She was wearing her old scavenger's rags, standing in the main cabin, watching the panel and its list of names of worlds scroll by.
...
Malastare
...
Darkknell
...
She needed to choose one fast, before it appeared. It was coming. The place she had never escaped.
...
Eriadu
...
Triton
...
Choose one. Now. Just say the word.
...
Shumavar
...
Atrivis
...
Now! Say one, any one!
She tried, but no sound came from her lips.
...
Bespin
...
Rutan
...
She was frozen to the spot, unable to speak, unable to run.
The list stopped scrolling. It had reached the end.
Exegol
The word flashed, selected though she had never spoken its name and the walls of the craft displayed the vista. The sight surrounded her, wrapping her in a terror that she had never truly left behind. The Sith Citadel towered into the gloom above, a crushing presence filling the sky with dark, pitted stone abused into shape by unnatural powers, hung in space by forces commanded only by those that had devoted their lives to the blackest parts of the soul. It waited, poised to crush her like an ant if she was foolish enough to continue on the path ahead and venture under its vast black boot.
It had taken all of her courage that day to keep moving, walking forward into that unnatural space. She'd felt so vulnerable, so alone again. Was it easier or harder now, knowing what lay beyond? The halls in their hideous decaying grandeur. Him.
To her right, a cackle. She turned away from the screens to look. The corridor was shrouded in shadows too dark to see into, but she knew what lurked there. She had hoped against reason that he was gone forever after that day, but she was stupid. Death hadn't stopped him before, and it never would. He had never stopped searching for her and now he had found her, the last of his bloodline.
Something awful dragged itself closer and somehow, from somewhere, she found the strength to tear her feet away from the floor, and run.
She ran through the corridors of the shuttle, its panels of luxurious wood rotting, its inlays and decorations of polished precious metal corroded. The lights flickering and broken, abandoning it to half darkness. She could hear the terrible mocking laughter behind her, following, closer now despite her desperate flight. Don't look around.
She ran aimlessly without knowing where or how she could escape, for there could be no safety when evil was allowed by good people to survive, nurse its wounds and grow strong again. The corridors she hurtled through grew darker and dirtier, the floor of polished stone broken and uneven, and though she fled faster and faster, he grew closer, the sound of his rasping breath louder. Don't look back.
And then, barely visible in the pitch darkness at the end of a broken, smashed corridor, an open door and sanctuary. With one final desperate effort, she ran. She sprinted heedless through decorations twisted into slicing, jutting blades, her bare feet flew over tiles turned into shattered shards, her head brushed hanging, sparking wires. His mocking laughter filled the ship, his stinking breath hot on her neck as she reached the doorway and fell through into the void.
She was standing on the main deck of the Falcon, the ship silent around her, and He was gone, far away. Everything was right and safe and good, because it was just the two of them together, her and Finn, and he would never let anyone harm her. She breathed, filled with an impossible, beautiful peace.
But where was he? She turned away from the dejarik table to walk down the port corridor, left at the airlock, right at the refresher to peek into the larger bunk room. More empty silence, but she was sure she wasn't alone and he was on the ship somewhere; she could feel it. She stepped into the quarters and continued to the walk-in wardrobe, her sight filled by capes of various colors and textures.
Rey pushed the capes aside to reveal a full length mirror. The girl in the mirror was a vision. Dressed entirely in white and bright shades of cream and gold, she was a creature of the light. She was powerful, her gaze calm and strong, unafraid of the challenges she knew were ahead, undaunted by the battles with darkness she would win to free the galaxy. She would vanquish evil, destroy it, erase it forever.
An instinct forced her to turn, and there he was, facing away from her. He wore Poe's jacket, because they were leaving Jakku. She loved him in that jacket, though she'd never said, of course. So much left unsaid, words frozen by fear, left stuck in her throat to be chewed over endlessly, fitfully until morning.
She reached out and touched his back, but he shrank away.
Both hands gripped his shoulders to try and turn him, but it was impossible.
Her heart caught in her chest and a choking panic rose in her throat. She needed his approval; without that how could she know it was right? Sometimes things got mixed up and complicated and it was difficult to see what was right, but Finn always knew. She needed him to understand and see what she was and what she would do and say yes. Yes to destroying all of the followers of the Dark, yes to saving the galaxy once again, yes to everything even though she'd hurt him, yes he understood why she had to push him away, yes he forgave her. That most of all.
She beat on his back and screamed in silence, tears wetting her cheeks, but he was unmoved and would not look at her, his head bent, body slumped in disappointment at what he had seen. She roared but no sound passed her lips. She tore at the jacket, only for him to shake his head sadly and speak at last.
"No."
