Rey told them she still needed to find masters for them but she would do it. Still, the victory rang hollow for Jacen when he went to bed that night.

He closed the door, turned off the light, and didn't even bother to take his clothes off. He didn't care, he wouldn't be getting any sleep anyway. He set the lightsaber on the bedside table.

Maybe I could—

It was a desperate thought, one he kept shielded from his sister in that inner layer where their most private thoughts went. There were levels of opennesss in their bond.

He could sense that Jaina was asleep— the bond often was at its most restricted when either of them were sleeping. But he could always sense her there, feel her general aura. She was his sister, and she would always be there.

He couldn't imagine how she must've felt, feeling their bond gone that morning. When he had awakened, it was still cloudy and restricted, but connected. It wasn't until he lay in the bed, anticipating that horrible ancient voice that he realized a truth.

Someone had interfered with his bond with Jaina.

You have your own path to take, little one. She is too impulsive, too absolute to follow the path you must, my child.

Jacen grimaced as he felt a long spindly finger stroke his spine. He forced himself to reach his hand from under the blanket, and summoned his lightsaber to his hand. He just heard a chilling cold laugh, and he turned around, turning on the saber.

It cut through a ghostly figure of a wrinkled man in a golden robe, cutting him in half.

Jacen let out a little shriek of terror as the wrinkled face grinned as it toppled to the ground. Then the corpse vanished. He forced himself to get out of bed and grope around in the dark to make sure that it was truly gone.

Then he felt something push him to the ground.

He reached for his lightsaber, which clattered as it rolled off, but before he could, he felt an enormous bony foot push him flat into the ground, digging into his spine.

"I cannot be defeated by a mere glorified flashlight," the wrinkled man said. "Your father made that mistake."

Jacen said nothing, struggling under the man's foot to try and get free.

A long mangled finger reached down to stroke Jacen's hair. The action made him involuntarily shiver. He squeezed his eyes tight, wishing it could be a dream. But the wrinkled man that had haunted his sister's dreams were now more real than they had ever been.

"I know you're curious about your father, young Skywalker," the wrinkled man said. "She lied to you your entire life about your father's identity."

"She didn't tell enough to lie!" Jacen protested.

"She told lies of omission," the wrinkled man. "But you shouldn't be too angry about your mother. She had to be creative and bold, creating those bits about a fictional father you never had. She had to, to hide what her children really were."

"She will tell us," Jacen said. "And you're wrong."

"Oh, child," the wrinkled man laughed. "You are just as naïve as your father once was."

Jacen gritted his teeth as the wrinkled man dug his bony foot deeper into his spine. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out. A tear went down his cheek, involuntarily.

The wrinkled man reached out and scraped the tear off of Jacen's cheek with his long fingernail.

"But you are weaker than even your father was, and his father before him," the wrinkled man said. "You'll never do. I'll have to teach you a few lessons."

"I'm not learning from you," Jacen protested, trying to get free again.

"I see." The wrinkled man stepped off of Jacen. "In that case, perhaps I should start with a free one."

He extended his clawlike hand, and Jacen went flying into the air as he felt the wrinkled man invade his mind, ripping past every mental shield to keep even the most primal of thoughts shielded. He felt excruciating pain in his veins, like it was in his blood, burning, boiling to get free.

But he couldn't scream.

Then he fell to the ground with a thud. Jacen felt an overwhelming sense of shame as he struggled to breathe. He was weak. He was pathetic.

The wrinkled man leaned down, and lifted Jacen's chin. "Open your eyes, you pathetic child."

Jacen's eyes opened anyway, and he shuddered at seeing the visage of the wrinkled man straight-on.

Then the man dropped him to the floor. Jacen just lay there, frozen in fear by the mere aura of the wrinkled man.

"Ah, child, you already have the clues as to who your father truly was," the wrinkled man. "Would you like to tell your sister the truth?"

Jacen couldn't even make a sound.

Immediately he saw images of the Supreme Leader from the HoloNet in his mind.

No no no no no.

Jacen felt so panicked he thought his heart would beat out of his chest.

"Kylo Ren is your father," he said finally.

"Your lying," Jacen said, despite knowing it was true. The words rang hollow.

The wrinkled man laughed. "Ask your mother. See if she is foolish enough to deny it."

"Don't insult my mother," Jacen snarled.

"Oh, I admire your mother," the wrinkled man said. "She has spunk."

He then reached a single finger to Jacen's forehead. "Now sleep. We have training to do."