Chapter 8: The Bond Opens
"I know I took the path that you would never want for me
I know I let you down, didn't I?
So many sleepless nights where you were waiting up on me.
Well I'm just a slave unto the night."
-I Bet My Life, Imagine Dragons
23 ABY
Ben Solo was losing his mind.
As he carefully nudged his ship—a battered old X-wing—towards the planet's surface, he tried and failed to clear his thoughts. His increasing inability to compartmentalize was driving him mad, and more importantly, adding a layer of complexity and danger to each of his interactions with Snoke.
The truth was, he had assumed that several days absence from Yavin 4 would provide him with the time and space to regain his shattered equilibrium and refocus on his training. After almost two weeks of the newly minted hell that his life had recently become, he'd been all too ready to run away.
It wasn't that he hated living at the temple. Despite his constant head-butting with Skywalker, becoming a Jedi had always held a certain allure for the young Solo. Furthermore, recent times had brought a marked decrease in the feelings of abandonment, desolation, and irrational anger that had characterized the last decade or more of his life. He felt as if the imminent sense of doom that had shadowed him since childhood had shifted in a way that made life altogether more bearable.
Or it would have been bearable, if not for the incessant distraction that was Skywalker's latest apprentice. Rey.
The girl set his teeth on edge in a way that he couldn't explain. When she was in a room, he could feel her eyes on him like the gentle brush of a bird's wing. When they were apart, it was even worse.
"Solo, there's a bluff just north of the settlement," Serai's voice burst over the intercom. "Setting down there, follow my lead."
Ben grunted in response and initiated the landing sequence. Serai was a good fighter, but he could have done without her constant bossiness.
Their quartet of X-wings broke through the cloud cover, revealing another layer of pristine whiteness below them—snow. Csilla was known for its icy climate, but even Ben was surprised by the utter desolation of the planet. It wasn't uncommon for Skywalker to send his older apprentices on the occasional diplomatic or peacekeeping mission, but they had never before strayed this far from home.
"Master Luke's contact agreed to meet us at noon, so we'll need to hurry," Kora's voice broke through with a faint hiss of static.
Ben guided his spacecraft in a swooping arc towards the bluff Serai had indicated, holding the yoke in a firm but steady grip.
He had been called into Skywalker's study two days previously and had arrived to find the rest of his cohort already settled in chairs before the Jedi master's desk. Skywalker had glanced up briefly and nodded to a sixth seat, reserved for Ben.
"Excellent," he had said. "You are all here because I was contacted recently by the Chiss Ascendency. They are currently dealing with a terrorist cell that has targeted several of their mining outposts. The group is estimated to be very small, and has been using a hit-and-run tactic that has prevented the Chiss from locating their base of operations, although it is suspected that they are remaining planetside. An old friend of mine reached out to me in hopes that I might be able to help—given what she has told me, it seems that the main barrier to a Chiss victory isn't lack of firepower—it's a dearth of information. That being said, I believe this is an excellent opportunity for several of you to put your skills to the test by leading a reconnaissance mission to Csilla. Find the terrorists, report to the Ascendency, and let their government handle the situation."
Ben had volunteered in record time, desperate for any opportunity to get away from Yavin 4. He recalled Skywalker's reticent look, his cautious appraisal, as if the old master had been wondering whether sending Ben to another planet—high strung and tense as he was—would end in disaster. The memory made him grit his teeth angrily, clenching his hands around the controls until his leather gloves squeaked in protest. He hated Luke's mistrust, almost as much as he hated his emotional distance.
In the end his participation had been approved, and he had left eagerly, trying to pretend that he hadn't felt the girl's heartbroken gaze like a dagger between his shoulder blades as he'd boarded his X-wing. She was safer now, anyways.
It wasn't entirely Rey's fault that Ben had been so eager to leave Yavin 4, although she had certainly played a role in his decision. He had thought initially that it would be easy to push her away, and for a time, it had been. Despite several early failings on his own part, he had succeeded in throwing up a front of vitriol and aggression that had persuaded her to keep her distance. The past week and a half had seen very few interactions between the two, although Ben could practically sense her happiness withering inside of her like a dying flower.
Not your fault, he told himself. She probably just misses Han.
No, Rey had been nothing but respectful of his need to stay away from her—a characteristic that surprised him in such a young child. If he had expected tantrums and pleas of why won't you acknowledge me, he hadn't gotten them from her. Which was gratifying, except that his own traitorous mind seemed less capable of coping with their separation than hers did. The more her connection with the Force deepened, the more impossible it was for him to avoid her. Each day her strength grew, and each day he was made to suffer through the constant presence of her, like a scent that always lingered in a room after her passing, or a soft gaze on his back even when she was nowhere to be seen. These interactions alone he could have borne, but the lingering sense that she needed his protection refused to be shaken. It was maddening, and it killed him that he didn't understand why.
It was clear that they shared some form of connection—his constant ability to sense her in the Force told him as much. Besides which, he ordinarily disliked children for their neediness and petulance—even in the years of his own youth he had felt a healthy sense of disdain for his incessantly chattering, emotionally unconstrained peers. Rey was quiet, and had a certain gravity about her, but Ben was still certain that there was something else at work.
He had known immediately that she was immensely powerful in the Force. From the moment he had opened his eyes and found her standing in the courtyard, arms hanging limply at her sides and lips slightly parted in surprise, he had also known that she was, for some inexplicable reason, incredibly important to him. But he still couldn't lay a finger on why, exactly, that was the case.
As new as she was to the Force, she couldn't possibly fathom the strangeness that was their connection. Ben certainly didn't have the strength—or the patience—to explain to her that whatever draw she felt towards him wasn't normal. Perhaps to her it seemed natural—the perpetual awareness, the unwavering pull on his attention—like she was a magnet and he a compass. Or perhaps she didn't feel it at all, didn't sense him in every waking moment, as he did her. Perhaps she wasn't maddened by his company and split open by his absence. But then why had she sought him out so? Why had she worn his armband and gazed at his name carved into the Falcon, and sent a vision across the galaxy to bring them together? Why had she watched him so tragically as he had boarded his X-wing and flown away?