Rey woke, tears cooling on her skin, heart thumping, the feel of the jacket on her fingers and threads of the dream still clinging to her, filling her with sadness. And though the image of Finn turned away and disapproving was freshest and most painful, her mind turned to the girl in the mirror, the girl of light and how she had felt to see herself so. Powerful and full of certainty. Right.
Everything he needed in two kit bags and a small rucksack, Finn observed with some satisfaction as he exited the refresher, walked to the balcony of his hotel room and began the stretching exercises that preceded his standard morning workout. Finding comfort in these routines when life post-Crait had become a series of unpredictable, untidy uprootings, had helped him keep body and mind level when others were becoming bent out of shape. That discipline was one of the very few ways in which he was thankful for his Stormtrooper past, he reflected as he looked out across the dusty, bustling satellite city and the desert expanse beyond.
Things were moving now. Adra would take him as far as Corellia, and from there it wouldn't be hard to get to Iloh. And most importantly, he would still have all his savings; he could thank Lando for that one.
Behind him in the room, his phone rang. Reluctant to interrupt his exercises, Finn broke from them to walk back inside to check it.
INCOMING: BOOTICOLL
Rose again. Great. She'd tried to get through to him two or three, maybe more, times in the past day, and he'd not been in the mood, but ok, let's get this done. He approved the call.
"Hey," he said.
"Finn! You're alive!" Rose gasped, eyes wide. The holo showed her sitting on a large, golden chair, elaborately decorated. Was that a glitch in the video or a column of orange flame flickering behind her?
"Yeah, sure."
"OhmygodsIthoughtyouweredead," the words burst free as she struggled to draw breath.
What had he told her last time? Knights. Casino. "Yeah, those Knights, they weren't so tough. Took 'em out pretty easy. Still time for a game of Tregald."
"Oh Finn, oh thank the Force," she held her hands over her heart, "I've been trying to reach you. I've been going crazy here."
"Rose, I appreciate the concern, but I can handle myself," he assured her.
"I'm so sorry, I never intended this to happen."
Finn's stomach took a familiar lurch.
"I thought I was on mute," she explained urgently, "and these religious types, they take everything so fucking literally."
"Rose, calm down and tell me what's going on."
"Has anyone tried to kill you recently? Since our last call?"
"Uhhh..."
"Nobody shouting 'Death to the deceiver'? Nothing like that?"
Finn dashed to the balcony and scanned the street below, which revealed only the scrabble of city life and nobody shouting or looking especially life-threatening. He stepped back into the room.
"Rose, what have you done?"
"If I was to say that I wanted Finn castrated and fed to Lyran Bloodslugs, you'd know what I meant, right?"
"I'd know it was a cry for more quality time with me, sure."
"Exactly!" she exploded in vindication and relief, "You know me. You get me. But these guys don't."
"Ok, so I'm going to take a wild guess," Finn pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to relieve the pressure building up to a Rose-related headache, "You told your fanatically devoted followers that hang on your every word, that you wanted me castrated and fed to bloodslugs."
"Well," she winced and wriggled, "Yeah, something like that, but it wasn't my fault. These guys treat everything I say as a holy command or something. I'll never get used to it. I'll be sat on the Throne of Fiery Resurrection..."
Ok, so it really was flames, not a video glitch. Classy.
"...and a bunch of disciples roll up an entire roast Fathier because I said something about being hungry enough to eat one."
"But look," she took a second to straighten and compose herself, smoothing her hair, "Probably nothing will come of it," she assured him confidently as she casually waved away the threat of imminent genital removal, "I'm just saying you should keep an eye out."
"Right. Thanks." Finn sighed.
"For the rest of your life."
Finn looked to the heavens and exhaled. "Ok. So that's it? You just called to warn me?"
"Well, there was something else, now we've got the chit-chat out of the way," she looked away and hunched her shoulders in discomfort.
The room started to spin and Finn sat down on the bed, quite hard.
"I really wanted to say I'm sorry I got so riled up last time. It was just the surprise of finding out you were with her. I've got a bit of a thing about Rey."
"I know. Everyone does."
"She's got everything, you know? Looks, talent, this amazing privileged life. Adored and admired by billions."
Her eyes met his, held them and didn't let go. The frantic energy was all gone now, leaving a calm and the Rose he remembered before her life had lurched sideways into sainthood. The Rose that wanted to tear it all down, make something better and made him believe she could. The Rose that had been prepared to die to save what she loved.
"And you. She has you," she said.
Finn frowned, "I don't..."
Rose snorted and held up a hand to silence him, "So I want to hate her. That's shit, I know. I try to convince myself that she's this terrible person, so I can hate away as much as I want. But really she's not, she's just not the perfect hero everyone says she is. And we're supposed to be grateful to her for saving the galaxy as well? No thanks," she continued reluctantly and shrugged, "I actually had a big crush on her, which makes me hate myself a bit and her even more."
