Beyond the Event Horizon - thewritersramblings (2024)

Chapter 1: The Return

Chapter Text

She felt every cell in her body come together again, her corporeal body knit from the fabric of the universe. Her body hummed with residual energy as the Force dissipated around her. She groaned as she put a hand beneath herself, the body she had grown into did not respond with the fluidity that came from two decades of muscle memory—her limbs unwieldy and heavy, as though her soul had been carelessly deposited into another vessel.

This one was new, like a child or an ungulate colt learning to walk on wobbly legs.

The stone beneath her was cold—and cracked, she realized, once her fingers caught on jagged fault lines streaking outwards from the center of her body. She shivered as she managed to get two hands under her torso, pushing off the dusty ground with the speed and grace of a bantha. The binary moons shone brightly through the open roof, illuminating the unfamiliar room. It was ancient and overgrown with vines and thick green and purple flora. Columns lay toppled around her, one strewn across the stairs had reduced the stone to rubble. It reminded her of the temples on Yavin.

She coughed, her new lungs aching from the dusty abuse. Her breath was loud and shaky in the silence that pressed against her from the darkened corners of the temple. She couldn’t even hear native fauna prowling the night; it was as though the planet were devoid of life—and yet—she could feel the overwhelming brightness of the Force, coming closer with every beat of her new heart. She wanted to gather that light and bury it in her aching chest.

She shifted to sit back on her feet and center herself. She wasn’t very good at meditation but she couldn’t remember why she would know that. As she settled into position, her knee nudged a cylindrical item that rolled in the dust. Her fingers seemed to tremble when she reached out to grasp the weapon—how did she know that was what it was?

The metal was cold.

Please, he begged, gloved hand outstretched, the heat from the flames warm against her cheeks.

She snatched her hand back as though the weapon had burned her. When she looked closer she could see wires running along the casing. Well, with shoddy workmanship like that of course it would kriffing electrocute anyone.

She pushed herself up off the ground with both hands until she stood on shaky feet. It wouldn’t do for a predator to attack while she was vulnerable. She stood at the top of the temple stairs, bathed in the moons’ light, the ridges of the weapon’s grip leaving grooves in the soft skin of her new body’s palms.

Hurried footsteps outside the temple caused a spike of alarm to shoot through her. She held the weapon aloft instinctively, misgivings towards electric mishaps quickly shoved aside. A humanoid ran into the ruined temple, skidding to a stop as they glanced around. They were cast in shadow and the hackles of her fear intensified. When they spotted her, it was as though the sound had gone out of the world except their ragged breaths.

The humanoid stepped into the circle of light, gazing up at her in confusion. It was a human male. Absurdly, she wondered why he wasn’t wearing shoes as his pants fluttered around bare ankles. Her eyes fell on the bright silver cylinder in his hand—another weapon.

“It is you…” he breathed with wonder. Please… the same voice, beseeching.

“Kylo Ren!” She set her teeth in a snarl as she held her weapon before her chest, igniting it in a screech of red that pierced the night. She felt a rush of satisfaction when he took a startled step back, igniting his own—a familiar, stable blue hum to ward off the darkness.

That lightsaber—it belongs to me.

No, not his. It was hers.

As she stumbled forward, leaping the length of the steps with the help of the Force, her blade crackling and pulling from all directions, she wondered why he stood his ground, his blade poised to block her attack. The noise ripped from her new throat was foreign and familiar at once. You have the spirit of a true Jedi, a creature snarled in her mind, a scar like a trench in his skull.

The man parried her blows, dancing around the circle of light but remaining in shadow to mask his movements, her only indication his blue blade gently humming with every twist and turn of his hands.

“Ben!” Another voice cut through the roaring of her thoughts. Ben! Echoing endlessly in a reactor shaft bathed in red shadows. Before she could turn to face the new threat, she was thrown off her feet by an invisible energy. Her back cracked against the stone steps and she tasted blood in the back of her throat.

Another man joined the first, a green blade of light perfectly parallel to the blue. The other man was older and bearded—but younger than when she had seen him last.

“Master Skywalker?” Her voice was small, the temple amplifying her awe. Skywalker’s eyes never left hers even as she felt him reach out through the Force to assess her. She nearly recoiled with the overwhelming energy of his power, brighter than binary suns.

“How did you find this place? How did you find me?” He demanded, his gravelly voice full of restraint. “Who sent you?”

Your sister…

Your sister Leia…

A thousand voices, including her own, echoed across time and the galaxy, swirling chaotically in her mind. She was back in the cave with her infinite selves, searching desperately for answers—for guidance.

“Your sister Leia sent me…” she spoke in a voice that was and was not her own. She saw Kylo—Ben—straighten at the mention of his mother’s name, looking at his master for answers. “No,” she shook her head, frowning. That wasn’t right. “The Force. The Force sent me here.” She knew in her heart that was the truth. She lowered her lightsaber. “Please, Master Skywalker, listen to me.”

“I don’t make it a habit to chat with Sith lords.” His gloved hand seemed to tighten around his saber.

She almost laughed. Sith? The Sith, the Jedi, the Rebels...let it all die. Her gaze fell back on Ben whose pensive dark eyes never wavered.

Skywalker advanced with sure steps, his murderous intent clear through the Force. She stumbled back over the rubble and the crater she had awoken in. The green blade hummed close to her face as she scrambled to parry the Jedi master. “Wait!” The blade buzzed past her ear and she yelped, leaping over the toppled columns and trusting the Force to buoy her up and over. “I’m a Jedi—Master Skywalker, please.”

He continued to advance, though he quirked an eyebrow, his gaze falling on the crackling saber in her hand, the red reflected in them cast his cerulean eyes in purple. “You’re not very good at this whole Sith thing, are you?”

Her temper flared and the temple walls seemed to shudder in response. “That’s because I’m not a Sith!” She powered down Kylo’s lightsaber but resisted the urge to toss it aside, not quite trusting that he would show her mercy. And for the briefest moment of pure instinct...I thought I could stop it.

The Jedi Master followed her movements but did not shut off his saber, his body still tensed and ready for any indication of betrayal.

“Who are you?”

Rey from nowhere.

“I’m Rey.” Her voice shook. Adrenaline from this duel—much like her first aerial dogfight so long ago yet still so far ahead coursing through her body. Another man’s face flashed in her memory, the same introduction in the darkened corridors of a dilapidated ship, and her heart ached.

The sound of a saber deactivating drew her back into the present. The past .

Ben had holstered his weapon and joined his uncle at the top of the steps, guarding his flank. The wide column was the only thing separating her from two skilled duelists and she knew how well lightsabers could cut through stone.

“I sense great fear in you,” Skywalker said after their mutual silence. “And anger.”

Rey raised her chin up defiantly. If she had her staff she could easily defend herself. Kylo’s blade was unwieldy in her small hands, the kyber within struggling to burst free in every direction each time it was ignited. Of course she was frightened—Luke Skywalker had faced down, and defeated, worse enemies than her. Kylo Ren had murdered countless others, including Jedi.

“The dark side is wrapped around you like a cloak.” His face pinched as though she smelled unpleasant. With her new body she doubted it, but couldn’t be sure.

“But also light, uncle,” Ben murmured in his deep voice.

Get out of my head.

“A balance,” Rey interjected before Luke could counter his nephew’s claims. Powerful light, powerful darkness. “The Force sent me here so I could save the galaxy.”

Chapter 2: The Test

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Rey walked the length of her…to call it a room seemed generous, but Luke indicated that it was a temporary arrangement (until he decided whether or not to kill her was left unspoken between them). She had parted with Kylo’s saber only somewhat reluctantly since it was her only weapon, despite the fact that it was unwieldy and an amputation accident waiting to happen.

As Luke fitted strange cuffs around her wrists, Kylo—Ben—had hovered like an anxious scrapper, eager for a ship to crash so that he could scavenge it. Ironic, Rey thought humorlessly.

Force-dampening cuffs, the Jedi master had explained, his expression troubled, as though embarrassed that he even owned a pair. Rey thought they would come in handy against any budding Sith lords, herself not included—despite Skywalker’s belief to the contrary.

It took her eight steps to reach one end of her cell and another six to reach the door. She had tried to meditate as the sun came up, but with her connection to the Force stifled, it was an exercise in futility and she had quickly fallen asleep. She paced to dispel the pins and needles crawling up and down her legs and arse. When she stretched her arms above her head, her fingertips barely brushed the top of her room, the stone cold and slightly damp in the morning chill. The cuffs were more like bracelets than shackles, her arms free to move about. She had examined them and, after six or seven(ty) attempts to remove them, deduced that they were fitted almost seamlessly against her wrists and only Luke could remove them, likely through the Force.

She had spent some time exploring her new—old—body in the pale morning light. It was her body, but reborn, as though the Force had cleansed it of any malady or imperfection. The familiar calluses on her fingers from years of scavenging (and, later, lightsaber training) were gone, her skin smooth and foreign to her own touch. The scar on her hip from faulty climbing rigging had disappeared. Even the embarrassing burn on her toe when she had dropped a training lightsaber was erased. It was as if Rey of Jakku had ceased to exist—and yet her current existence in the past in her old-new body was evidence to the contrary.