These were the questions that Ben Solo mulled over almost constantly in the moments when Snoke was elsewhere. When he sensed his companion returning, he tucked them away like the leaves of a book, bound up in a swath of inconsequence and hidden on a shelf of his mind where they could escape notice—barred in and locked down more securely than the strongest prison.
Skywalker has sent her away, Ben had told his friend on the day after Rey's arrival. He had crafted a memory—half real, half-imagined—of Rey walking to the Falcon at Han Solo's side. He had felt miserable for spying on her heartfelt goodbyes, but had been impossibly drawn at the same time. It had been many months since he had seen his parents, and it was with a sharp stab of jealousy that he watched them embrace Rey before their departure.
In his version of the memory, however, rather than hugging his father and stepping back, Rey had boarded the ship and vanished into the depths of the galaxy with Han, Leia, and Chewie. He had shown the memory to Snoke, tucking the real version away for safe-keeping.
See? he had said. Gone. Han is taking her to an orphanage—I'm not sure where. They wouldn't tell me.
Snoke had seemed suspicious but had accepted the answer after carefully scanning Ben's mind for deceit.
Tell me if you hear of her again, his companion had requested. She may be important.
Ben had trained his thoughts to hide his disapproval and acquiesced lightly. He felt both terribly guilt for lying to his only friend, and utter conviction that this choice was the only one. He trusted Snoke with most anything, but not with Rey.
The original lie had been difficult, but what had followed had been a painstaking effort in self-control.
He was simultaneously drawn to the girl, and driven by the need to stay as far away from her as possible. Anything that provoked strong emotions—anger, surprise, excitement—would draw Snoke to his mind like a fly to honey. Rey ignited all of these in him, and then some. It was like living a double life—perceiving her before him while trying to hide her—and any thoughts of her—from Snoke's roaming eye.
When he was in her presence it was almost impossibly difficult. He remembered catching sight of her armband at dinner and trying desperately slam down the shock that had coursed through him, accompanied by something else—a flicker of warmth. He was glad to see it on her, as if it somehow marked her as his. His to protect, his to watch over. A warning that if anyone harmed her, they would have him to deal with. None of the other padawans had known the warning for what it was, but it hadn't mattered.
Unfortunately, Snoke had also caught wind of his surge of agitation, and had poured into his mind like syrup into a glass. Panicked, Ben had projected a second image to Snoke—of a table, like the one he sat at, but without Rey. Without even the chair she sat in. The focus required nearly destroyed him, and he had staggered up from his chair with a desperate request to be released.
After that he had realized that he could have no further interactions with the girl. Thinking her name, even standing in the same room as her, was a risk too great to be taken. He would hold her at arm's length, avoid her as best he could, but kindly. He couldn't bear to see her upset, for any thought of the tears he had caused her brought forth a sense of such wretched self-loathing that he feared Snoke's arrival.
When she had reached out to touch his mind for the first time, he had utterly panicked. The thought of her brushing his consciousness in a moment when Snoke was present was almost too terrible to fathom. So, he had driven her away with his cruelest words, rejecting her analogy for the Force between them despite the shaky hopefulness it had awakened in his heart. He could see it, too, the way the Force swirled around them and between them. He knew it wasn't ordinary, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Master Skywalker and the other padawans couldn't sense it—if they could have, Ben doubted that Rey would have been allowed to stay on Yavin 4. His uncle didn't trust him.
But it was their connection, invisible to all others. Just for them.
After that interaction, Rey had stayed away, at least physically. Ben had known, upon finding her apology and the bracelet, that she would not pursue his company any further. She had honored that silent promise, and it killed him.
She's a kriffing child, you idiot, he berated himself, drawing out of his musings to check his trajectory. It shouldn't matter to you!
The thought didn't stop him from pressing his palm over his breast pocket to check that the bracelet was still there.
"Solo, come in Solo," Serai's voice crackled through the comms in a tone indicating that she had called his name more than once before. "Are you going to land, or just keep circling up there?"
Ben grunted briefly in reponse and angled his X-wing downwards, extending the landing gear and coming to rest beside the other three crafts. Disembarking, he checked that his saber was clipped at his belt and adjusted his heavy winter cloak to shield himself from the biting wind. He and his three companions had donned pale garb to match their surroundings, which would have been effective had it not been for the unruly mane of dark hair swirling around his face.
"We'll head in to town on foot," Serai said, rounding the nose of Ben's X-wing with Kora and Baz in tow. "It should be just under a mile from here, and mostly downhill. Don't forget your blasters."
Ben quickly checked the hip opposite his saber to ensure that his secondary weapon was present. Although Skywalker's apprentices had been primarily trained in the use of sabers, they were also proficient in the handling of other arms. On Csilla, where the Force was looked upon with great suspicion, those skills could very well be drawn upon.
"I don't understand," Serai had asked Skywalker during their meeting. "I thought the Chiss hated Force-sensitives. Why would they ask for our help?"
Skywalker had smiled wryly at this. "Hate is a strong word, Serai," he had admonished gently. "The Chiss fear Force users. In recent years, however, they have developed methods of protecting themselves from what they consider to be our unnatural powers. When you enter the grand palace of the Chiss Ascendency, you will understand why they no longer fear you as they once did."
Ben shouldered his travel pack and fell in step behind the other three apprentices.
It was going to be a long mission.
With a name like "the grand palace," Ben had expected the capital of the Chiss Ascendency to be a bit more ostentatious. The architecture surrounding them—after a mile of downhill walking and several missed turns in the snowy silence—was highly militant in style. Thick metal blast doors barred entry to a city that was located primarily beneath the bluff upon which they had landed.
After gaining access using the credentials Skywalker had provided them, the quartet of Jedi were guided through a maze of perfectly intersecting, grid-like streets that led them deeper into the earth. Through his connection with the Force, Ben could feel the millions of tons of rock pressing down above them. The biting temperatures on the planet's surface lent practicality to the subterranean civilization surrounding him, but he couldn't escape the prickling sense of unease that dogged his footsteps.