"Yeah," Finn said, and looked out at the desert beyond, and remembered lying in the dust, a girl in worn, dirty clothes, sand in her hair and anger in her eyes standing over him. "Yeah, I know what you mean. She can be hard to love."
"Right," Rose smiled sadly, "So anyway, if you're hanging out with her, ok. But come back and see me someday. Don't be a stranger."
"Rose, I will," he said and meant it, "And you take it easy. Particularly on the proclamations of death and destruction and all that."
"I'll try," she laughed, "But the power is kind of intoxicating, you know? Do you think it's possible to turn to the Dark Side even if you're not Force sensitive?"
"Definitely," Finn grinned, "Take care Rose."
"You're still my hero," she said quickly, before he could break the call, "Always will be."
He shook his head, "I'm nobody's hero."
She gave him a pitying, lopsided smile and gentle shake of the head, "All these years, and you still don't get it, do you?"
"See ya Finnster," she said, saluting him.
"Finnster? Have you been talking to..." But the call was closed.
Not a bad call. A pretty good one, in fact. Yes, there had been the revelation that religious fanatics wanted to feed him to parasites that would burrow into his skin and gorge on his blood, suspending him in an unspeakable agony that would render him insane before he died a long drawn-out death from blood loss. But all in all, a good call. Finn released a satisfied sigh before returning to the balcony to resume his stretching routine, the street below full of bustle and life.
The day was looking up.
Trees whipped by, flickers of sunlight dancing through the canopy above. Up a short hill, across a log spanning a canyon so improbably steep and bottomless that it almost spoiled the illusion, zig zagging a rough path through lush foliage.
The forest in this simulation was close enough to Ajan Kloss that her exertions blotted out the present and Rey found herself lost in it, taken back to when everything and everyone she cared for was clinging to existence by its fingernails, fighting an evil that threatened to overwhelm them at any moment. A simpler time.
And Leia, waiting at the end of the training run, a wry smile, endless patience and some well chosen words of wisdom. Anything to see that smile; oh how she'd lived to please back then.
Pain in that image, a punch to the gut that caused her face to contort in a grimace as she flung out a Force push at a (simulated) tree dead ahead, causing the vista to glitch and buckle. It stayed glitched; reckless in her hurt, she'd hit it pretty hard. Whatever, it could be replaced. Using a Force push on the run was training, and that workout was nearing the end anyway.
She eyed the vital signs and workout data in the top left of her sightline. Pretty good, taking into account a hangover and a few days of inactivity in Cantonica.
Rey walked out of the sim room to be met by a small serving droid bearing the glass of chav-spiced rum she'd ordered earlier. Just one to chase away the cobwebs and start the day, and some vine-coffee next to balance it out. She plucked the glass from its flat top, took a sip and eyeblink-fast, whipped out and ignited the saber, stopping the blade fractions from the surface of the droid in a Force-assisted blur of motion. She felt sharp again, a weapon honed and ready to be wielded against the malign forces that threatened them all. The droid stayed where it was, unable to recognise the saber as a danger, and Rey pressed the blade a little further, cutting into the metal. It's just a droid.
"Incoming call: Office of the Defence of the Realm of the New Council," the ship announced.
"Accept the call," Rey replied, extinguishing and sheathing the saber as the droid scuttled back to the serving units. She straightened up, adjusted her hair and hoped she wasn't obviously breathing hard.
"Greetings, Defender Rey Skywalker," boomed the voice of the Office of Defence. The holo before her was always human, male with a kindly expression, nondescript greying hair and a well-spoken Coruscant accent. Lately she'd come to suspect the image and voice were synthesized and there was no telling who or what she was talking to.
"We are most pleased," he continued, "with your progress in retrieving the Tantalus artifact. Did you leave any surviving Knights or their followers on Toola?"
"No. I got them all," Rey replied.
"You did well, Rey," he assured her, "They were too dangerous to be kept alive."
A flash of a girl and a boy lying together in mud and pools of blood.
"Thank you. I'm on-route to Ziost now, as you instructed."
"Excellent. The remainder of Tantalus will be found on Ziost, a planet of significance to the Sith and therefore the Knights."
"Ok, good..." she hesitated, unsure of whether to give voice to this question again.
"You wish to speak, our Defender of the Light?"
"Yes," she probably shouldn't, but they shared so little, and the uncertainty was starting to trouble her, "Once Tantalus is completed and I've brought it to you, what then? Do you have plans for what comes next?"
"Of course," his voice soothed and brow furrowed in concern, "We hope you trust us, Rey. Ever since we've known you, we sense that you search for a life greater than that of an ordinary Jedi. One of significance, of conscience. It is of the utmost importance to us to help you fulfil this promise."