Rey huffed—this was a waste of her time. If the Force had somehow sent her back to the past, why would it allow her to be captured and dumped into a cell? She had to escape and somehow convince Ben and Luke to talk about their…problems to avoid a disastrous future.

On the edge of her periphery in the Force, she felt a small light like a flickering candle flame approach. Curious, Rey pressed her ear against the aged wooden door. The temple, or wherever Luke had deemed a safe enough distance to house her, was constructed in and of the stone and wood naturally occurring on the planet. It had been too dark for Rey to see any details when the Skywalker men had escorted her from the old ruin to her current location, though she hadn’t heard any automated doors nor felt any duracreet beneath her feet.

The curious light in the Force grew closer and Rey could feel them reaching out tentatively to touch her own subdued signature. She gasped, stumbling back when their signature rammed into her own like a punch to her kidney—an inexperienced user. There was a spike of alarm in their signature before they scurried away, their light dimming as it quickly exited her periphery.

She sighed as her potential ally fled the scene before tensing as she recognized what drove them away—Kylo—Ben was approaching the other end of her muted perception of the Force. Rey backed away from the door, knees slightly bent as her body instinctively readied itself for battle.

Ben’s signature was subdued and hesitant, which confused Rey only for as long as it took him to unlock her cell and open the door. She rushed forward, leaping up with a snarl as her thighs hugged his broad shoulders, her hands around his head. She twisted her body and legs and used her momentum to send him sprawling like a fallen massive tree. At the last second, he used the Force to cushion his fall but Rey was already up and sprinting towards an exit, sensing a breeze from some open door or window.

“Wait!” His growl was more angry than annoyed and Rey could hear the shadow of Ren in his tone. “Come back!”

Rey kept running, her steps never faltering as she sought the veritable galaxy of lights in her Force periphery. She heard the chattering of overlapping voices and her stride slowed as she approached what appeared to be an open-air refectory, long tables set up and down the hall in some semblance of order with younglings and teenagers of various races seated together.

A few of them nearby noticed her and ceased conversation before whispering at her sudden appearance. Word spread and soon the entire hall was silent. The doorless arches leading to what appeared to be training grounds filtered in sunlight and a cool breeze that dried the sweat on her neck.

Too late she heard Ben’s lumbering steps as he slammed into her like a bantha, arms wrapped securely around her. “Don’t move,” he growled in her ear as she struggled to escape his grasp.

“Let go of me you monster!”

A group of younglings closest to the pair scurried away in alarm when he lifted her off the ground and she flailed with her feet, kicking the table and upending cutlery, attempting to regain control of the fight. She felt the Force surge through her, despite the cuffs—and she realized it must be Ben and their…connection.

Some of the older Padawans ran towards them, hands on their sabers as they formed a semi-circle around the pair. A young male with green hair stepped forward hesitantly, hands moving deftly to snap two cylindrical pieces together. “Ben, what’s going on?”

“Back off, Jacen! I’ve got this. She’s probably a Sith—”

Rey threw her head back, colliding with his face and he grunted in pain.

“I told you,” Rey growled, “I’m not a Sith!” You are, she bit her tongue. His grip slackened only slightly, but it was enough for her to wriggle free and snatch the saber attached to his belt. When she ignited the blue blade, the other Padawans around her did the same and she was surrounded by a rainbow of humming lights.

“I’m not a Sith,” she repeated slowly as she put the earthen wall to her back. The entire refectory was silent, some of the older Padawans had herded out the younglings to safety. “I’m not here to hurt anyone, I just need to speak to Master Skywalker and explain everything. Preferably without being locked up. Again.”

Ben stood off to her side, one hand cupping his broken and bleeding nose, his brown eyes staring at her with such intensity she felt the Force swell up in her chest.

She made the mistake of relaxing her stance slightly and Ben used the Force to pull Jacen’s saber out of his hand. As soon as it flew into his grip he ignited the saber and twin blades of blue light clashed when Rey raised her saber to block.

“I’m not going back to that cell,” she intoned calmly. It had always been difficult to center herself in battle, as Leia had attempted to teach her, and even more so when (mostly) cut off from the Force.

“Put the saber down and your hands up and you might live long enough to plead your case to my uncle,” Ben murmured in his deep voice, blood between his teeth.

Rey snorted. “I’d rather eat a tauntaun than surrender to the likes of you.” She smirked when some of the students tittered before pushing back against his blade and leaping over the semi-circle. She took off running towards the training grounds, hoping to put some distance between her and Ben.

Her other half gave chase, the other students not far behind—she wondered if one or more had gone looking for Skywalker. A sinking feeling in her stomach grew as she realized her plan lacked…an actual plan. She had already attempted to sway Luke the other night but he had put her in a cell. What more could she say without revealing the full truth and risk being called crazy or worse, killed?

Rey ran past Padawans who had been in the middle of their morning forms before scattering at her approach. She could hear the others coordinating a pincer move, their lithe footsteps spreading out around her and Ben’s lumbering steps hounding her heels. Rey’s lungs burned as she pushed herself towards the jungle, hoping to lose her pursuers. As she wove between the trees and thick foliage, her training with Leia took over—evading students as easily as she evaded the training droids.

The Force pulled her off her feet and she yelped as Ben yanked her back to him. “You’re not getting away so easily.”

She swung her saber in a wide slash when she got close enough and Ben’s control over her body faltered. Rey fell back into old habits—every time she encountered Ren on some planet in their future they would inevitably fight—long enough for the Resistance to escape or until his Knights arrived to back up their master. Their battles were endless stalemates, ending in retreat and no clear winner. The only time she had won was the only time he had underestimated her; the scar on his face had reminded him never to make that mistake again. She wondered if this younger Ben would make the same mistake without a decade of experience, anger, and the Dark Side to ensure his victory. A thought crossed her mind when her blade swung too close to his face: what would happen if she scarred him this early in his timeline? Do it, a sinister voice snapped like an animal in her mind.

Ben ducked and parried with an ease Rey had never seen in him before; the anger and wild movements of Kylo Ren did not exist; he was a centered Jedi, sure in his actions—it was jarring to fight him like this.

The other Padawans had found and surrounded them, sabers at the ready in case she overtook Ben. The feeling of emptiness in her gut returned. This is not going to go the way you think, Luke’s voice berating even across time. The longer she kept up the fight, the less they would be inclined to trust her. She had to surrender, much as she raged against the thought of losing to the likes of Kylo Ren.

As she powered down the saber, Rey tried to convince herself she was conceding to Ben and that it didn’t count as a loss against her enemy in the future. She tossed his saber back to him and he instinctively caught it, his stance straightening out of his fighting form. She raised her empty hands for the others to see before two stepped forward to restrain her. Rey did not struggle, her gaze on Ben as he handed the green-haired boy’s saber back to him.

“I’ll go back—but not to that cell,” she directed her terms to Solo who almost seemed disappointed that she had surrendered. “You can even keep these cuffs on,” she added with a cheeky smile.

Ben snorted; he knew how effective those cuffs had been at dampening her connection to the Force. She could hear Ben’s low voice murmuring something to the others but his words were lost on the wind that ripped through the group, the jungle foliage a symphony of noise, like the applause of a crowd after an entertaining performance. Rey could feel his agitation through their Bond—and his excitement. “Come on,” he instructed loudly to his cohort and the group took up a practiced escort and flanking formation.

With a nervous pang in her chest, Rey wondered which of these students would join Ren in the future as his Knights.

They had confined her to a different room, and Rey was pleased to see it had some sparse furniture and a window (too narrow for her to climb through). Luke had been waiting at the refectory when they returned, radiating calm, his hands tucked into the folds of his dark cloak. Rey felt only slightly guilty for the chaos, but no one had been hurt or killed, so she raised her chin defiantly when she stood before him.

“Master Skywalker,” she greeted jovially. He raised an eyebrow.

“The younglings didn’t get to finish their breakfast,” he stated simply as he surveyed the echo of chaos around the refectory. “Now they’re late for morning forms.”

“Uncle—“

“Ben let me out.” She almost smiled at his sputtering. He sounded like a choking porg.

“That’s not true—”

“The door was wide open,” she continued, crossing her arms.

“You attacked me,” he justified.

“After you opened the door,” she shot back.

“Enough, both of you,” Luke cut in, pinching the bridge of his nose with his gloved hand—the mechanical one, if Rey recalled. She wondered why he covered it. “The rest of you are dismissed,” he nodded at the remaining Padawans who dispersed reluctantly, eager to watch the pair be chastised. Skywalker sighed heavily once the three of them were all that remained. “You will be taken back to your room,” he directed the instruction to Rey who hastily nudged Ben.

He scowled at her, rubbing his side. “She uh, wants a better room.” Ben’s ears were red when Luke turned his attention on him. “The other is a storage closet, Uncle,” he added weakly.

“This isn’t a hotel.”

“It’s not a jail either,” Rey reasoned quietly, hands on her hips. “It’s a school, with bright young minds, their potential in the Force brimming with possibility.”

