters parked around and, thankfully, the hallway leading deeper into the ruins remained undamaged. Arielle manoeuvred her own TIE past outstretching rubble and touched down in the hanger.

She climbed out of the cockpit and leaped onto the floor. Her boots made a splash in the water a couple of inches high, where a small, snake-like animal attempted to coil around her foot. Scowling, Arielle kicked it away. If she was already being greeted by the natives, what manner of beasts awaited within?

Probably the Jedi kind.

Shaking off the thought, Arielle strode towards and through the doorway. As could be expected, any lighting had long since shutdown and her way forwards was solely illuminated by what little sunlight could peek through the twisted metal. The hallway then was mostly engulfed in shadow, and the rust and decay quickly wormed its way into Arielle's nose – she cringed.

So, no visibility, no idea where I'm going or what's waiting, and, on top of all that, it stinks. She had been in this damned place for all of five minutes, and Arielle already wanted to leave. Maybe when she was done here, she would have it torn down and reduced to ashes. That would be a fun sight…

Fortunately, the hallway began to break off, as the damage to the wall increased the further along, she went. The ragged panels shifted into jagged edges until the corridor broke away all together. Bright light suddenly shone in Arielle's face and it was only a split-second reaction that stopped her from putting a foot down into nothingness.

She pulled back instantly and raised her hand to block out the light, which now shone fiercely, revealing a massive, open space.

And the abyss that lay beyond her.

It looked about fifty meters wide with no end in sight – only a milky blackness that seemed to swim with the dark side. Why is there always a bottomless chasm?

Beyond the gap, it was a scrapyard of wreaked machinery and shapeless fragments of steel. Infrequent droplets of water trickled down the debris, the sound echoing loudly. It all seemed to be of the same shade of grey and Arielle could have sworn it was smiling at her, daring her.

Arielle allowed herself one look down into the endless darkness before jumping. Using the Force, she propelled herself over the chasm and towards the nearest piece of debris. She made it – barely – and Arielle's fingers scratched and clung to the side as she landed against it. Arielle lifted herself up onto the top – only to leap to the next one.

And the next. And then the next.

Arielle had no idea where she was going, only what she was moving towards. Across the battle station, she could sense them: Rey and Kylo. The two heirs to the dark side. Perhaps they had already met and were fighting, but she could feel them – a presence in the Force as gaping as the chasm she had jumped across.

Time, as per usual, was not on her side. So, Arielle didn't let herself consider the heights or the risks or what she would look like if she missed her step and tumbled into the shadows below. Arielle just continued jumping.

Nienor tumbled to the ground.

Voe's two handed slash had been brought down with such a savagery that the reverberation had jolted through her, and Nienor collapsed under the sheer power of her opponent's attack. With as much effort as she could muster, Nienor quickly raised her green-bladed lightsaber over her head to block Voe's follow-up attack. Their blades connected and Nienor felt her strength deplete as Voe pressed her attack, pushing Nienor further into the ground.

The soft, full of dirt, ground.

With her spare hand, Nienor reached underneath her and touched the earth. She felt dirt and pebbles rally beneath her, so Nienor kicked Voe in the side, creating at opening that she flung the dirt through. Voe yelled as it struck her in the eyes and fell back. Seizing the opportunity, Nienor pulled herself up and swung at Voe.

Unfortunately, Voe recovered much faster than Nienor anticipated and her opponent side-stepped the assault. Before Nienor could react, Voe thrust the lightsaber forwards and all she could do was scream as the blade seared into her chest.

"Victory to Voe," Luke had called and Voe, red-eyed from where the dirt had struck her, revelled in her triumph.

The other students around them cheered while Nienor, still on the ground, had merely grumbled and rubbed her chest where the blade had caught her. Although it had been on a low power setting, the lightsaber had still hurt and Nienor had had no doubts that she would be wearing a bacta patch for the rest of the day.

This particular training session had occurred when Nienor had been sixteen, during a beautiful summer's afternoon. Yavin's sun had been shining but a cool breeze prevented any of Luke's ever-expanding Jedi order from growing too warm. Nienor had now been under Luke's guidance for seven years and, despite her skill growing, her precision during duels remained utterly atrocious. And that was being generous.

Even in the years following, that little detail had barely changed.