I see you have arrived, Snoke's voice whispered in his ear. Progress?
Nothing yet, Ben thought silently, his eyes scanning the blue-lit corridor before him and his ears taking in the click of boots as he tucked way the last vestiges of his memories of Rey. We're meeting with Skywalker's contact.
As always, the thought of Skywalker was met with a lurching sense of darkness that sent tendrils through Ben's mind. Blinking back spots he shook his head sharply and focused on the task at hand. The two guards that had been their escorts stopped in front of a narrow door. One raised a fist to rap at its surface, his blue skin stretched tight over his knuckles.
"Enter," a cool voice requested, and the door slid back. Serai nodded her thanks to their escort and lead the way into a small conference room where two Chiss officers were seated at a durasteel table.
"Jedi, welcome," the first—a man—said, rising and extending an arm courteously. "Please, sit. Refreshments? No? Very well." He resumed his seat, leaning back and gesturing to a figure in the door. "Yes, Colonel, please bring the ysalimiri. You do not mind, yes?" This last question was directed at Serai, who met his gaze with a blank stare.
"Ysalimiri?"
The man stared back at her, a cold smile beginning to curl at the edge of his lips. "Oh? You are not aware of the customs of my people?"
"Lizards that negate the Force," Ben said lazily, letting a hint of arrogance seep into his voice. He already disliked this man and his cold, manipulative stare. "Bring them in, if you must."
Excellent, Snoke purred. Your knowledge is a sign of your power—never let another hold the advantage of greater knowledge over you. That Serai girl thinks herself a leader, but she has walked into a nest of gundarks without the faintest inkling of their mode of attack.
Ben twitched slightly, trying to focus on the present, and felt Serai's shocked gaze on the side of his face. He refused to look in her direction. She wasn't in his mind like Snoke was, but he could practically hear her panicked question drilling into him: you knew about this, and you didn't think to warn the rest of us?
The truth was, Ben had heard of the ysalimiri only once before, and the name had jogged an old memory from an era in his life that he had done his best to forget.
"Why can't I come to Csilla with you?" he had begged his mother, his small voice almost a whine as he tugged at the edge of her billowing skirt.
"Hush, Ben," she had admonished. "This is a diplomatic visit, not a vacation."
"But you usually take me!"
"This time is different," Leia said, voice softening as she crouched to meet his gaze. "The Chiss are afraid of people like us—people who can use the Force."
"So is daddy," Ben had pouted.
"Your father isn't afraid of you, Ben," his mother had responded in an exasperated tone that spoke of arguments long-repeated. "He just doesn't always understand you. This is different—your power will scare them. There are rumors that they've even begun to import ysalamiri to hinder the abilities of Force-sensitives. You wouldn't like it there, I promise you."
"What are salamerry?" Ben had asked, wide-eyed.
"Great lizards from the planet of Myrkr," Leia had told him, holding her hands a foot and a half apart to denote size. "Their natural predators hunt with the Force, so they've developed the ability to cast a Force-neutral space in which they're safe."
"But what about you?" Ben had asked, suddenly concerned for his mother, who he knew was a strong Force-sensitive. "Won't they dislike you? Won't they use the salamerry on you?"
"It's not the same," Leia had answered. Her next words still drifted in the back of Ben's mind. She hadn't spoken them, but he had heard them clear as day in the way he often could sense thoughts as a child: Unlike you, I can control it.
She didn't trust you even then, Snoke's voice whispered. It is as I have told you. You were right to forget her.
Ben swallowed once, hard, and shifted his gaze back to the Chiss man sitting across from him. "The rumors are true then—Master Skywalker suggested that you no longer had reason to fear Force-users." He let his lip twitch upwards slightly in the beginnings of a sneer.
Good, Snoke praised. Make him fear you. Let him know that you are not powerless.
The man smiled back coldly. "Indeed. We here on Csilla like to be on even footing with friend and foe alike." He trailed off, as if considering which category Ben and his cohort fell into.
"As it should be," Serai cut in quickly, apparently having regained her ability to act like a complete suck up, no matter the situation. "We come here with the intention of providing aid, and we are happy to conform to the customs of your planet."
The man smirked slightly and inclined his head, accepting the implicit apology. "Colonel, bring them in."
The door slid open again, and Ben felt an immediate silence fall over the room. No—not silence. His ears still functioned properly—he could hear the click of boots on tile and the swish of fabric. It was his connection to the Force that was muffled, muted. He could still sense it flowing around him, but it felt lethargic and unwilling to respond as he attempted to pull it to him. He noticed with some surprise that Snoke was absent.
"Incredible," he said. "Truly a marvel of modern technology, captain."
Serai's head snapped to Ben. Captain? she mouthed.
Ben brushed his thumb over his lapel, in the same location that the Chiss captain's stars resided.
"I am glad that you appreciate our advancements," the other man responded. "A smaller and more discrete nutrient frame was recently developed by one of our scientists that allows the ysalamiri to be transported more easily." He gestured to the utilitarian silver-grated box that the colonel placed in the center of the table. "They cannot survive outside their native habitat without very specific care. Fascinating creatures, they are."
"I can't feel anything," Kora breathed, looked slightly shell-shocked. "It's all gone. There's…nothing."
Ben furrowed his brow. His fellow-apprentice clearly needed a lesson in keeping her cards closer to her chest. Furthermore, he didn't appreciate the melodrama, unless she was attempting to mislead the captain. The Force wasn't gone—it was just quiet.
"I apologize for the necessity," the captain said smugly, not sounding the least bit sorry. "It is protocol here for all interactions with Force-sensitives like yourselves."
"Shall we begin?" the second Chiss—a woman with long, curling dark hair—cut in. "My name is Vrirmi'osulo'lisku, but you may call me Osulo. I met your master many years ago during one of his early journeys to recover some of the artifacts of the Jedi. It was I that requested your presence here. We are deeply appreciative of your assistance."