Luke’s eyes fell to her cuffs and then to Ben who shrugged. “They don’t seem to completely cut her off,” he explained.

“That’s impossible,” Luke murmured to himself, turning away from the pair. After what seemed like an age, he swept his robe aside and faced them. “Very well, you’ll be relocated to a Padawan’s room, but the cuffs stay on.” He gave Ben a meaningful look, “And the door stays locked unless I say otherwise.”

Based on the sun’s journey across the sky, it was hours after her breakfast—delivered by a droid and eaten in quiet solace—before someone returned to unlock her door, only it was not Luke. This humanoid man was dressed for travel, as though he’d just returned from off-planet.

He pulled the strap of his satchel over his head before shrugging off the weathered forest-green poncho. As he walked forward, his gloved hand readjusted the saber hilt attached to his brown belt. The movement drew her attention and Rey was curious at its design—much longer than any saber she had encountered before, and it appeared to have two emitter matrices.

“You must be Luke’s new stray,” the man spoke with a hint of mirth despite his solemn face. She bristled at that, but only straightened her spine in stubborn silence. His green eyes seemed sad as they assessed her.

The same eyes in different people, Maz’s voice echoed in her memory. Whose eyes, Rey could not be sure. She had never seen this Jedi before, but he appeared to be older than Luke, with streaks of silver spun through his red hair.

A curious beep and metal clinking against stone heralded the arrival of a small droid.

“Hello there,” Rey smiled at the red and white BD unit as it hopped into the room after the man. It leapt onto the table as a springboard to reach the Jedi’s shoulders. He chuckled when he responded kindly to Rey.

“I’m Cal Kestis,” the man introduced before gesturing to the droid on his shoulder, “this is—”

“BD-1,” Rey interrupted with a slight smirk. BD-1’s aperture lenses oscillated between contracting and widening as they studied her. He hopped on Cal’s shoulder and beeped in delight.

“You understand droidspeak.” It wasn’t a question and Kestis didn’t seem surprised. “That’s good, you’ll get along great with the other wrench jockeys in the hangar.”

“I’m sure I would…if Master Skywalker ever lets me out of my new cell.”

He chuckled at that. “You’re wondering what I’ve come to you for.”

“It may have crossed my mind,” Rey responded, attempting aloofness. The Jedi smiled softly before glancing down at his feet. He reminded Rey of her younger self—unused to prolonged social interactions, unwilling to maintain eye contact—someone accustomed to keeping a low profile and staying out of trouble.

“Luke tells me you’re strong in the Force,” he looked back up, his forefinger and thumb rubbing together at his side. An unconscious habit, Rey noted.“And it seems I missed quite the showing this morning.”

“Can’t really demonstrate if you’re here for a show.” She raised her hands to reveal her dampening cuffs.He didn’t need to know the cuffs were not completely effective.

BD-1 beeped sadly, wondering if he could slice her cuffs. Kestis threw the droid a fondly exasperated look before crossing his arms over his blue tunic.

“No, I…have a unique ability that Luke would like me to apply, with your permission, of course.”

Rey frowned. “What ability?”

“I can sense…echoes in the Force from objects or people I touch. Their history and memories.” He seemed reluctant to reveal the information, as though he disliked using the ability. When he took one step forward, Rey retreated. Get out of my head!

“Objects?” Her voice was small and Rey felt her heart beat faster as she recalled a dizzying flash of images and sounds the first time she had touched the Skywalker lightsaber.

“It’s called psychometry. A rare Jedi ability,” he explained, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her reaction. “It’ll help us assess whether or not you’re a threat to the Praxeum.”

“I would never hurt the younglings,” Rey nearly snarled, only barely containing the urge to shout. She and Finn had just begun to seek out and gather younglings strong with the Force before she…was sent here.

“So let’s prove it—what do you say?” His tone was gentle and steady, as though working through a tech issue or puzzle.

Rey inhaled, remembering her meditative exercises before nodding, holding her hand out as though to shake the Jedi’s hand. Kestis reached out and gently took it in both of his. He released her hand immediately as though she’d burned him, but the harrowed look on his face told her it must have seemed like ages for him. BD-1 beeped in concern, hopping down Cal’s arm to the crook of his elbow to better study his face, his scanner light bathing the room in blue for a few seconds.

Rey’s throat was dry. “Are…are you all right? What did you see?” She hoped he hadn’t witnessed her slicing Kylo Ren’s face with his uncle’s lightsaber—it would make her goal of rehabilitating the two a tad more difficult. She wondered nervously if he had seen Luke’s confession and the revelation of Ben’s betrayal—that she wasn’t the threat to the Praxeum they were all worried about.

Kestis looked at her, his expression now guarded. “I saw enough.” Before Rey could press for more answers, he turned and gathered his belongings. “I should report to Luke.”

“Wait!” Her protest went unheeded as the door was pulled shut in his wake, leaving Rey in the silence of her cell once again. “Kark…”

After nightfall and a simple dinner, Luke had returned to escort her to the top of the Praxeum into a large circular room with a glass dome. The binary moons bathed the chamber in pale light, rendering the torches and candles unnecessary. There were about ten wooden chairs, draped and decorated with various cloth and pillows arranged in a circle at the center of the room; one by one they were occupied by various Jedi as they filtered in after their own dinner. Most were aliens, but Rey could sense their power, despite her cuffs, they were Jedi masters.

Dressed in the beige layers of a Padawan—a change of clothes given to her by a protocol droid after Luke had observed the sorry state of her blue and grey outfit—she sat on a cushion in the center of the Masters’ Chamber, Rey attempted to meditate as Luke chatted in hushed tones with the other masters—Rey had only recognized Cal when he eventually arrived. BD-1 had hopped down from the Jedi’s chair to settle in Rey’s lap and she was glad for the comfort.

“You must be Rey,” a woman’s soft, lilting voice announced from the door. When Rey opened her eyes she saw a tall Togruta draped in a white cape, a hood over the tips of her montrals. She exuded a calm that Rey had not felt since she was reunited with her friends after the Battle of Crait. The woman gave off a regal air, as though she had spent enough time in the company of royalty to emulate it. Rey was reminded of General Organa.

“I’m Ahsoka Tano,” the Togruta introduced herself as she pulled down her hood to reveal more clearly her blue and white striped montrals and long lekku. She smiled at Rey’s hesitation. “I know this must all seem extremely confusing, but I promise we can solve whatever problems you’re facing.”

“I’m not a Sith,” Rey blurted, her face hot under the woman’s sympathetic gaze.

She approached her own designated seat. “I know.”

Rey believed her. “At first, I wasn’t sure why the Force sent me here, but I’m beginning to understand.” She couldn’t risk glancing at Luke, seated in her periphery.

“I’m more interested in how the Force sent you here.” Ahsoka’s voice was steady with sage experience. “Cal’s description of your Force echo revealed a…chaotic history of events and people that we’d like to clear up. Let’s begin with Ben.”

Rey swallowed but her throat felt like as dry as a Jakku desert. She glanced around the room at the masters assembled; two chairs remained empty but it seemed her trial had begun.

Cal shifted forward in his seat, equally uncomfortable with the attention drawn to him as Rey. “You seem to have a history with young Solo, despite him never having met you before your encounter in the old temple.”

Rey frowned, recalling his first words to her, It is you.

Cal carried on, “In your memories, Ben appears often and…” he hesitated, glancing at Luke who resolutely kept his cerulean gaze on Rey. “He wielded a red saber—the same one you carried when you first arrived here.”

The other masters murmured at this revelation but Tano and Luke were silent—did they know? Were they already aware of his dark side tendencies?

“The two of you seemed to engage in many battles,” Cal carried on, shutting his eyes as he recalled the images. “There were flashes of some familiar faces—Leia, Kes and Shara’s boy, Chewie; but the majority of Rey’s memories were centered around Ben.”

Kriff, Rey knew she was backed into a corner.

“The question is: why Ben?” A blue Twi’lek master leaned forward, eyeing Rey suspiciously. “If she’s an agent of the Sith, why would she risk coming forward now, with Solo closely guarded by all of us?”

“She’s not a dark sider,” Kestis explained, almost tiredly. “But there is something within her that ties her to Ben—I’m just not sure what it is.”

“What do you mean, Cal?” Ahsoka’s soft voice seemed to blanket the masters, and Rey, with serenity.

“The Force ties them together,” it was Luke who answered. “I sense something of my nephew in her.”

Rey’s face was hot again as the masters eyed her critically.

Luke went on, “There’s something of her in Ben as well.” He seemed extremely concerned by their connection and Rey knew from experience he was right to worry—although, blowing up a stone hut seemed like a slight overreaction for touching hands.

A faint pull behind her navel distracted Rey when she realized it was Ben, somewhere nearby in the Praxeum, his signature reaching out questingly for hers.

“Rey,” Ahsoka drew her attention, her blue eyes seemed to stare beyond the surface and into her soul. “Have you had any formal Jedi training?”