But where her sparring failed her, Nienor's Force-talents more than made up for it. They were still underdeveloped (Luke had remained eager to push Nienor's affinity) but they were a game-changer in duels.

Something her peers had been all too aware of.

"She cheated," Voe had sneered at Nienor once the applause had ceased, "you know you're not supposed to do that during fights."

"You won," snapped Nienor, the burn on her chest already making her feverish, "I lost; you're better than me. Isn't that enough?"

Voe's bloodshot eyes didn't waver. "I could have been blinded! It's not fair!"

In truth, Luke had actually asked Nienor not to use her abilities in combat, if only so she didn't find herself relying solely on her elemental influence. So Nienor had done this… until she realised that she was outmatched and would rather use her affinity rather than being constantly handed her arse.

"But you weren't," Nienor shot back.

Voe had looked as if she was ready for round two, only for Master Skywalker to step in to defuse the situation. He had praised Voe but hadn't condemned Nienor as she had expected.

"You expect Nienor to fight you fairly," Luke had lectured, "but your idea of fairly is rigidly based on your own terms and strengths. Voe, you want the battle to be based solely on your duelling abilities, of which yours are superior. Now, that can't seem very fair for Nienor. You shouldn't criticise an opponent for using their best strength against your own." Luke then surveyed all the pupils, who were looking at him with the usual awe. "If any of you are unfortunate to find yourselves in a real battle, you will find that any idea of a fair fight will depend greatly on your point of view."

Nienor and Voe had both cooled down at that, and the latter had ever muttered an apology. But for Nienor, the words Master Skywalker imparted on her continued to gnaw at her for years to come ad Nienor came to decide that, in any skirmish she would find herself in, the fight must always work to her advantage.

The onlooking students had then dispersed to their various activities. Tai and Hennix came forth to tend to Voe's eyes, all while sending scowls over to Nienor. She scowled right back.

Nienor's ability to make friends paralleled her duelling.

But with the burn starting to really sting, she had just trudged back to her own hut where Ben had been waiting, a cocky smile already plastered on his face.

He dangled bacta patches in front of her. "Need these?"

Nienor grimaced and snatched the patches. "Kriff off." Ben had chuckled and moved to shut the cabin's door while Nienor perched herself on the bed.

The cabin had been small and circular, enough room for a single bed, a chest full of clothes and space for exercise – a perfect size really. Its walls were wooden while the ground was composed of the natural ground. But while the other cabin floors were smooth and even, Nienor's had obviously been churned up several times – courtesy of her practising – and so was irregular in places and fissured.

She liked her cabin, but somehow, with the door closed and Ben sharing the space with her, Nienor found the room was suddenly too small.

"Well turn around then," she barked. Ben's grin widened, but he still complied. Only when he had been completely facing the opposite direction did Nienor remove her sleeveless, beige overtunic – the unofficial uniform of Luke's Jedi Order. A little more hesitantly, she stripped off her undertunic, leaving Nienor naked from the waist upwards. To her delight, she felt Ben stiffen ever so slightly through the Force.

In spite of their separate genders, Nienor had never shied away from changing in Ben's company, and vice versa. As long as he kept his eyes looking the opposite way when required, she would have clad herself in nothing but her skin. But as they grew older, Nienor couldn't quite deny a certain… fascination with Ben's toned body. And, as she often noted, it was a shared sentiment.

But Nienor still didn't waste any time in grabbing her black tank top from under bed and pulling it over her head. Comfortable and vastly preferable to the robes. "Clear" she called.

Ben turned to face her as Nienor attached the bacta patch to the burn on her chest. Even on the lowest of power settings, a lightsaber bite still hurt like hell, a pain that Nienor had been discovering on almost a weekly – occasionally daily – occurrence.

Bottom-line: Never was terrible at fighting.

"You're terrible at fighting," Ben quipped.

Not that she needed him to point that out.

Nienor glared at him. "We can't all be the mighty heir to the oh-so-legendary Skywalker bloodline."

"No, but you can be better than the younglings."

"Prick."

Ben had snickered again and stepped closer to Nienor. "Seeing as though I don't particularly enjoy seeing Voe sending you to kiss the ground-" she wacked him on the arm and his smile grew "-you should do some extra training sessions with me. Evening – in the woods. Like we used to."

The offer was one he had made many times. Nienor's answer remained unchanged.