She paused to send her compatriot an irritated glance. Her scarlet eyes flickered, though Ben found it difficult to judge her mood without the assistance of the Force.
"It was our honor to be invited here," Serai said, inclining her head slightly. "Please, tell us whatever you can about the situation at hand. We are eager to help."
"The disturbance began some moons ago," Osulo said. "An attack was reported on one of our southernmost mines. Unrest is not uncommon in those provinces—"
"Although quickly dealt with," her companion cut in, directing a glare at her. "However, we were not initially alarmed. These things happen."
"But the attacks quickly spread, moving north," Osulo continued, as if uninterrupted. "They seemed to be targeting old kyber mines. We no longer mine kyber on Csilla—we haven't for decades—but it was an interesting connection."
"The attacks always occur in the dead of night," the captain elaborated. "Detonators are placed in the mine shafts and triggered as the attackers escape. Our people are trapped inside if they're not killed in the initial blasts."
"It's as if they're covering their tracks, these people," Osulo explained. "Whoever they are, they don't want us to know what they're doing in the mines. The reason we called upon Master Skywalker had to do with another disturbing pattern that came to light recently. The mines, like many of our more central city locales, are outfitted with ysalamiri for protection. After every attack, the creatures have been found slaughtered."
She paused, letting the words sink into the room like stones sinking in water.
Then, "You suspect that Force-users are responsible," Serai said cautiously.
"Obviously," the captain snapped. "Who else would have reason to destroy the ysalamiri? You tell me."
"Well it wasn't us!" Kora snapped.
"No one is accusing you or your master of anything," Osulo said, raising a placating hand. "We simply believe that—"
"Who better to catch a Force-user than another Force-user?" Ben drawled softly. "Clever. I imagine these terrorists—whoever they are—are excellent at covering their tracks? No one has seen them, or at least, no one remembers seeing them? They spread fear everywhere they go? Your men aren't keen to go looking for them in whatever hiding place they've chosen—it would be like reaching one's arm into a pit of vipers."
The captain's glare told Ben he was correct.
"How many?" Serai asked
"We estimate no fewer than three and no more than ten," Osulo said quickly. "We can give you access to our classified intel on their most recent attacks and patterns of movement—"
Ben let her voice trail away as he felt the light brush of a familiar presence. Impossible, he thought. Across planet systems, and in the vicinity of the ysalamiri? Will I never be rid of this girl? He batted her away gently, not pausing to linger over her emotions—concern, warmth, curiosity. He rolled his head to relieve the crick in his neck and felt a strange prickling rush. The Force. It was back.
Struggling to hide a frown of surprise as Osulo continued to drone on, he focused on drawing on the energy around him. It felt slightly strange, disjointed—taking on unexpected patterns as it swirled over his senses. Ordinarily the Force was strongest in living things. They were like bright hubs in the vast web of existence. Here, nothing quite aligned. Powerful light blossomed around the empty chair to Ben's left and a blank space occupied the region of Baz's broad shoulders.
Fascinating, Ben thought, racking his mind for answers. It is almost as if the Force has been superimposed over my surroundings. As if what I'm seeing has…originated elsewhere. Perhaps it's one of the effects of the ysalamiri.
Surely it wouldn't hurt to test out his ability to access this unusual Force. For knowledge's sake only, he thought. A grin begged to take shape on Ben's lips but he held it back as he twitched two fingers slightly under the table.
With the grating shriek of metal on metal, the ysalamiri nutrient frame slid two inches towards him.
Osulo and the captain froze mid-sentence as all eyes focused on the cage. Ben barely subdued the laugh that threatened to bubble up at the sight of the captain's terrified face.
The silence stretched out.
"They sound rambunctious," Ben deadpanned.
"Honestly, Ben," Serai snapped as they strode down the corridor. "It's like you were intentionally trying to provoke them. Do you have any diplomatic skills whatsoever?"
Ben fixed her with a sneering glare. "At least I can count stars," he said sniped, causing her to flush red.
"That's beside the point. From now on, let me do the talking."
"As if you wouldn't anyways."
"Was anyone else terrified by those creepy lizards?" Kora cut in, flicking one of her lekku over her shoulder. "It felt like I was sitting in a sensory-deprivation chamber."
Ben snorted.
Serai shot him another glare. "It was unsettling," she agreed. "We'll be more prepared for it next time. Maybe Ben would care to share why he didn't think to warn the rest of us?"
"I don't need to explain myself to you," he responded coolly, withholding his simple explanation out of sheer bitterness at her accusatory tone of voice. "Besides, I think their lizards were a bit dysfunctional. Couldn't you tell?"
"What? No," Kora said, her brown eyes widening.
"Did you even bother reaching out?" Ben asked.
"Of course, I did!" Kora responded, sounding hurt. "There was nothing."
He raised a single eyebrow.
"She's right, Ben," Serai said. "Cut the shit and tell us what you mean."
Ben's jaw clenched and he looked away. "Forget it," he said.
"Ass," he heard Kora whisper, almost under her breath. "What now, Serai?"
"I was thinking we head back to the quarters they're providing us with and try to run through some of this intel—there's a lot here and it could take us a few hours to sort out what our next steps should be."
"Isn't it obvious?" Ben asked, this time unable to keep the snarky edge out of his voice. "Our next step is to find a Force-sensitive."
The scrappy village on the outskirts of the main mining province could not have been further from the austere militarism of the Chiss capital. Clinging to the icy hills like moss on inhospitable rocks, it was little more than a shanty town. Twisting streets framed low-set houses built with whatever wood, durasteel, or stone could be found by the people that inhabited them. Insulation poked through cracks in walls and adults and children alike seemed to move with a sort of reluctant hesitance, conserving energy as they traversed the windswept terrain.
"What a cheerful place," was Kora's first comment as they entered the village common after a two-mile trek from their latest landing site. "Good luck finding any Force-sensitives in a place like this."