You need a teacher! Ben’s voice echoed from the past—the future. Rey pushed back harshly against present-Ben’s nosy probing before nodding, very pointedly not looking in Luke’s direction. The other masters didn’t seem aware of Ben’s presence.

“How many years?” Ahsoka prompted kindly.

“Only a few months.” Rey struggled to do the math quickly, adding her weeks with Luke to her training under Leia. Some of the masters appeared surprised by her admission, doubtless sensing her raw power simmering beneath the surface of the dampening cuffs.

“Have you your own saber?”

Rey bit her lip before shaking her head. “I used borrowed sabers. I never got the chance to make my own before I…came here.”

Ahsoka smiled. “Seems an excursion with Ezra and the next batch of younglings should be in order.”

“That remains to be seen,” Luke grumbled behind his beard and Rey did her best not to shoot him a glare.

“How old are you, child?” A Cerean master enquired kindly.

She hesitated before answering, wondering if her younger self had been stranded on Jakku yet—she would be about ten if her math was right. “Twenty. I think. I don’t know when I was born, my parents were…” Filthy junk traders who sold you off for drinking money, “gone when I was very young.”

“How is it that you’ve escaped our notice for so long?” This from a human female who looked at her fellow masters (and the rest looking to Luke) for an answer as Rey could only shrug.

“Rey, when you said the Force sent you here,” Ahsoka interjected. “You meant more than just this planet.”

There was a beat of silence and Rey realized it was a question. She nodded minutely.

“I must ask, before you came here, did you move through a gateway of stars?”

Rey frowned. “I’m sorry I don’t…understand. Do you mean a hyperlane?” Her palms were damp but she could only recall the shuddering turbulence of the ship’s groaning hull, the darkness that engulfed her beyond the light.

Ahsoka was quiet as she assessed Rey for signs of deceit. “No.” Her expression was unreadable as she glanced at Luke and Rey had the sinking feeling she had failed a test.

Chapter 3: The Confession

Chapter Text

Rey was on probation. She was surprised she’d lasted this long without suffering some terrible torture or demise. It had been two days since the Force had hurled her into the past, yet it felt like a lifetime.

The cuffs stayed on, but she was free to leave her room. With both Kestis and Tano vouching for her non-Sith tendencies, Luke had no choice but to allow her a modicum of freedom.

“No sabers, no fighting with my nephew—or the other Padawans,” he’d warned. When he saw the shining light of hope in her eyes at the thought of being given free rein of the Praxeum, he added, “You’ll be restricted to the hangar for now—Cal tells me you have some skill with ships.”

Rey didn’t complain about this caveat to her freedom—how would he even stop her from wandering elsewhere? The dark thought flit through her mind as quickly as a blink, but she pushed it down to the deep corners of her mind, out of Skywalker’s grasp should he decide to take a peek into her thoughts.

He led her through the vaulted stone corridors and up ancient steps towards the hangar. Curved windows that mimicked the cycles of the moons threw light on the pair as they ascended. “I know my way around ships, yeah. Scrapping, fixing, flying.”

Luke hummed, his pace quick. “You know, I’m something of a pilot myself.”

“X-wings,” Rey acknowledges. She nearly ran into him when he suddenly stopped to stare at her. “So I’ve heard,” she managed to choke out.

“Right,” he murmured, slow to tear his gaze away and resume their walk to the hangar. It was close, if the smell of fuel was any indication.

“Have you…spoken to Ben?” she probed innocently, her hands clasped behind her back, the cuffs clinking against each other.

“Yes, and he won’t be unlocking any doors without my permission next time.”

Rey’s hope deflated faster than a crashing ship on Jakku. She had her work cut out for her if she was going to rehabilitate Ben Solo and Luke Skywalker.

When they rounded the corner, the space ahead was open to the elements with a high dome and the archways creating the illusion of an insectoid hive. Foliage and tree cover beyond the arches no doubt masked the hangar well—a natural cave system utilized by Skywalker and his Praxeum.

Five ships were docked, but only one appeared ready for takeoff. The Togruta master stood by the gangplank chatting jovially with the green-haired boy from before—Jacen, if Rey remembered correctly. Now that she wasn’t running or fighting for her life, she noticed the finer details of his face and body, the tips of his tan ears were pointed slightly and tinged with a dusting of green. He eyed Rey, slightly surprised at seeing her in the hangar, but did not question her presence if Master Skywalker wasn’t bothered.

Luke led her towards them. “Leaving so soon? You just got back.”

“Yes,” Ahsoka announced with a heavy sigh. “There’s much to do and I have to find answers.”

A set of lively boots thunking down the ramp announced the pilot. “We ready to go?”

Rey gasped softly when she spotted him—his curls still dark without a trace of grey, brown skin soft and lacking stress lines; he couldn’t be much older than her. She recognized the moment he spotted her, his face shifting from professional to flirty, an easy smile on his face.

Luke and Ahsoka stood off to the side, speaking in hushed tones. Were she not distracted, Rey would have eavesdropped.

“Hello,” he dragged out the syllables and Rey couldn’t help but laugh. “Who might this be? New student?”

“I’m Rey.”

I know, his voice echoed in her memory. “I’m Poe,” he said aloud. He reached out to shake her hand and Jacen cleared his throat, causing Poe to jump off the ramp to tackle him into a hug. “Don’t worry Jay, you’re still my guy.” His words were friendly but their touches and gazes lingered. “You been eating?” Poe looked the Jedi up and down, eyes narrowed as he patted his arms and chest. “You should eat more, you’re getting skinny.”

“Yes, mom.”

Poe pulled back and pointed at him. “Don’t even joke about that, you know she will sic Chop on me if she finds out you’re out here being starved and I did nothing about it.”

Jacen rolled his eyes at his dramatics but chuckled, revealing pointy incisors. “Bring me a crate of meiloorun when you get back?”

“Will do, buddy.” He brought Jacen in for a final hug.

Rey, a silent spectator, couldn’t help but glance around the top of the ship’s ramp, expecting to see or at least hear BB-8’s excitable beeps. The ship was silent save for the coolant occasionally emitting steam as it idled. “Where are you off to?” she couldn’t help but ask, a longing to linger in familiar company overtaking her.

Poe’s face grew serious as he cleared his throat, “I’m afraid that’s classified—”

“Lothal,” Jacen interrupted bluntly, smirking at the pilot’s withering look. Rey wasn’t familiar with the planet, but she nodded to mask her ignorance.

“Master Tano, by your leave,” Poe called out as he jogged back up into the ship, waving off the young Jedi.

Luke and Ahsoka had taken a lap around the hangar and had only now turned back towards the vessel. She shook her head. “No matter how many times I tell him I’m not a Master…” she grumbled good-naturedly.

Rey’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re not?”

“Technically I’m not even a Jedi,” she whispered conspiratorially. When Rey glanced down at the two sabers attached to either side of her hip, Ahsoka laughed melodically. “I left the Jedi Order a long time ago, before my training was complete. So I’m just a…very skilled Force user. With lightsabers.”

“Seems like that’ll be an official designation soon enough,” Luke intoned as he looked between Ahsoka and Rey.

“Don’t be a grump,” Tano admonished and Rey stifled a smile at Luke’s expression—the shadow of a child behind the facade of a man. She turned to Rey before she boarded the ship. “I hope the next time we see each other you’ll be out of cuffs. Who knows, maybe we can even spar to break in a saber you’ve made?”

Rey nodded, eyes bright, excitement swelling in her chest at the idea. “I’d like that…”

“Ahsoka,” she provided gently when Rey faltered on how to address her. “Luke,” she nodded at the Master. She turned to Jacen and cupped his cheek. “Give your Uncle Ezra my best when he gets back, I have a feeling I won’t be returning to the Praxeum for some time.” She sounded troubled, but Rey wasn’t sure if it was because she feared the journey or the answers she would find at the end of it.

Jacen nodded, “Will do, Aunty Ahsoka.”

Rey was curious about their relationship, he didn’t look like a Togruta, half-blooded or otherwise.

With a final smile, the Togruta disappeared onto the ship, the ramp rising behind her. The Jedi stepped back as the ship took off from the hangar, watching as it became smaller against the blue sky. Luke turned to the boy, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I’d like you to show Rey the ropes around here. She’ll be on probation in the hangar. Master Kestis spoke of her affinity for machinery and droids so I’m sure she’ll come in handy.”

Jacen nodded as he studied Rey, his deep blue eyes were like the oceans around Ahch-To. He held out his hand and Rey shook it. “Jacen Syndulla.”

She didn’t know Jacen in her time (she would have remembered someone with green hair), but the name Syndulla pricked at her memory like a persistent sand tick that she could not find.

“Rey.” The beat of silence that followed hung between them and weighed heavily in her heart—Rey from Nowhere, with no family to belong to. You’re nothing, Kylo’s voice, his words cutting even now, despite his clumsy amendment. Well, she was someone to the Force if it thought she was worth sending back through time.

She felt a sense of serenity, despite the sometimes chaotic atmosphere of the hangar. Working on broken machinery was easier than attempting to get the Skywalker men to communicate. After Ahsoka had left, Jacen had given her a tour of the hangar, introducing her to the operational droids—outdated but still functional, with the occasional mishap.