"Kriff off," she repeated and stood up to walk away, elbowing Ben in the stomach as she passed.

"Nienor-" Ben turned and grabbed her arm. She didn't resist as Ben pulled her closer until their faces were almost touching. It felt strangely nice. "Why won't you let me help you anymore?"

When they had been younger, Ben had helped Nienor after almost every lesson; every time she had struggled with Luke's teachings, Ben had helped her understand.

She used to love it, used to adore the attention the slightly older boy had gave her. Voe always sent over looks of pure jealousy as none of the other students got the special status with Luke's prize pupil. Nienor's response had been to blow over a kiss – and Voe had looked as if she would combust.

Because she's younger than you Ben had argued when he was asked by the others, because she struggles more. Initially, Nienor had believed the reasons Ben gave but, as she progressed, she had come to realise it wasn't the help he gave that she loved, but the comradery. The feeling that she wasn't alone. A feeling that Ben realised long before she did.

And so, for three years, Nienor trained with Ben for an extra hour in the evening every day. But as the years went by, she began to come up with excuses to get out of them, blaming tiredness or aches, until their sessions stopped altogether. Ben hadn't pushed the matter, but he was constantly trying to start them up with her again, citing that she definitely needed them.

Nienor didn't pull away from Ben's grip but firmed up her stance and looked up into his creamy brown eyes. "Because you're better than me."

Ben's face funnelled into one of confusion. "Yeah, that's why I'm the one teaching you."

She sighed and pulled a strand of hair back behind her ear. "At the start, yes, that was why. But it was a catch-up session," she fought to keep her voice even, but Nienor felt it break slightly. "I was catching-up for three years. You think you don't like watching me get my ass handed to me. Think about how I must feel. To have Master Skywalker's nephew train me for ages, and I'm barely any better. It's embarrassing."

Nienor had gotten up on her tiptoes, making her closer still to Ben, who was now gazing at her intensely. "You don't want to get better because you're embarrassed to get better?" He arched an eyebrow. "What's so embarrassing about that?"

"Spoken like someone who's never needed to get any better."

"I can't help being the best." Ben's tone and smile felt cocky, but Nienor could sense his panic. As if he was afraid to argue properly with her. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm not trying to embarrass you," he amended, "I'm trying to…" he stammered – which was such an un-Ben like thing that Nienor smirked. She doubted that would help.

He had opened his mouth again and looked as if he wanted to say something more.

What he did instead had surprised Nienor much more.

Ben kissed her.

A soft, fleeting brush of his lips against hers, and yet it still electrified every nerve in her body. Ben pulled back, his face burning bright red. "Impress you," he finished – waiting to see what Nienor's reaction would be.

"Oh," had been all she could utter. And then she pounced.

Nienor reached up and pulled Ben's mouth down to meet her, kissing hardly and intensely. She could sense his surprise and delight and she had reached out into his mind – finding it filled with thoughts of desire and of her. It pleased her.

She eventually pulled back and shoved him playfully in the chest. "Consider me impressed," Nienor grinned sweetly.

Ben laughed, completely unabashed. "Does this mean our one-one-ones are back on? Now there are… other reasons to go."

"Your idea of spending quality time with me involves hitting people and levitating rocks? So romantic."

After that, Nienor had resumed her extra sessions with Ben, although they were now primarily spent with other activities, deep in the woods where no-one could disturb them. Between these bouts with Ben – that steadily began to involve less and less clothes – and her discovery of the less-savoury section of the Holonet, Nienor would recall these times as the happiest in her life. Before the darkness swept in to claim Ben for its own and their intimate relationship faded away.

Pure, unobstructed sunlight shone through a gap and Arielle hurled herself through, landing outside and at the very top of the ruins. She breathed in the sea air and sank down onto her knee – panting rapidly. It had taken a great deal more strength to make her way through, but Arielle was now through.

She took in her surrounding; she had emerged on the other side of the wreckage, which was plagued with debris, scraps, and the barrage of tidal waves booming against it. This high up, the mist remained as thick as soup, but Arielle could now survey the surroundings without her sight being blocked by hewn metal. Before her lay a relatively clear stretch of the ruins, and after that…

The Emperor's tower jutted out, somehow miraculously intact. No sign of either Kylo nor Rey, but Arielle could now sense that the pair that interacted – and fighting. Good.