In fact, the only remarkable characteristic of the silent community was the tall, chain link fence surrounding the entrance to the mines. These particular mines provided the income for the majority of the town's inhabitants, and were one of many government installments scattered across the planet's surface. Crenelated with barbed-wire, the boundary was an imposing warning against all those seeking to enter without clearance.
Ben wasn't interested in the fence, however. This far from the mine itself, he could barely sense the presence of a host of caged ysalamiri, likely guarding over the miners and their haul. Instead, he cast outwards in the Force, looking for anything—any slight whorl or displacement of power that could signify a disturbance. He was glad to find that the odd superposition of the Force that he had recognized earlier had faded—unfortunately, neither could he find any signs of other Force-sensitives.
"Let's split into pairs," Serai said. "We can cover more ground that way. This town was hit just last week—surely someone here has seen something."
"I'll go with Baz," Kora offered quickly, shooting Ben a glance that didn't require explanation. "We'll hit the markets and sweep over towards the mines."
"Then Ben and I will take the residential area—meet back here in two hours," Serai supplied. "We want to get back to the ships by nightfall."
Ben grunted in agreement and tugged his cloak more tightly around his shoulders as they pressed deeper into the city. Further from the central square, the insufficiency of the housing became even more apparent. Ben grimaced in sympathy as he watched a child with numb fingers struggling to carry a bucket of water—bearing a sheen of fresh ice across its surface—away from a dispensary hub.
"Let me help you with that," Serai immediately offered, stepping forwards.
The child sent her a suspicious glare and scurried away.
Serai huffed in irritation and the two moved on, scanning the area for signs of life and reaching out tentatively with the Force.
"You know," Serai said, after several minute of walking, "you don't need to antagonize Kora, so. I know she has a flare for the dramatic at times, but she has a good heart."
Ben raised both eyebrows but otherwise didn't respond.
"Look, I know we don't always get along," Serai tried again. "You've always been so hard to read. It's not a bad thing—it just is. But lately it feels like you're trying to push the rest of us away. If you could just—"
Ben froze, turning slightly aside.
"Will you listen to me?" Serai demanded. "Can't you—"
Ben held up a single gloved hand, silencing her. "I think we should go this way," he said, after a short pause, turning on his heel and striking off downhill towards the market.
"This isn't our area," Serai protested. "Baz and Kora will have already looked—"
Ben ignored her and continued to walk, his feet crunching on the thick snow that covered the streets. He could hear something, faint, like a whisper. It was odd, and he wasn't sure if he was headed straight towards a clue or straight into a trap. He only had a strange feeling, and he had learned long ago to listen to his strange feelings.
Serai jogged to catch up and fell in step beside him, finally silent as they cut across a road and entered the sluggishly moving square, where merchants had assembled their meager wares for sale.
Ben slowed, suddenly uncertain of his course, and began to amble amongst the stalls, eyes skimming over bales of fresh spun wool, crates of root vegetables, and stacked tins of rations that looked like they had been in cans since the time of the Empire. Serai continued to hold her silence, clearly aware that Ben was deep in thought.
A glint of burnished bronze caught his eye and he came to an abrupt stop in front of a stall selling dream-catchers and jewelry set with opalescent gemstones.
A voice caught him of guard.
"Here to buy yourself a necklace, Solo?" Kora appeared in the street behind him, with Baz standing silently by her shoulder. "I thought this was our area."
"Shush, Kora, I think he's—"
"Ahh, at last you've arrived." The new voice caused Ben to spin back around, only to find that a young girl—no older than twelve—had appeared behind the booth he had previously been surveying. "Grandmother told me you would be coming. She has the sight too, you know, just like us."
The child had pale blue skin stretched over thin limbs, a dark shock of hair, and eyes the color of bloody agate. "Well are you coming, or not?"
"What—" Kora began, but Ben cut her off with a sweep of his arm.
"Lead the way," he said, gesturing to the girl.
She smiled brilliantly and turned on her heel, scurrying down a side alley with such speed that Ben had to hurry to avoid losing her. They came to a stop outside a small tenement building, where the girl punched in a key-code before stamping the snow off of her boots and leading them into a hallway sporting chipped paint and mildew. The hairs on the back of Ben's neck rose, but he followed the girl deeper into the hovel, the tread of three pairs of footsteps close on his heels.
They entered a squat apartment finally, where a ragged figure was crouched before a fireplace. It was dark, and Ben could barely make out the curl of a back and a downturned face, cast in shadow. The room smelled of old people and despair.
"I've brought him, grandmother," the girl said. "He is tall, like you told me he would be, and he has fierce eyes."
"Good, child, good. Bring him closer, my sight is not what it once was." The figure spoke in a voice cracked with age and gestured with one thin wrist towards a low table to her right.
Ben sank to the floor on one of the threadbare mats located there, crossing his legs and doing his best to squeeze his large frame into the space provided.
"There are others here," the girl said. "Others with the sight."
"Very well," the old woman said. "They may stay, if they are silent."
"How did you know we were coming?" Ben asked calmly, trying to hide the creeping sense of unease that was beginning to overtake him.
"We?" the woman asked, lifting her head so that he could make out her cataract-fogged eyes through a tangle of snow-white hair. "I saw only one—the one who is two. He who has the power to shape what will be. I know why you are here, Ben Solo, but it is not why I called to you. No, I wanted to lay my own eyes upon you, to see that it was true."
"See that what was true?" Ben demanded.
"To see that you are what I dreamed of, in my youth. In the days of the Empire, when all was darkness. I had a vision—I had many visions then, when I was young. Before the sight faded into these weak premonitions." She waved a bony hand dismissively. "I saw that you would come, and that your birth would shake the foundations of the Force. She is not here, you know—the woman you seek."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Ben said tightly. "I'm not seeking a woman—I'm looking for a group of terrorists who—"
"Yes, yes," the crone said, "we will speak of them soon. You know not what you seek, and until you do, you are in grave danger."
"Danger from what?"