“No, no, no, no, R4 not there—karabast!” Jacen cursed as he rushed after the droid who rolled away as speedily as its squeaky wheels could carry it.

Rey caught herself smiling. Back on Jakku, each scrapper worked in solitary silence, hoarding their finds from each other. She even found herself humming along to the curiously catchy throat-singing music that Jacen had blasted over the hangar makeshift speakers he’d set up years ago. Apparently he’d temporarily misappropriated Master Kestis’s music collection. Rey chuckled whenever Jacen would belt out a section he knew well.

Being around Jacen and the hangar droids reminded Rey of the Resistance hangars—hiding out in old Rebel bases, the flurry of activity, conversations, and ships as more recruits joined the cause after news of the Supremacy’s destruction had spread. The Praxeum was nowhere near as busy—the only visitor in hours had been one of Jacen’s friends who had eyed Rey suspiciously before handing him some fruit from the lunch they’d missed—Jacen had shared half with her and Rey had to swallow back the lump of emotions that had been lodged in her throat.

“Are you sure you don’t need the C6 processor unit?” Jacen called out from across the hangar at Rey who was leaning so far into the open panel, her feet dangled precariously off of the ladder.

“Yes,” she shouted back. At his silence she chuckled but did not look up. “Oh, put your pointy eyebrows down, I know what I’m doing.”

When she heard him laugh, she continued to rewire the processor with deft fingers, careful not to electrocute herself—thankfully the dampening cuffs were not conductors, she and Jacen had checked before they’d gotten to work by having R4 shock her wrists with his electro probe. Jacen was very much an ‘ask questions later’ sort of Jedi.

The ship hummed around her with muted life, the exposed pipes and parts exuding an almost uncomfortable heat even while on standby. She had long since tied her hair back into two buns and shed her Padawan layers—how anyone could train or fight in so many tangled layers, she wasn’t sure—and welcomed the breeze from the open arches on her exposed skin.

“Come…on…you…kriffing…” she murmured as she slotted the processor delicately in place, keeping its edges away from the rim of the port. She felt a painful jolt through her and thought, for a heart-stopping moment, that she’d electrocuted herself before realizing it was a familiar feeling. She straightened and hopped backwards onto the old ladder, which wobbled in protest, and surveyed the area. Her eyes passed over Jacen who was chastising a pit droid that was more rust than alloy at this point, waving a wrench over his head. Nothing out of the ordinary, and yet…the music faded away as she stretched her senses across the Force.

“Oh, it’s you,” Rey realized, turning her full attention to the youngling attempting to hide behind some crates near the ship. A small Twi’lek with skin like the Jakku sunsets emerged from their hiding place, a shy smile on her face.

“My name is Asha,” the girl squeaked, bouncing on her bare heels.

Rey hummed. “Hello, kidney-puncher.”

The girl looked confused, tugging on her lekku. “Do you need to see the med droid? Did you hit your head?”

Rey snorted before turning back to continue her work repairing the processor. “Do you need something, little one?”

“What are you working on?”

“The atmospheric processor.”

“What’s that?” Her voice grew closer and Rey realized she had climbed the ladder soundlessly.

Rey ducked back out of the ship to look down at the youngling crowding her on the top step. “Well, uh, this one is responsible for the life-support on a ship.” She tapped the hull in front of them lightly with her fist.

Asha’s eyes were bright as stars when Rey explained the various parts that made a ship run—despite the fact that the one before them was in dire need of multiple repairs and replacement parts. Rey would need to speak with Luke about upgrading the Praxeum’s pitiful fleet; it seemed the pilots of Luke’s generation were unwilling to part with garbage, she thought of the Falcon and the older X-wings the Resistance inherited.

They descended the ladder, Asha asking a thousand questions a second. Rey glanced up at the chronometer hanging above the entrance to the hangar, her stomach growling for attention. Asha giggled at that before launching into the details of a delicious meal she had eaten once back on Ryloth.

A warmth bloomed behind Rey’s navel—a familiar signature scoping her out. Asha didn’t seem to notice, but Rey whirled around to find the menace, a scowl ready on her face. She spotted his silky hair as he quickly ducked out of sight.

“Something you need, Solo?” she called out, drawing Jacen’s attention as well as Asha’s whose signature shrunk inward. An abrupt silence filled the hangar when Jacen cut the music.

She could feel his frustration and embarrassment at being caught before he strode forward through the hangar, attempting an air of aloofness. His steps faltered as his eyes hungrily drank her in—a look she was familiar with from their numerous battles—his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “N-no, just making sure you’re not corrupting Jacen, or the younglings,” he added once he spotted Asha behind Rey’s legs.

Jacen laughed, “She’s not so bad, Ben. Kinda reminds me of Aunt Sabine.”

Rey's eyes narrowed as she observed him, wondering how many aunts and uncles he had. An irrational anger washed over her before she realized it was envy—why was Jacen allowed to have an untold number of family members and she…no, she couldn’t think that way. Finn, Poe, Rose, Kaydel, Jannah and the others were her brothers and sisters. She could not ask for a better family than the Resistance.

Ben’s gaze was fixed on her and she felt the sound in the hangar disappear as though she’d been sucked out of an airlock into the vacuum of space. She hadn’t experienced this feeling in over two years, since the first time it had happened. Rey didn’t have a blaster with her this time, but she was confident enough in her abilities if push came to shove.

Ben’s breathing was shallow and, through their Bond, she could feel his gaze wander, focused on the sweat that dotted her exposed chest and stomach as she stood in only pants and a breastband. The feeling pooling behind her navel intensified and Rey’s face grew hot when she realized she was in a feedback loop of his emotions—his desire.

She cleared her throat and the sound rushed back into the hangar as their connection was severed. Ben looked away, his ears red, as Jacen continued to rave about this Sabine person. Rey wanted to berate Ben—she was covered in machine oil, grease, and sweat for kriff's sake! How was that arousing?

“Jacen,” Rey interrupted his monologuing. “Are we done for the day? I’d like to grab something to eat.”

“Yeah, sure,” he smiled, his sharp incisors oddly endearing, adding to his roguish charm. “Thanks for all your help. See you here tomorrow?”

“Don’t you have lessons or training?” Rey enquired as she gathered her Padawan layers strewn around the hangar, steadfastly ignoring Ben who loomed awkwardly by the entrance.

“I’m twenty-six and basically done all my training.” His chest puffed up, and he wiggled his thick green brows, “Pretty sure I’ll be granted the rank of Master soon.”

Ben let out a harsh laugh. “In your dreams Syndulla. You’ll probably just sit on the council and teach.”

“Can’t be on the council without being a Master,” Jacen countered swiftly with a wink. “Don’t be jealous, Benny, you’ll get there soon enough.”

Rey coughed to dispel a budding—and something told her it was an ongoing—argument. “I was going to have dinner with Asha, you can walk with us,” she directed at Ben, whose hard gaze fell on the Twi’lek. Rey took her hand resolutely.

They walked in silence down the stairs and through the halls of the Praxeum. Rey was content to appreciate the ancient architecture were it not for Ben’s anxiety simmering beneath the surface of their Bond.

“What is it?” she finally snapped, causing Asha to recoil. Rey put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You want to ask me something,” she prompted Ben.

He seemed reluctant to have this conversation in front of a youngling but, unless he was going to proposition her with something scandalous, she didn’t see the harm in having a witness present—in case they ended up fighting. Again.

“Aren’t you supposed to be saving the galaxy? You said the Force sent you here to do that.”

Rey ground her teeth. “I am saving the galaxy.”

“How? Repairing that junk in the hangar?”

Blow that piece of junk out of the sky! Rey frowned at this—it wasn’t a memory she recalled, but it was clearly Kylo’s distressed and angry voice.

Asha’s eyes were wide as she looked between both of them.

“Well, first you and Luke need to have a conversation—about everything.”

Ben blanched at that, swallowing tightly as his steps faltered. “How is that relevant?”

“The fate of the galaxy rests on you two having an emotionally open and honest conversation.”

Ben barked out a short laugh, a genuine smile revealing slightly crooked teeth. She was stunned for a moment—she’d never seen him truly smile before. “So, we’re doomed.” He continued down the hall. Other Padawans who had finished their meals early were quick to move out of his way lest they be trampled. Despite their Bond blurring the balance of power between them, Rey had no doubt Ben exuded a weight in the Force, an almost uncomfortable pressure that even non-Force sensitives could detect. His physical size certainly didn’t help his attempts at being unassuming.

“It’s really quite a simple solution,” Rey countered, quickening her pace to match his, nearly dragging Asha along as the youngling struggled to keep up. “In order for there to be balance, you need to speak with your uncle about everything, all your fears—”

“I don’t have any fears,” he bit back, the humor gone from his face. “I’m not taking psychological advice from a Sith.”

“And I told you I’m not a Sith,” she growled, shoving past him with Asha’s hand securely in hers. She stomped into the buzzing refectory before allowing Asha to guide her forward to where the food was being distributed. Rey didn’t have to look over her shoulder to know that Ben didn’t follow them in. Well, at least she brought it up—any progress was good progress, as Rose would say.