More than a Jedi. They increasingly described her in terms like this, and though she was uncertain of the meaning, it was flattering that they saw such potential. "I hope I can live up to your expectations. For now, I want to see the mission through to the end and do everything I can to eliminate the agents of Darkness."
"Naturally. It is the only mission worthy of your greatness," it said enthusiastically before continuing with a pained, sympathetic tone, "Rey, we understand that what we ask of you is difficult, but know this: if you do as we bid you, it shall bring nearer The New Glory, an era of dominance of the Light that has been prophesied will bring order and peace to the galaxy for millennia. Surely that is worth risk and sacrifice?"
"Yes, of course. I just wonder, sometimes," she looked down and shifted her stance uncomfortably, "Why I have to do this alone, or almost alone?"
"You are uniquely capable of fulfilling the mission. There is nobody else with your abilities, your power and alignment with the Force," the voice reminded her gently.
"I understand, I do. But sometimes, I feel as if it's too much to do alone. I feel like I'm getting unbalanced, in how the Light and Dark sides exist in me. It scares me."
"Fear not, Rey. This is your gift. You alone are capable of embracing a larger view of the Force as you strive to achieve victory," the kindly face explained patiently, "The anger that burns within you gives you focus, makes you stronger, and the galaxy needs that strength."
"Yes, I know. There are still many followers of the Dark at large."
"Indeed. If permitted, they will rebuild and gain strength, as before. Believe that we understand your struggles and your importance to the New Council is second to none. You will be instrumental in bringing about peace and prosperity for our entire civilization."
She remembered the blur that her life became after the fall of the Final Order at Exegol.
The naked, feverish adulation wrapped up in a billion smiles and wide-eyed compliments, adoring interviews, gifts from absurdly grateful strangers, a million breathless, tearful proclamations of love and veneration. She had been worshipped, lifted up on the shoulders of the galaxy, so high, so close to the sun that every hour of every day was spent dazzled, never wanting to touch the ground again. The five year old girl standing on a dune in tears and confusion had never been so quiet and distant. To achieve this a second time, there could be nothing better, nothing more she could ask of life.
"I'm doing my best, I really am," Rey said, "But the Darksiders are strong, and I get tired sometimes," she hugged herself, sweat chilling her skin in the cool, dry air, "I'll defeat them though, I know I can."
"Indeed; they are strong, but you are stronger," he nodded, "Use your strength, your unique abilities and through our guidance you will achieve a power greater than any Jedi. You are a warrior of the Light, and, we believe, the vanguard of a new age of the Force."
They had talked at length about her uniqueness before, about how her Palpatine heritage and training in the Light side presented opportunities that other Force adepts could never attain, "More and more, I believe you're right," she agreed, "It worries me, the Dark Side, but there have been times, when I've been outnumbered, or... my assistant was at risk..."
Her heart lurched at memories of Finn hurt on Qaradoun, and how the intensity of her fear and despair had caused her to lose control, and what she'd done to his attackers. It was for the best that he'd left; her fear of finding him broken or dead had eaten away at her foundations, night and day, leaving her unbalanced, teetering on an edge. It had been a mistake to have him on the mission. The sweetest of mistakes; if only he was here... Push that away, girl, push it down, out of your mind.
"...and I've used it. I can feel its power, but I've used it for good. I've tried, anyway."
"Excellent. The Dark Side of the Force is a pathway to abilities that can be useful to you. Don't be afraid. You simply need to walk it with your eyes open and you will not fall."
"I will. It's just a matter of understanding and controlling it, as you say. I feel like I'm on the verge of something, of moving forward and becoming more than I am now," she'd needed this talk; the way the Dark side was encroaching ever more into her mind and actions weighed heavily, and being so isolated made it difficult to bring herself into balance. Listening to the Council remind her of her abilities and potential was enlightening; it illuminated everything from a new angle, revealing a more positive aspect. She was grateful for the clarity.
"You are fulfilling your destiny, Rey. Have no doubts," he smiled and tilted his head a little, a father heaping praise on a beloved daughter, "The galaxy is waiting for you to lead it into the light."
"I am honored, truly."
"Go to Ziost. Retrieve the remainder of the artifact. As for the followers of the Dark Side: wipe them out, all of them."
"I will," she said, bowing her head. When she raised it, the holo was gone.
"Call ended," announced the ship.
She would crush them on Ziost. Their blind devotion to the Dark Side narrowed their capabilities, just as the Jedi were limited by their refusal to incorporate any element of Darkness. This was what Luke had seen; a hidden truth, the need for Jedi and Sith to end, be burnt to the ground so that a new way might rise from their ashes, one that could span the two sides, gain strength from both and unite them. She would forge this new path, the New Glory, to bring even greater honours to the Skywalker name. She would make him proud and see his sister's smile once more.