With little time to lose, Arielle gathered her strength and sprinted forwards. The strain on her legs and hips were immense and Arielle didn't bother to stifle the gasps that arose from her. By the time she arrived at the tower, she leaned against the wall and drank deeply on the air.

"Bad time, little one?"

Arielle snatched up her lightsaber and whirled, igniting the crimson blade – directing the blade towards the speaker. He had visibly withered since the last time she had saw him, with longer, wispier hair, along with two, fleshy hands. Dismay rather than age lined his face and the light in his eyes had dimmed. But there was no doubt that before Arielle stood, glowing a ghostly blue, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker.

She deactivated her weapon – for all the good it would do against the dead.

"What do you want?" she hissed. Encountering the ghost of Luke Skywalker had not been on her to-do list – ever. Maybe it was shame, but she never again had wanted to talk to her old master.

Unlike Kylo, Arielle had held no grudge against him, certainly not believing the story that Luke had tried to assassinate him. Master Skywalker had taught her the ways of the Force; Luke had been her mentor, her friend… Luke had been Nienor Helltze's hero.

And it was fear – undiluted fear – that now gripped Arielle as her dead master looked her up and down, smiling sadly.

"Look at what you have become." He sighed and looked into her eyes, like he could see into her soul. Arielle wouldn't have doubted it. "I failed you Nienor. You and Ben both."

Arielle ignored Luke's use of her original name, though she still felt a sharp punch within. "Look at what you've become."

"A Force ghost, the results of my training with…" He inclined his head. "Well, I suppose you know."

She ignored that as well. "What do you want?"

Luke turned his gaze beyond her, as if he could see his two favourite students in the distance. His legacy of the light and the dark. "Death has certain advantages, such as information on particular people. Their plans that will end in a great deal of bloodshed."

Arielle cocked her head. "You know?"

"Everything."

Well, that really was not good. Arielle knew she should snarl, compel Luke to stay silent on the information that could jeopardize her entire operation, but… "So, you understand what needs to be done," she said, a silent plea for him to understand, to comfort her, tell her it would be alright, and all was forgiven and…

"You do not have to do this, Nienor," Luke begged, and her heart sank. "You do not have to be a pawn in their game."

"I am no one's pawn," snapped Arielle, "least of all, yours." She didn't hide her disappointment. Of all people, Luke, should realise what she had to do, what needed to be done.

"Is this what you want then?" Luke's voice had lowered to a rumble, the kind she had previously heard just before he was about to start shouting. "To murder millions?"

No. "Yes."

Luke moved towards her, towering over Arielle. "Your thoughts betray you, little one." Kriff. "Do you even remember what your father told you the day you joined me – the promise you made?"

Another gut punch, but Arielle simply raised an eyebrow – the only surprise she would allow herself to show. "You remember?"

"I remember recruiting all my students," Luke admitted, "but especially you. I was acting on an instinct that day. A feeling that led me all the way to Naboo. At the time, I thought it was just the Force guiding me… but now…"

He dared another step forward, but Arielle didn't yield any ground. "Now I know what was tugging my strings." He exhaled heavily and the look of pity Luke gave her made Arielle want to disembowel him. "I wonder if any decision you've ever made has been entirely your own."

The words found their mark and Arielle flinched. It had always been something she'd speculated about, but hearing the confirmation that it hadn't been mere chance Luke had found her – that she'd been a puppet her entire life… It made Arielle see red.

"So what?" She inched towards him until they were almost touching. "If I've been on this path since I was a kid, I see no reason to stop now." Arielle gave the old man a pout. "I relish a little slaughter."

"I also wonder how long you've been lying to yourself."

The disgust on his face made her understand Kylo's vendetta just a little bit better.

"Nienor-," he began, but Arielle cut him off. "You're dead – along with the entire kriffing Jedi Order. You're a ghost in more ways than one." She turned her back and stalked away. If Rey and Kylo had already engaged in combat, then this little interruption had cost her valuable time.

Even as she walked away, something in her chest crumbled and tears spiked in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away. Arielle didn't stop at Luke's final words, but she heard them all the same.

"I will await you in the wellspring."

The glacial waves crashed against Arielle as she hurried along. Having examined the Emperor's tower – and surveyed traces of lightsaber burns alongside a crushed Wayfinder – she was now rushing towards where Rey and Kylo Ren were no doubt fighting. The water tore at her sides, but Arielle shrugged it off.