Though they tried to be subtle about it, Rey could still feel the curiosity and gaze of many a Padawan as they made their way with trays of food to a secluded table.

“Rey,” a gravelly voice came from her right and she was surprised to see Luke standing in an alcove near their table. “I’d like for you to join me in evening meditation after dinner.” He smiled at Asha whose signature glowed with happy warmth.

Rey nodded. “Sure, love meditation,” she lied.

There was a twinkle in Luke’s eyes, but Rey was confident that sensing a liar was not an ability granted by the Force…she was mostly confident. After he departed, she was subject to a deluge of questions from Asha, whose purple eyes regarded Rey as though she were some heroic figure of myth and legend. Rey wondered with some melancholy if that was how she had looked at Luke on Ahch-To.

After dinner, many of the students had retreated to various areas of the Praxeum to enjoy their free time before lights out. Rey mused that, in many ways, the school was much like one of the Resistance bases; structured activities and set meal times and schedules. No doubt some of the older Padawans would be brave enough to break curfew and do something reckless or fun. She’d have to ask Jacen about it tomorrow—he seemed the type.

It was only after she walked Asha to her room in the youngling dormitory did she realize that Luke had never told her where they would be meditating. With her belly full, she was less annoyed than she would have been if she had to search for him on an empty stomach. Moving through the Praxeum, she trusted the Force to guide her until she could feel him in the periphery limited by her cuffs.

Luke’s presence in the Force was like a quasar, his brilliant light almost blinding as it pulled her towards him. It was not so difficult to understand why he was worshipped by non-Force sensitives; the stories of his heroics and triumph over the Empire and Darth Vader made perfect sense when glimpsing his Force signature.

He is the Chosen One, an unfamiliar man’s voice echoed in the deep recesses of her mind. Her steps faltered—whose voice was that? He will bring balance…

As she entered the chamber, she was temporarily stunned by the shelves upon shelves of books—flimsi books. The last time Rey had seen such things had been the paltry collection in the hollow of the tree on Ahch-To. Her heart sank as she realized they had probably been the only one of these books to survive the destruction of the Praxeum.

Luke sat towards the back of the archives in a curved, secluded alcove, meditating on a comfortable cushion. She was surprised to see he was not alone.

“Master Skywalker,” she nodded before acknowledging the other, “Master Kestis.” Rey resigned herself to knee pain and a sore back in the morning as she sank down onto another cushion opposite the masters.

“You found me,” Luke observed, his eyes still closed. His tone suggested that he was begrudgingly impressed. “I’m beginning to wonder if those cuffs do anything at all.”

“They look nice,” she couldn’t help but retort with a smile, especially when Luke cracked open one eye. Cal smiled but did not break his meditation, kneeling on the cushions to her right.

“You sure they’re real ysalamiri bones?” Kestis intoned quietly.

Rey did not know what the kark ysalamiri were, but she recoiled, her stomach threatening to heave her hearty dinner, “Bones?”

“What else would be in the temple on Myrkr?” Luke answered Cal’s question, ignoring Rey’s revulsion.

After that, it took her longer than usual to find a modicum of calm as she attempted to meditate. I am one with the Force and the Force is with me… many voices chanted serenely in her mind, including her own.

It was nearly two hours later when Luke spoke again. She had startled when his low voice broke across the trio—Rey was pleased with herself that she’d only fallen asleep for a few minutes this time, a new record. If Luke could tell, he didn’t berate her, which already made him infinitely more forgiving than Leia. Rey shuddered at the memory of being caught sleeping when she ought to have been meditating.

“Can you share with us what visions the Force has granted you?”

Rey’s eyes darted panically from Luke to Cal. “Visions?”

“In your meditation, what did you experience?”

She swallowed, her throat like sand. “There was a calm that encircled me.” Be with me. “I asked the Force for guidance, but I saw nothing.”

Luke hummed, amused. “That’s not really how the Force works.” Her face was hot but his words were gentle. “Why don’t you tell me what you feel?” Reach out. “What do you think the Force is?”

It’s energy—a voice wizened with centuries of experience.

There was no father—a melancholy woman’s soft tones enveloped her in a foreign feeling of warmth.

It surrounds us…binds the galaxy—a man explained, his accent like hers.

The room seemed to sway as a sudden vertigo overcame her, the influx of voices too numerous and overwhelming to discern. She breathed deeply, willing herself not to faint or else she’d die of embarrassment. His explanation on Ahch-To rose up helpfully to the forefront of her memory. “It’s the energy between all things, a tension, a balance, that binds the universe together.”

From the slow rise of his eyebrows, she knew she’d impressed him this time around. The corner of Cal’s lip turned up in a subtle smile. Rey had never attended any kind of formal schooling in her life, but she flushed with pride—even if she was using her foreknowledge to cheat. She figured if the Force was unhappy about it, it would let her know.

“Well, I’d say the Force did give you an answer if it guided you to that conclusion,” Luke mused, relaxing his pose slightly, one hand on his knee. “But you’re still a mystery. How you arrived on this planet with no ship and no warning—your signature suddenly blooming to life in the Force in the dead of night.” His cerulean eyes darkened, “How you came to wield a Sith’s saber.”

Rey’s breathing grew shallow and she looked to Kestis for some semblance of reassurance, but the older Master’s gaze was on his hands, a troubled look on his face, the wrinkles around his eyes more pronounced—no doubt recalling her memories. She looked back at Luke, whose hard gaze seemed to entreat a response, but she couldn’t find the words. “I believe…the Force wants me to stop something terrible from happening but I…don’t yet know how.” It was all she could offer at this juncture of her journey—she feared that any detailed revelations of the future might accelerate the events in the timeline. She couldn’t risk it.

Luke pursed his lips and she refrained from flinching at his look. “Well, when you figure it out, you know where to find me,” he eyed her bone bracelets meaningfully before rising to depart. “Master Kestis,” he bid farewell and Cal nodded in kind but did not make any move to leave.

Rey felt a vice around her chest as Luke carried his disappointment out of the archives and through the Praxeum, his signature blinding against her own pitiful spark. When she felt Kestis through the Force, like a curious and cautious hand on her shoulder, she swallowed her fear before turning her attention to the remaining Master.

“I think I have the same ability as you—but I don’t know how to use it.”

The redhead did not seem surprised by her blurted confession but eyed her expectantly.

“The first time it happened, it was an accident. I touched the—a saber and saw all sorts of things; visions that were not my own, mixed with my memories.” Her breath caught as she recalled the nauseating flash of images.

Cal was silent as he allowed her a moment to collect herself.

“And ever since I…came here I’m…hearing voices in my head.”

“Well,” his tone was gentle and Rey was grateful for it. “Voices and sounds can often accompany the visions when you touch—”

“No, I don’t just mean echoes from my past,” Rey interrupted, impassioned and somewhat erratic. “There are voices I don’t recognize, conversations I’ve never witnessed, and they come on unprompted—I haven’t touched anyone or anything to read their echo.”

His red eyebrows pinched together in concern but he withheld his thoughts.

“I think,” Rey licked her dry lips, the air in the archives suddenly too stifling. “I think the Force wants me to hear them, these voices lost to time, but I don’t know why.”

Cal was silent for a long time, his fingers entwined as he considered her words. Rey didn’t know how long they’d sat in the archives, but it was long enough that BD-1 had hopped in at some point, worriedly seeking out his Jedi. BD looked between them before settling in Rey’s lap again, as though he could feel her distress. She wondered if the Force also bound droids within the balance of the galaxy. Rey wanted to believe so as BD took her finger in his foot clamp, his lenses dilating as they analyzed her.

Kestis watched them without seeing, his eyes faraway in thought. “You’ve given me much to think about, Rey. I will meditate on this some more, why don’t you go ahead and get some rest?”

She bit her lip but nodded at the clear dismissal, gently ushering BD-1 off her leg with a sad smile. “Thank you, good night Master Kestis.”

“Rey,” he said suddenly when she stood. He rubbed his forefinger and thumb together. “Sometimes we can be our own worst enemy.”

She frowned at his cryptic words but did not speak, waiting for more.

“I know what it’s like to run from painful memories,” he continued, his voice heavy with the weight of grief and suffering.

Rey swallowed the lump in her throat as she thought of the black nothingness—that gap in her memory—not a gap, a self-imposed block.

Cal sighed heavily. “No matter how haunting they are, you must confront them.”

Chapter 4: The Spark

Chapter Text

Luke did not trust Rey—if that was even her real name. Whatever game she was playing, he would outmaneuver her. Despite Cal and Ahsoka’s reassurance, he wasn’t convinced she wasn’t a Sith—the dark side permeated her signature; she was an enigma in the Force that Luke had yet to riddle. How she had remained hidden to him and the other masters for so long, he could only speculate. Perhaps she had cut herself off from the Force—but to do so at a young age would have meant severe childhood trauma.