"From yourself, among other things," the woman said softly, her blind eyes sliding over Ben's face as if she really could see him. "From the one who shares your mind."
Ben jolted in surprise, almost scrambling to his feet but managing to suppress the action at the last moment.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he said bitterly. "It's just me, here."
"For now, perhaps," the woman said sadly. "But there always was a void in you, before her coming. A place for the darkness to slip in. Perhaps it was inevitable that you should end up this way. But no matter—the sands of time have shifted, as they say. Perhaps now, the worst will be avoided."
Ben simply stared at her, lost for words. He could feel the Force in her, feel it strongly, and he was unsure how he had missed it before.
"Please, ma'am," Serai said, finally stepping forward out of the shadows. "We're here in search of—"
"You tell me what I already know," the woman said, drawing her hunched form up imperiously. "Silence, child."
Serai stepped back, cowed.
"Son of darkness, son of light," the woman said, resuming her relaxed posture as she turned back to Ben. "I am glad that we have met. The ones you seek arrived here a fortnight ago and burned our mines on the eighth night of their stay. For six nights they have been in Abdurek, to the east. You will know them by their masks. But be warned—they are strong, and cunning, and they serve a master far more powerful than any you have yet faced. You would do well to proceed with caution."
"Thank you," Ben said, beginning to rise from his crouch. "We are in your debt."
"There is no debt," the woman said, reaching into the folds of her robe. "Though I have something you may need. Guard its wearer well, lest you fall into the darkness."
She held something out, and Ben accepted it, feeling the brush of her papery skin against his palm as he did so.
"Good luck, young Skywalker," she told him softly. "He of many names. May your future bring you the balance you so desire."
Unable to respond, Ben merely nodded and followed his companions into the hall.
It wasn't until they had exited the dimly lit building that he was able to make out the identity of the object the woman had given him.
It was a long strand of soft, thin leather, in exactly the same shade as the bracelet tucked in his breast pocket.
The mine would have been as black as night had it not been for the thin strips of blue lights tracing either side of the walkway. Still, Ben's eyes had struggled to adjust when they had first entered from the blinding white of the snowfield above. Here, perhaps a dozen meters below the topsoil, he could barely make out the whistle of the wind slicing past the main entrance.
"Remember," Serai was saying. "We're here to gather intelligence, not to start a fight. We want to figure out what these terrorists are doing and get back to the capital without tipping them off to our arrival—otherwise they might blow the mines ahead of schedule. So, stick to your cover and don't draw weapons unless there's no other choice."
It seemed like an excellent plan, but Ben could think of a thousand different ways in which it could go wrong. He tugged at the loose-fitting miner's top he had donned for his excursion into the depths of the earth. Absently, he pushed away the feeling of Rey's presence in the back of his mind. He wasn't sure if she knew what she was doing, but she had become increasingly persistent over the past twenty-four hours. He was lucky that Snoke had been largely absent, although it did little to snuff out his fears that the two would—inevitably—come into contact with one another eventually. He would need to talk to her when he returned to Yavin 4—explain why it was important that she stay away.
The four apprentices moved deeper into the mine, tailing a ragged crew that had agreed to show them the main sights of operation. Ben let his senses unfurl, questing deep into the stone for the touch of unidentified lifeforms. The job was made exponentially more difficult by the profusion of caged ysalamiri housed at every intersection of corridors.
"Here we mine thorilide, for starship turbolaser canons," the crew leader was explaining to Serai in an undertone. "The detonations in nearby mines have been especially harmful because they set off our supplies of baradium bisulfate—an explosive compound that is used to extract the thorilide." The man's brow furrowed in a look of intense worry. "You do not think the raiders will come here, do you?"
Serai hesitated before answering. "We're not sure yet," she hedged. "Anything is a possibility, but we want to make sure everyone is safe." Ben could sense how she hated the lie, but their instructions from the government officials had been quite clear—do not incite panic in any of the mining outlets.
"If you hear anything unusual—anything whatsoever—you should evacuate your people immediately," Ben added. Serai shot him a grateful look over her shoulder.
"As you command, Master Jedi," the crew leader responded with a short bow.
"Oh, he's not a master," Kora said, laughing. "None of us are."
"Even so," the Chiss man said. "You have come here to aid us, and for this we are grateful." He executed another bow. "You will alert me if anything is needed?"
Serai assured him that she would, and the man moved away to supervise several of his other crew-members.
"I can't decide whether these people are terrified of us, or grateful to us," Kora whispered out of the corner of her mouth. "Or both."
"Both, I think," Serai responded lightly. "Although less so, here, in the presence of the ysalamiri. At least their presence tells us that the raiders are not likely to strike soon."
Ben grunted in agreement and the four apprentices continued onwards. Ben had a sneaking suspicion that he was the only one who could feel the Force, despite the caged reptiles around them, and so he did his best to make use of the boon. Unfortunately, the strange sense of superposition had returned—he felt as if he were standing in the middle of a forest, with vast trees towering around him. For a moment, Master Skywalker—
He pushed the thoughts away. The Force clearly wasn't helping.
"They won't be set up in the main regions of the mine," he said. "It would be far too conspicuous and someone would have called the alarm by now. Osulo mentioned something about old kyber deposits. If those existed, they would be in the deepest regions of the mines—the ones that had been totally stripped and abandoned as the operations shifted towards extracting thorilide. We need to find those old deposits."
Serai called one of the crew members over to ask, and several minutes later they were descending an old mine shaft in a creaking elevator that smelled of gasoline and dust.
"What do you think we'll find?" Kora asked quietly, her voice echoing in the cramped space. "Do you think they're mining kyber?"
"The kyber is gone," Serai said. "At least in quantities large enough to be useful for anything but—"
"Building lightsabers," Ben finished. "There could still be a few odd crystals left—something worth scavenging."
The elevator jolted to a stop and the ysalamiri caged in its upper corner let out a sharp hiss of surprise. Ben had yet to see one of the creatures directly, as they were always hidden in their shadowy nutrient frames, but he imagined that they were fearsome animals, the size of his forearm or larger, with a wicked bite.