I wonder if any decision you've ever made has been entirely your own. The words continued to clang through her, but Arielle pushed them away. She could afford no distractions – any hint of doubt could ruin everything.

She saw the edge of the ruins and the floating line of wreckage beyond it.

And, near imperceivably, the red and blue of two plasma blades.

Arielle let herself surge forwards. She landed down on the long, metallic chain, visibly rusting under the fury of the crashing of waves that filled her ears and ran.

The combatants were still a fair way ahead, but Arielle could just make out the fight. Rey was on the offensive, putting all her effort into blocking Kylo's backhanded strikes. They still hadn't noticed her as yet another colossal wave threw itself between them. The mist cleared and Rey turned her head.

She saw Arielle.

Anger was truly a powerful thing.

But as it turned out, it was like a drug. Potent, but addictive, and it took every ounce of Rey's depleting strength to keep that endless pit of raw rage down.

She was losing; she could feel it in every blow Kylo sent her way. That calm, almost serene, face yielded no emotion, no hint of feeling, as he brought his cracking blade down on hers. Again, and again.

That well of anger clawed and kicked – screamed at Rey to be used. She had ignored it; better to die a Jedi than live to be a Sith – like her grandfather.

She had just dodged another of Kylo's strikes when another presence stirred behind her. One Rey knew all too well. She turned her head.

Rey saw Arielle.

And some kind of tether in her snapped.

She let that sweet, soothing hate wash over her.

Kylo swung at her but Rey's hand shot out and sent a pulse of that hate into his direction. His Force-shield shattered in surprise and the dark warrior was sent flying back.

Rey didn't let herself look to see what had become of Kylo but grasped her hand firmly on the Skywalker lightsaber. She leaped and Arielle ignited her own weapon – a gnarled, elongated hilt with a bloodred blade – to block Rey's two-handed strike. A blur of slashes and slices.

It's a dance, Rey mused, parrying Ren's attempt on her face and then her leg, one lethal and fluid dance. She fell back on instinct, twirling the lightsaber in her hand. Ren mimicked the movement and smirked.

The sight was like pouring a tonne of fuel into an already raging bonfire.

"The dark side suits you," the bitch crooned, "I bet Kylo darling would love you in black."

Rey imagined hacking Arielle up till she was dust. It would please her. Please Finn too.

No, it wouldn't! Something in her pleaded. What are you doing, Rey?!

"Such defiance," Ren hummed, as though she could hear the argument warring in Rey's mind. Maybe she could.

Kill her! Don't kill her, it's not the Jedi way! Hang the Jedi way!

In her distraction, Ren lunged, aiming a blow at Rey's head. The attack went wide as Rey blindly flung out both hands, wanting to push her back.

The flash and cackle of Force lightning erupting from her hands instead certainly shocked Rey.

The electric force slammed into Arielle's chest and she fell to the floor, steam spewing off her as she gasped for breath. Trembling, Rey brought her hand up to her face. No…

A crackle sounded behind her and Rey spun, barely blocking Kylo's lightsaber strike. The supreme leader's face had twisted into a snarl and he pressed the attack. Her distraction at the lightning had shaken Rey's focus and her weapon was loose in her hand – Kylo took full advantage of it.

A vehement swing of his blade, and the impact sent Rey's lightsaber soaring away. Simultaneously, both Rey and the hilt dropped to the cold steel ground. Rey glared up at the victor, determined not to let any fright at what was coming show.

Kylo's face remained unchanged – cold and entirely lethal – even if his mind betrayed him. Rey sensed the turmoil as he lifted his arm. She refused to drop her stare – she could at least die with her pride intact.

And then his entire posture changed as something smashed into them. A presence, a wraith, a schism of energy. Ben it seemed to say. Rey vaguely recognised that voice, but she was already moving before she could fully contemplate it – he was distracted.

Kylo's lightsaber fell from his hand and Rey clasped it, spun, and drove the blade into his body.

Arielle struggled to her feet – kriff, that girl was tough. The Force lightning had been unanticipated – just like this.

That presence – different to the one Palpatine had omitted. That was filled with hate and power, but this… remorse. And love.

Definitely not for her, but Arielle would have kissed it for the results it had yielded. Rey – thrusting Kylo's own lightsaber into his torso. A mortal wound.