He had watched her carefully as she wandered the Praxeum, her curiosity and melancholy broadcast unconsciously through the Force. Despite her power, she was untrained, or at least, untrained in the ways of the Force that Luke valued. She clearly knew how to handle a saber and her power was evident through her overcoming the ysalamiri cuffs. But she was undisciplined and lacked focus for the spiritual side of the Force, unable to meditate or rein in her emotions, especially around Ben.

His nephew was another problem Luke could not deal with at the moment. He didn’t want to admit it, but Rey had forced him to confront the reality that a darkness had rooted itself in the deep recesses of Ben’s mind. He had become more withdrawn and moody and his dreams were distressing enough to wake Luke on more than one occasion. Luke was reluctant to believe Rey was an omen from the Force itself. After Cal had read Rey’s echo, they had sat for hours discussing the chaotic flashes.

“Ben appeared in her visions,” Cal had told him with a grave voice. “He was wielding a red saber.”

“He…falls?” Luke could not look at the older Jedi’s face as his voice wavered, “I failed him…failed Leia…” Even with light-years between them, he could feel his twin’s signature—a bright spark in the Force that mirrored his own, like the burning binary suns on Tatooine.

Cal had leaned forward, his hand on Luke’s knee reassuringly. “His eyes weren’t yellow.”

Luke had puzzled over the revelation—how could Ben have a red saber and attack others if he weren’t a Sith?

“He’s not a Sith,” Cal had repeated, almost to himself. “But if he was attacking Rey then maybe he…turns traitor.” Even without his emotions being broadcast across the Force, it was obvious the words pained Cal to even say.

Luke had stood suddenly, putting distance between them. “Everyone is always so quick to judge Ben, maybe—maybe Rey is the traitor!” He had winced at how whiny his tone sounded.

He rubbed his temple as he gathered his thoughts. He could not fail Ben—he would not.

Luke reached out and placed his palm on the sacred tree at the center of the old temple, just beyond where Rey had appeared that night. The bark was rough beneath his flesh hand, but it brought him focus and peace.

In his periphery of the Force, he sensed a ship with familiar signatures enter the atmosphere. The younglings were back with their kyber. Luke turned away from his melancholic meditation (brooding, Leia would say) and made his way to the hangar. He was confident enough for now to allow Rey supervised training sessions under Pela’s watchful eye. He could sense his nephew hovering as the senior Padawan took Rey through the motions of the various Forms. As he crossed the courtyard from the old temple to the Praxeum, he spotted the girls (and Ben) and was amused to note that a gaggle of younglings had gathered around the pair, moving their own practice sabers in the correct motions of Form II while Rey stood stiff, her motions awkward. At his distance, he couldn’t tell Rey’s expression as anything other than pinched. The group did not notice the Master and so Luke continued his journey to the hangar. As he hurried his pace, he felt his cheeks burn—Leia would definitely never let it go if she ever witnessed his behaviour.

The hangar was quiet for once, Jacen was not blasting his (Cal’s) music and the droids were all tinkering away silently with individual projects. Hera’s boy stood at the bottom of the ship’s ramp, nearly bouncing on his feet as the engines cooled and steam pooled beneath the ship. Ezra stood at the top of the ramp, pointing at each youngling as they excitedly disembarked the transport, his lips moving soundlessly. Jacen laughed. “Shouldn’t you do a headcount of the younglings before boarding your ship?”

Ezra smiled wide behind his beard, descending the ship at a jog, arms spread to embrace the young Jedi. “Jace my boy, come here!”

Despite the fact that Jacen towered over his uncle, Ezra lifted him up and swung him around with ease. Luke wondered if he was cheating by using the Force. Luke had met and flown with Hera a number of times in his youth, and the Twi’lek was shorter than him. Jacen took after his father in many ways, Ezra would often reminisce to Luke with a sad smile.

“How was the trip?” Jacen asked, blue eyes shining with anticipation.

Ezra considered for a moment, “Routine.”

Jacen seemed satisfied—no trip to retrieve kyber would ever top his journey. Luke hovered, patiently waiting his turn to greet the Jedi, wistful as he recalled his own memories of rushing forward to embrace Han or Leia after a dogfight or a particularly long absence. Ezra spotted him and his face softened before asking Jacen to herd the younglings down to the refectory for a well-deserved meal. The kids ran ahead, needing no escort, tracking dregs of sand on the floor as they went.

Luke raised an eyebrow, “It seems you brought back half of Jedha with you.”

“You know how kids are with sand, especially younglings from aquatic worlds,” Ezra waved a dismissive hand as he approached, his blaster-lightsaber bobbing against his hip. Luke smirked, thinking of how his old master would have had a conniption at the sight of such a weapon.

They embraced before Luke brushed off errant grains from his broad shoulder, sighing softly.

“What’s happened?” Ezra sensed there was a lot he had missed in the week he’d been gone.

Rey huffed in frustration, pushing back sweaty strands of hair. In her old life, around the highest point of the sun’s journey in the sky, Rey would laze around in (or, in one notable case, on top of) the Falcon, avoiding Poe and any work he would inevitably assign her. Rose would be off-world in her increasingly ambassadorial role for the Resistance—conferring with politicians to help build the New Galactic Republic—and Jannah and Finn would be busy tracking down and reuniting former Troopers with their families. Rey had fulfilled her purpose, the Sith defeated, at great cost to the Jedi Order, of whom Rey was the only surviving member. She recalled Luke’s words, it would be vanity to believe the Light would disappear if the Order ceased to exist. She would have to kindle the spark in future generations, yet a hollowness had found a home in her heart ever since she had left Exegol.

Snoke was a looming shadow in her mind, a threat she had to deal with as soon as possible, yet Luke had her meditating and training in the various lightsaber forms.

A flick of gloved fingers and a bisected alien corpse danced across her mind’s eye.

She and Ben certainly hadn’t needed Form VI to take down Snoke or his red guards, she mused darkly. The thrill of the fight had been exhilarating—more stimulating than the slow arcs and positions Pela Meer had her training in.

She wondered where Snoke was at this very moment. It was difficult to come by news since the Praxeum wasn’t wired to the HoloNet, but Rey was certain the stirrings of dissent and dogma of hatred were already being spread across the galaxy, eventually forming the basis of the First Order. Rey needed to find and speak to Leia soon to decapitate the head of that beast before it could take root. She was also desperate to find and rescue Finn, Jannah, and the others trapped as Troopers for the First Order.

Her gaze fell on Ben who helped a youngling with their stance, his voice gentle and a small smile on his lips. All her efforts would be for naught if he fell to the dark again. She had to cut the puppet master’s strings first.

“Are you listening?” Ben’s weary voice broke through her planning.

“Yes,” Rey lied. Pela smirked but was not offended as she demonstrated the maneuver again.

“So, you’ve seen all the Forms now,” Pela informed her as she clipped her saber to her belt. The younglings bowed to her before skipping off to enjoy their free time. “Which one did you like best?” Rey didn’t realize she had to bow and it was too late to do so. Instead, she nodded her head awkwardly, her gaze on the practice saber in her hand.

“I’m not sure, I didn’t really use Forms when I fought…before coming here.” She watched Ben as he stretched his arms over his head and behind his back, his tunic rising with the movement. A flash of skin and dusting of hair had her cheeks burning. When he felt her gaze on him through their Bond, she quickly turned her attention to Pela before he could catch her staring.

“Well you don’t have to commit to anything right now, but knowing your fighting preference could help us narrow things down,” Pela nodded at the saber in her hand. “First, I think we should pick a better saber. You’re definitely not comfortable with that.” She grinned at Rey’s expression.

Ben smirked. “Pela’s the unofficial weapons master for all the Padawans. She knows what’s right for everyone.” The last part sounded like an oft-repeated mantra around the Praxeum.

Pela’s mouth tilted into a smug satisfied smile. “You’re damn right I do. Now,” she unclipped her saber and ignited it, a brilliant sapphire blade erupting from the emitter. “Let’s see if I can diagnose the problem.”

It was instinct that Rey was able to bring up her saber to block the blow as Pela lunged forward. Pela must have adjusted her saber settings, otherwise she would have sliced right through the training saber. Rey gave ground, backpedalling to gain her bearings and balance. She was beginning to doubt the weapons master was human as she moved with a speed and grace that was alarming. Rey was reminded of the old folktales on Jakku, of deadly creatures that moved like the wind over the desert, lightning-quick whispers that did not disturb a single grain of sand.

Their spar carried them across the training fields, attracting spectators who stood on the sidelines with Ben who watched Rey’s every movement. A petty part of her was annoyed that he was cataloguing her moves to potentially use against her in their next fight while she only had her memories of his (very different) erratic style. Rey pushed back against Pela's next attack, a quick block before she thrust her saber forward, forcing the other woman back before Rey swung in a wide arc at her shoulder. Pela powered down her saber and sidestepped the blow, but Rey stumbled with the momentum and force of her failed attack. She quickly found her footing and gaped at Pela—she could have taken her head off!

Pela nodded, almost to herself, as if confirming her suspicions. “Staff,” was all she said before walking off the fields.