The four apprentices slid back the grate and stepped out into a dark corridor. The lights here were nonexistent, and their bodies cast long shadows in the glow emanating from the elevator lights behind them.
"High beams on," Serai said, reaching up to flick on the light attached to her miner's helmet. "Everyone good?"
The other three nodded assent and they stepped forward as one. Ben could feel the blood pulsing in his fingertips. Something was wrong.
It took him another twenty meters before he realized what was different. The Force had returned, and it was swirling around him in a chaotic frenzy. The beam of his headlamp fell on a dark pool on the floor.
"Stop," he barked, stepping forward and leaning closer. It was blood. He extended a hand. Drip, drip. Two drops adorned his outstretched palm. Standing, he tipped his head back.
Above him, tilted slightly askew, was a silvery nutrient frame. It was mangled, crushed as if by a huge force. Half of a reptilian body hung out—blood dripped over one of its clawed feet and pattered on the ground.
"Get back!" he roared. "Back to the elevator—it's a trap!"
Spinning around, the four apprentices froze. Framed in the light of the elevator door was a masked figure. In one hand it held the writhing, scratching form of a ysalamir.
With a swift motion, it slammed the creature brutally into one of the stone walls.
And then the lights went out.
Ben had never physically fought for his life before, but he had fought for his sanity, and he found that the two really weren't all that different.
Something about this was easier—the rush of adrenaline through his veins, the heightening of his senses, and the pulse of anger that drove clarity through his mind like a durasteel-tipped pike. An enemy before him was a thousand times easier to face than the demons constantly howling within his own skull.
"There are two more behind us," Serai hissed, igniting her lightsaber and scanning the dark tunnel with her helmet light.
The beam didn't reach far, only a few meters ahead, and suddenly a body came crashing towards them. Serai shouted and parried, her saber locking with the blade of a vibro-axe directed at her head. There was a hiss of melting durasteel, but the axe held under the fiery green heat of her weapon.
Ben ignited his own saber, turning just in time to confront another masked figure, this one bearing an oddly modified scythe that hummed with untapped power. He felt a wave of cold Force punch into his chest, and barely recovered in time to exchange a volley of blows with his attacker. Sparks flew each time the two blades met, but he was unable to cut through his opponent's defenses. He heard Kora cry out to his right, but didn't shift his position; he needed all of his strength to hold off the warrior pressing down on him. His foot slipped and he skittered back, nearly colliding with Baz's broad shoulders as the powerful apprentice dueled a fourth assailant.
The light was strange and flickering—aside from their headlamps and the glow of their sabers, the corridor was completely dark. Ben suspected that the masks of their attackers contained some sort of night-vision technology that provided them a better view of their surroundings.
He tipped his head back slightly so that the beam of his helmet shone directly through the eye slits of his opponent's mask. The figure stumbled back abruptly, and Ben landed a glancing blow on its shoulder. A surge of dark satisfaction welled up in him.
"Shine your lights in their eyes," he shouted. "Their night-vision sensors can't damp the change in brightness quickly enough!"
His attacker was back on him in an instant, a swirling, slicing frenzy of motion. Ben hissed as he felt his opponent's blade tug through the flesh of his right thigh. It hurt. The buzz of the weapon took on a whole new meaning as Ben felt blood beginning to trickle down his leg from what he had thought was a relatively shallow wound.
The four apprentices were being slowly herded away from the elevator—their only route of escape. Ben had a sudden thought, and switched his saber to his left hand so he could continue fighting as he reached for the commlink on his right hip with the other. His fingers were slippery with sweat, but he managed to press down the button and shout into the receiver. "Get out of here! Get yourselves out! Call in the militar—"
Lights flashed before his eyes as he took a blow to head and fell, lightsaber soaring out of his grip as his shoulder crashed into the ground. Blinking away spots, Ben tried to scramble upwards, wincing as he felt the deadweight that his left arm had become. Dislocated.
He sensed the blade sweeping down towards the back of his neck a moment too late.
Knowing it would be futile, he nonetheless attempted to drop back to the floor, twisting slightly as he felt its smooth glide towards his exposed throat—
—and Kora's aquamarine saber skimmed out just in time, catching the scythe and deflecting it away.
Ben blinked in shock, feeling his pulse hammering in the aftermath of his near-death experience. Scrambling to his feet and giving her a jerky nod, he called his lightsaber to his hand. The blade ignited and he plunged back into the fight.
The battle waged on down the narrow hall, sparks flying and melted rock hissing any time one of the Jedi misjudged a blow or swung wide into the walls. Ben could feel his strength flagging as the searing pain in his quad grew, flaring up into his hip and down into his knee. He hit a crack in the floor and staggered, grunting in pain.
Quickly he regained his balance and lifted his saber, anticipating the next blow. None came.
The four apprentices stood in the center of a great cavern, the hum of their weapons the only disturbance amidst the silence. Dim light emanated from the walls, casting the room in a shadowy twilight, and as Ben peered closer, he could make out the fragmented shapes of kyber crystals poking up amidst the deposits of granite surrounding them. The crystals were the source of light, which flickered and undulated like a living thing.
"Look," Kora gasped, sucking in breath like she had just run a marathon. "There!"
The four swiveled as one, taking in the chilling sight before them.
Across the cavern stood a fifth masked figure, flanked by the other four. Gripped in its hand was a vibrant red lightsaber, humming with power and casting a bloody glow over its companions.
"You have fought well," the figure said, in a distorted but clearly masculine tone. "For younglings. But your master was a fool to send you here."
"Who are you?" Baz shouted back, his deep tones ringing through the cavern. "Name yourselves."
"I am Ren, of the Knights of Ren," the figure returned. "These are my brothers and sisters in arms. Prepare yourselves, Jedi scum, to experience the full power of the dark side."
Baz lifted his blue saber threateningly and took a ready stance.