Rey suddenly seemed to realise it too as she looked – really looked – at what she had done. Kylo had sank to his knees, his breathing already unsteady. His life aura flicked slightly – minutes; he had minutes to live. Arielle skulked towards them as Rey's face contorted into horror.

"Leia," she breathed, and the anguish in her voice told Arielle enough. The Resistance general and last Princess of Alderaan was dead. Kylo's mother was dead. And her son was not far off.

Rey turned to Arielle. "Please." The word broke from the Jedi's lips. "Help me save him."

"And why would I want to do that?" Arielle purred. The words cracked both her own heart and the hope in her enemy's face. Even Kylo's laboured breathing briefly stopped.

Arielle prowled ever closer to Rey, who used the Force to summon her lightsaber. "What are talking about?" Rey quietly asked.

"I wanted you to kill him," Arielle responded, now only five meters away from Rey. "Why else would I send you here – send you both here – where you could fight to the death." She waved a hand towards Kylo's dying body and winked. "Excellent move by the way. Letting him mourn for his mother while you plunge an energy blade into poor Ben."

Arielle couldn't tell if it was tears or just seawater that scurried down Rey's cheeks as she held up her lightsaber. "You're a monster," she hissed as anger clouded her eyes.

"You've played your part," Arielle continued, pretending she hadn't heard Rey, "and the board no longer warrants your presence."

The grief faded, replaced by determination in Rey's eyes as she realised how this was going to play out – only one of them would be walking away.

Rey raised her own blue lightsaber… and Kylo's red one. She crossed the pair of lightsabers across her face, alive with a calm void of fury. "Not today."

This is where the fun begins. Arielle grasped the hilt of her own lightsaber hilt and raised it horizontally. One blade came out and she savoured Rey's look of shock as a second blade ejected from the opposite end. She twirled her saberstaff – a challenge to the last Jedi.

"Die with dignity," Arielle ordered. She attacked.

In spite of everything, Rey couldn't deny that Arielle – arduous bitch she may be – had an extremely awesome lightsaber. If I ever get to build my own lightsaber, Rey mused as she intercepted a jab at her side, I'm going to have a double-bladed one.

As she thought it, in between their slashes and parried, Rey could have sworn Arielle laughed faintly.

Rey stepped back from her opponent and took up another stance, awaiting Ren's next attack. It was weird – using two lightsabers at once. Everything in her left hand felt wrong and Rey silently cursed herself for becoming too reliant on one hand. Then again, the sizzling blade itself felt like it was repelling her.

She took that as a compliment – to see the dark side reject her.

Leia was dead, Kylo was dying – to use the dark side now was so tempting. It was squirming and cooing inside her, but Rey ignored it. She could ignore it.

Using it before had left Kylo near-death – would be dead if Rey couldn't defeat Arielle and heal him in time. Using the dark side was about as good as downing ten gallons of Corellian booze. Fantastic at the time… until the day after. Rey had no desire to repeat that experience.

That had been a wild evening with Finn, the friend no longer with her. Arielle had taken one loved person from Rey – never again.

She swung the crossguard blade, one of the vents skimming Ren's neck, leaving a glowing auburn sizzle. She hissed and Rey pushed the assault, bringing both of her blades down on both of Arielle's.

Rey knew she wasn't just fighting for her own life, but for Ben's as well.

She's better than me.

The realisation stunned Arielle.

Eight months of training and somehow the scavenger Jedi had exceeded her in lightsaber duelling. Even though Arielle had never pretended to be a particularly skilled duellist, it still felt humiliating.

Especially, Arielle bitterly thought, as I'm currently duelling said better duellist.

She deflected another blow and rotated her blade. Rey using two different lightsabers was making it difficult, but Arielle knew that her saberstaff was producing an awkward fight for the Jedi. Part of the reason Arielle had opted for a double-bladed lightsaber in the first place had been to ensure any duels she entered would be cumbersome for her opponents – giving the advantage to her.

Unfortunately – Rey was not nearly on the back foot as Arielle imagined she would have been. As if the scavenger was used to using and defending against a long staff.

Fortunately – Arielle had another weapon in her arsenal.

She avoided Rey's synchronic thrusts and treaded backwards, where waves were still dashing into the debris. Arielle stretched out her spare hand behind her – connecting with those waves.

The sea thrashed and rippled under Arielle's grasp, but it yielded to her. A gush of frigid water answered her call and darted into her hand, where Arielle released it – flinging the projectile towards Rey…

…where it rebounded harmlessly against Rey's outraised forearm – an impenetrable Force shield encompassing it. "Fool me once," she snarled softly.

Kriff.

Kriff.

And double kriff.

After her sand-induced loss, Rey had promised herself she would never be caught unaware by one of Arielle's environmental tempests. During the trip to Kef Bir, after steadying herself after the little chat with Kylo, Rey had practised and practised her shielding for the remainder of the journey. Up and down. Adding layer after layer. Threepio had eagerly helped in chunking items at her until Rey was satisfied that her Force shield was ready.

Ready for her rematch with Arielle Ren.

Rey couldn't help returning Arielle's panther-smirk as the knight's water blast splashed back into the sea. Ren was noticeably panting now – struggling to keep up with Rey's slashes.

She had seemed so powerful before, with abilities Rey had never imagined and precision unlike any she'd seen. But that had been when Rey was in a feral state – pummelling without reason and in complete disarray.

Now Rey was more focused than she had even been. The losses that marred her were shoved down deep and could be hauled up later. The dark side within was a mumble.

That glimmer of identity and faith that Luke and Leia had lit was burning bright – bolstering her arms and invigorating her mind. Rey hoped this was what is meant to be a Jedi.

She turned sideways and lifted one lightsaber over her head but kept both pointing towards Ren – just like she'd seen in the old holocrons.

Then she darted forward, swinging both blades in unions at Arielle. Rey attacked left and right, aimed for the head and the feet – all designed to ware Ren down. Arielle's attacks became slower, sluggish even. Rey kept the assault up – even backing down for a moment would leave Arielle with time to recover.

Ben's life aura was fading rapidly – Rey had no time to waste.

Too fast, too much.

In between parries and evasions, blocks and stunted swipes, Arielle reflected on whether it would have been easier to fight Kylo to the death rather than Rey.

Her resolve was draining and limbs tiring. It didn't even surprise Arielle when she made her mistake.

She barred a high strike against the blazing lightsaber, leaving her entire arm exposed.

That mighty Skywalker lightsaber flashed and kissed Arielle's wide-open arm, cleaving the right hand away from the rest of her.

I needed that, Arielle thought dimly as her hand sank into the sea.

The sight of Arielle's lightsaber-hand soaring away into Kef Bir's restless sea sickened Rey.

She had seen her chance – taken it without a second thought. But now the reality set in and, somehow, the sight of Arielle Ren sinking to her knees, her remaining fingers gripping the smouldering stump on her right arm, did not please Rey as much as she though it would.

Rey loathed Arielle – hated her so much for killing Finn. She had sworn vengeance in a not-very-Jedi moment. Rey planted that seed, believing she would relish eating it, but the fruit did not taste so sweet.

Arielle was not weeping or even begging for mercy. The pain must have been horrific, yet she seemed composed. Her face was placid, yet an icy mania seemed to be creeping into those – beautiful, Rey thought – hazel eyes.

Do it! something inside her whispered. She must, Rey supposed, before Ben's injuries claimed him forever.

But must another die today?

Rey allowed herself another moment to consider – and then remorsefully raised the crossguard lightsaber, a pathetic part of her not wanting to debase the Skywalker one.

"I'm sorry," Rey said, refusing to hide the sourness in her voice. A deserved execution – but an execution, nonetheless.

"Rey Palpatine." A strained, mellow voice escaped the defeated knight. "You are a true Jedi."

Rey arched an eyebrow at the comment and Arielle lifted her head, her short hair flapping in the breeze and scars gleaming – her most recent one now cooled and char-black against her haggard skin.

Arielle flourished that all-too-familiar smirk. The sneer of a predator.

Mocking the prey snared in her trap.

The crash of a wave bellowed behind Rey.

The stump where her right hand had been shrieked with pain. No blood – instant cauterisation from a lightsaber wound. Doesn't stop it hurting like hell.

For once, Arielle was thankful towards the Knights of Ren and the training that kept her focused – mastering the pain. She kept up a mask of tranquillity imbued with pain.