"There are two more," Serai whispered, too quietly for Ren to overhear. "On the cliffs. Long range snipers, if I had to guess."
Ben nodded in approval, impressed by her ability to keep a level head under the circumstances.
Without warning, Ren snarled, lunging forward with blade outstretched.
The Jedi circled up, putting their backs together in a tight formation that would give them the best chance of withstanding the coming onslaught. Ben felt a deep well of rage rising up in his gut.
Good, Snoke's voice whispered. Excellent. They are filth, that dare walk upon the earth. Strike them down and let their power become your own. Embrace your destiny, my son!
Ben snarled and let the strength of Snoke's vitriol rush into him. He channeled it, honed it like a blade. The Force swirled around him in vortices of light and dark, the dark rushing upwards from within and overpowering the light. His blade flashed out once, twice, deflecting blow in an elegant dance of grace and danger. His free hand whipped out, sending one of his stunned combatants flying backwards with a push of the Force.
Yes! Snoke crowed, his glee taking on a nearly hysterical edge. Crush them! Let your hate flow through you—it is a river far wider than you can possibly imagine; an ocean with no end. Take what is rightfully yours!
Ben inched forward, on the offensive. He could see Ren to his right, his blade painting fiery arcs of crimson as Serai struggled to hold him off. Ben used the Force to rip the vibro-axe from the hands of his own assailant and spun, slicing his blade underhanded towards Ren's ribs.
The dark warrior responded instantly, his saber coming down to deflect as his other hand stretched out to freeze Serai's blow mid-swing. Her face transformed into a mask of panic as she struggled to free herself from the ensnaring web of his power.
He will kill her, and then he will kill you, Snoke whispered. You must destroy him first. Do it!
Ben roared, feeling the Force surge through him, so dark and never-ending that it was as if he rode a black wave of power. An ocean, as Snoke had told him.
The resulting blow hit Ren with such staggering intensity that he was flipped backwards, head over heels, landing catlike several meters away. Ben charged, abandoning his place in the circle.
"Ben, come back!" Kora cried, but her plea fell upon deaf ears.
All Ben could hear was the thrum of his blood, the rush of power as he battered down on the defenses of his enemy. Each blow was heavier than the last. He let the burning pain of his injury swell outwards until it nearly consumed him, lending him strength when he needed it most. The two moved in a flickering circle of blue and red, blades clashing in a dance as old as time itself. Neither was cold or calculating—both fought with a savagery unlike any Ben had felt before. It was good—it was right. To finally be unleashed in this way, to cast aside Skywalker's mumblings about emotion and fear and anger, and simply be.
When Ben saw the opening, he didn't hesitate. He twisted his blade in a deft stroke, sliding forward into Ren's space and slicing neatly through his right wrist.
The man let out a cry of pain, dropping to his knees as his saber skittered away.
Ben's blade was at his throat in an instant.
Good, my boy, good, Snoke praised, his oily voice creeping into Ben's mind. Now do it. Kill him.
I shouldn't, Ben thought, chest heaving with exertion. He could hear the fight still raging on behind him, but he could only stare down into the blank mask of his defeated enemy. He tried to imagine what the other man was thinking. Did he fear death?
He would have done the same to you, Snoke reminded. Kill him now! Claim his power as your own! Fulfill your destiny!
Ben couldn't hear over the rushing in his ears. It swelled up, encompassing everything—the roar of battle, the wheezing of his own breaths, the shift of feet on loose stones.
The rushing stopped, replaced by perfect silence, and Ben noted absently that Snoke was gone. The rage that had pulsed through him was gone as well, and he felt only a vague sense of confusion until the awareness of another presence hit him.
He staggered, nearly losing his lightsaber as he spun around.
He had felt her. She was there.
Not in his mind, as an unwelcome guest, but really, truly there. He could sense her as if she were standing a hairsbreadth away.
If he had felt only anger before, now he felt the cold shock of fear. Not fear—terror. Terror unlike any he had experienced before. And the need—the desperate need—to get to her as quickly as possible. To protect. To defend.
His gaze spun left, right, Ren's prostrate form totally forgotten.
There, through the haze of the battle, he glimpsed her.
Her surroundings were indistinct, but she was not. She was a beacon of light, so small, her wide hazel eyes looking up at him in horror—at the ignited blade in his hand and the bloody wound on his leg.
He saw her lips moving, and knew they were forming his name.
She took a step forward, arm outstretched, his own fear reflected in her eyes. She was trying to tell him something, he could sense it, but the words didn't come out, just—
"Ben!"
Her cry cut through the muffled silence surrounding him just as a blaster bolt ripped through his shoulder, spinning him around and dropping him to the ground.
The last thing he saw as he slipped into darkness was the look of utter devastation painted across her young face as she faded from sight. The last thing he heard was the heart-rending song of her wordless scream.
A/N: *ducks to avoid thrown objects*
I'M SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO UPDATE. Here I seek to placate you with an exceedingly long chapter. *aside* Oh, it ends in a cliffhanger? Shoot. *ducks to avoid more thrown objects*
Seriously though, sorry for my absence. I would love to promise that this will never happen again, but in all honesty it's that time of the semester. I'll do my best though!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and my attempts to weave in some of the lore of Star Wars-I am still by no means an expert, so if I've butchered anything, do let me know. The existence of ysalimiri was first brought to my attention by diasterisms' "landscape with a blur of conquerors" on AO3-go check it out if you haven't already!
I mostly think that's it. Do please let me know if you have any thoughts or criticisms-as always, I seek to make my Rey-Ben interactions as non-creepy as possible (since she's like, 8) but if you think I'm doing a poor job of it, definitely call me out! So hard to write intense emotion without it being open to weird interpretation. I swear I don't support pedophilia guys. I SWEAR. HE DOESN'T LIKE HER LIKE THAT.
Okay, that really is everything. Hope you enjoyed, and feel free to send me any thoughts! I love your reviews to death, and you are all such, such kind people! S/O as always to kittystargen3 for the beta! Thanks everyone for reading and supporting!
-Aspen