The scavenger Jedi was hesitating – perhaps ashamed at lobbing off her hand? Arielle didn't mind – not when Rey was addled. Unfocused.

Arielle clamped down on the stump with her remaining fist, drawing the agony into her spirit. Amidst the salvo of torment, she felt the world sharpen around her. The nerves in her right arm howled and the waves howled right alongside it.

In the distance, the sea swelled, gushing stronger than it should – the crest higher than it ever had been. Up and up it grew, a mountain of salt and sea. The Jedi's distress must have been extreme indeed, to not sense the rising ridge of Arielle's tidal wave.

From the depths, a wave loomed, and Arielle gave her favourite simper to Rey as the very ocean let loose its battle cry. It began to charge.

Rey turned – too late, far too late – and her eyes widened at the doom rapidly approaching. She dropped both lightsabers in her hysteria and they clattered to the ground as Rey stretched out her arms to repel the wave.

Arielle uncoiled, shooting to her feet – her left arm bursting forwards. The wave was a flood, mobile and unfixed – so Arielle released the reverse.

An unbreaking currant of the dark side sprang from her fingertips – demolishing the Force shields, already fractured in the scavengers' panic – right into the spine.

An abhorrent snap sundered the air.

Rey's head jerked to the side – eyes unseeing and mouth unbreathing. A shudder went through Arielle as the last Jedi toppled to the rusted floor.

She landed on her back and Arielle gave herself a moment to stare into those vacant eyes – full of defiance and light mere moments ago. Arielle jumped as the wave – the tide she had summoned to divert Rey's attention and now without hers to hold it together – crumbled back into the sea. The sound brought Arielle back into the world and she exhaled miserably. One down…

The pain in her right arm was barely tolerable, but she knew she would have to manage it. Arielle stagged to her feet and glanced down. Her own saberstaff had joined her right hand in its expedition to the bottom of the sea – a shame; Arielle had liked that lightsaber.

Luckily, it wasn't as if there was a shortage of lightsabers. Arielle extended her hand and the Skywalker heirloom glided over from the corpse of its previous owner to its new master. She stroked it and it was warm and welcoming to her touch. Perhaps after years of heroics, the weapon was eager for some gore.

Half-stumbling, Arielle made her way over to where Kylo Ren was seated. He was leaning against an upturned panel and his handsome features had eroded into ashen ones – the hole in his side having cooled ages ago and was now a beastly black stain.

If the wound and sporadic briefing weren't enough, his fading life aura confirmed it. The invincible Kylo Ren was nearly a cold sag of meat.

His eyes flickered open – lovely, deep brown eyes filled with muted pain, from the recent deaths or his own wound, Arielle wasn't sure. Maybe both. Or possibly his oldest friend's betrayal.

Why? The word was hollow, defeated – even in her mind. Maybe he was too weak to vocalise it, but the use of their mental chat gave Arielle a sharp reminder of their past. Of whom she had condemned to death.

"Why?" Arielle echoed out-loud. "As in, why did I ensure you and the recently-departed Rey fought each other to the death? Because I can't beat you. Because you're better than me." The memories of Nienor Helltze glaring up at Ben Solo and spitting out the same phrase glittered in Arielle's mind. "I'm no duellist. To face you would be suicide."

She gestured over to Rey's corpse, lying in her watery grave. "But her? If her track record was any indication, darling Rey stood a much bigger chance against you. And look at where you are." Arielle held up what was left of her fighting arm and a bitter smile formed on Kylo's face. "Look at where we both are. The next phase of my plan is going to be infinitely more difficult."

The smile faded. Why? Kylo repeated and Arielle again knew what he meant.

Why it all?

She leaned over and whispered it into his ear – whispered of her own rebirth the night Ben Solo burned the Jedi temple and set this entire chain of events in motion. The contents of her vision – and who had sent it.

When she finished it, Arielle pulled back and watched Kylo's eyes gaze into hers. Amazement and sorrow coated that familiar sight – eyes that she once would have got lost in. Arielle stared into his and that familiar desire woke up.

She reached forward and kissed him, savouring the taste of him one final time.

Even as his lips sank into hers, the pain of his wound was obvious. It would be a slow death. Not something she would wish upon anyone.

So, without breaking away from him, Arielle rested the hilt of his family's lightsaber onto Kylo Ren's chest, directly over his heart, and activated it.