Rey powered down her saber, sparing a confused glance at Ben and the other Padawans before quickly sprinting after the weapons master who rummaged through the racks by the wall. “Ha!” She announced triumphantly as she presented Rey with a training saber similar to the one she had seen on Master Kestis’s hip. “Let’s give that a try.” She smirked when Rey accepted the saber with a confident smile. “Solo! You’re up,” she called over Rey’s shoulder.

Rey strolled back to the center of the training fields, shedding the outer layers of her Padawan outfit as Ben dogged her steps from a safe distance. She could feel his hunger—his desire—as he watched her toss the layers aside. She ignited the saberstaff, twin shafts of emerald hummed in the sunlight. She twirled the staff with a confidence she hadn’t felt in a long while. When she had used the Skywalker saber, it had always felt bulky and awkward in her hands, too short to allow her the freedom of movements she had taught herself on Jakku and grown accustomed to when defending herself. Leia’s saber had been the same; Kylo’s saber was alive in a way that had frightened her, seeming to pull her in every direction at once, ignoring the intent of her movements, almost fighting against her.

Ben stood opposite her, his knees slightly bent as he readied himself. Rey took in his foreign fighting stance, so different from the other times she had battled him. His saber wasn’t even ignited and that infuriated her. How could their roles have switched so dramatically? Was this some sad joke from the Force? That she would be volatile and unable to control her emotions while he stood stoically? Something truly terrible must have happened to the Ben Solo from her timeline to have fractured him so intensely that he mirrored his own kyber crystal.

She exhaled her dark thoughts and distracting emotions.

There is no emotion, there is peace, a thousand voices whispered through the Force.

Rey opened her eyes to see Ben’s blue saber ignited and at the ready. She cycled through her memory of Pela’s lessons and noted that he was using Form IV. Rey readied herself and trusted that the Force would decide which Form she should use.

She lunged forward, taking the initiative in the fight, forcing Ben back with the wide arching strikes of her saberstaff. He dodged where he could and parried little, unwilling to meet her blows lest she catch him with the other end of her staff. When he finally began to fight back, Rey bared her teeth in a feral smile. While he was still controlled, she felt the power behind every blow, bringing him closer to the man she knew how to fight (into a stalemate). They seemed to dance around the field, the sun bearing down on them, but they did not tire despite the sweat that ran down their faces.

A whistle off to the side distracted her for a moment before a green saber swung in her direction. A Twi’lek male had joined the fray and she had to leap backwards to avoid a coordinated attack from the both of them, the Force aiding her jump. Another male walked along the edge of their spar, a Kiffar with an orange blade. She knew he would join the fight when there was an opening. In her periphery she noted a female and male Mirialan readying their own sabers. Kark. Rey had never had to fight multiple Force users before. Whenever the Knights of Ren would inevitably turn up, Kylo would rage at them, warning them not to interfere in their fight.

Pela stood on the sidelines, her arms crossed as she assessed Rey. She’d get no help from the weapons master in this. In her past, Rey might have felt a creeping trepidation at the prospect of fending off multiple opponents with only the Skywalker saber—but all she felt in that moment was confidence, her staff a familiar weight in her hands that afforded her a longer reach and better protection. She knew then she could handle them and beckoned them all forward with a smile and a wave of her hand, her grip in the Force weakened from the cuffs, but strong enough to make the Mirialans stumble and lift the Kiffar off his feet.

Ben sprinted forward with the Twi’lek before aiming a strike at her thigh while the other went for her head. Rey blocked both, shoving them backward before twisting her saber to maintain the distance. The Mirialans and Kiffar had recovered and joined their comrades, coming at Rey’s back. She twisted to face them while also keeping Ben and the other in her sights, unwilling to allow them to surround her. The Mirialan woman feigned a swipe at her stomach while the male swung at Rey’s legs, the black cloth and drapery of their clothing masking their movements. The adrenaline coursing through her body had delayed her brain from reacting to the white-hot burn blooming on her shin. They had adjusted their saber power to the lowest setting, but even that felt like a blaster burn. She blinked back sweat—or perhaps tears—as she battled the group, her heart thundering against her chest, survival instinct driving her actions.

The first to go down was the Kiffar as she disarmed him before using the Force to shove him away—though she winced when he landed twenty feet away with a heavy thud and a pained groan. She had to remember this was a spar, not a true life-or-death battle. The Mirialans were relentless in their efforts to disorient her, attacking different points of her body and forcing her into awkward blocks when one or both blows would reach their target. She felt an anger rise up through her body, her chest welling with some dark power. Do it, the sinister voice again. The cuffs seemed to burn her wrists. When she raised her saber to block the Twi’lek, Ben seized the opportunity to swing at her. Rey held out her free hand and used the Force to block his blow and shove the Mirialans back. Despite the sweat that stung her eyes, she could have sworn there were sparks along her fingertips.

A ship in the sky exploded in a flash of lightning—

Ben’s brown eyes widened slightly but backed off quickly before she could take his head off with her saber after she twisted free from the Twi’lek. She focused on taking him out, first unbalancing him by pulling his leg with the Force before disarming him. The Mirialans redoubled their efforts but Rey knew their pattern at this point, at the cost of numerous burns along her exposed, sweaty skin. She danced around the pair, weaving between them like the wind flowing between the gutted corpses of Star Destroyers in the Jakku desert.

She dug one end of her staff into the ground in a quick semi-circle, burning the grass and dirt and kicking up a cloud to keep Ben back as she focused on the Mirialans. Stepping back, she held her saber out horizontally before lunging forward, forcing them to raise their own sabers to block. At the last moment, she twisted her saber in a dipping motion, catching first the male’s saber (and burning his hand) and then the female’s. Their weapons clattered to the ground harmlessly, blades no longer ignited. They exchanged a look before raising their hands in surrender, sinking onto the ground. Rey gave them a satisfied nod, turning her attention to Ben—always it came down to the two of them. She was breathless and sore, but she had to end the spar with dignity.

Ben was bigger than her and Kylo had often thought brute strength would be enough to best her, but Rey would flit around him like a bird, utilizing his size against him until he tired. She attempted the same strategy, despite the fact that she was nearing exhaustion as well. When she tapped into the Force, she felt him there…the strange Bond connecting them had created a loop of emotions and energies as they fed off each other, like parasites.

But she could also feel him struggle to rein in his darker tendencies, to remain centered and at peace—Rey thought back to Luke and Leia’s tutelage and projected her own serenity into the Force.

I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.

Be with me, Rey’s own voice seemed to whisper across the Bond.

Ben’s shoulders had lost some of the stiffness as he relaxed, and Rey was shocked when she felt him lend her his strength and energy. Not parasites, she realized—partners.

Ben came in close, unafraid of her saberstaff and negating its advantage as he crowded her space, utilizing short swipes and stabs of his saber before she elbowed him to escape, slashing a wide arc with her saber for safe measure. They traded more blows until both Rey and Ben were breathing too heavily to continue, lightsaber dipping, her arms shaking from overuse as she strained her muscles.

Pela whistled from the sidelines. Ben stepped out of his fighting stance and powered off his saber and Rey followed suit a heartbeat later.

“You have very bony elbows,” Ben grumbled breathlessly, rubbing his rib as he clipped his saber to his belt, his brown tunic dark around the collar and under his arms, damp with sweat.

“Jar’Kai,” Pela said simply as she approached the pair. “Favored by Masters Kestis and Tano. Not one of the Forms I taught you, but you gravitated to it with ease.”

“But how could I use Jar’Kai when you didn’t show it to me?”

Ben answered before Pela could, his chest rising and falling as he worked to catch his breath. “It’s used best with saberstaffs or Jedi who wield two sabers. It was probably instinct guiding you to it.”

“Good for controlling a crowd and keeping enemies at bay,” Pela continued, nodding at the other Padawans who lay around the field in tired heaps. She pointed at each Padawan, introducing them to Rey. “The Mirialan twins over there are Lorrik and Lorna Fayn. That Kiffar is Quis Tor, and the Twi’lek is Tak Orzo. All right you lazy banthas, either get to the ’freshers or the lake, but you need to get off my field before the younglings come back from lunch.”

Rey wanted to collapse on the field until tomorrow and recuperate, but the idea of throwing herself into the lake seemed more appealing. She hadn’t come across it in the lone instance she had escaped the Praxeum, but resolved to find it, the glittering lake of Maz’s Castle sparkled like stars in her memory.

Pela turned back to the pair. “Impressive sparring, both of you.” There was something in her tone that gave Rey pause and it was only through the Force guiding her gaze did she spot Luke on a balcony overlooking the fields. A bearded man stood beside him, but Rey didn’t recognize him. From this distance, she couldn’t tell Skywalker’s expression, only that it was dark.

“For someone with only a few months’ training, she’s remarkably adept with the Force,” Luke spoke softly, his voice carrying across the room. “The ysalamiri cuffs might as well be decorative.”

“You think she’s a Nightsister?” Ezra asked from the couch, his hand idly scratching the Loth-cat’s head. It purred like a ship engine, its eyes shut contentedly.

Cal shook his head, crossing his arms. “Merrin’s sure she’s the last.”

“So if these visions of hers aren’t magick—”

“It’s not uncommon for the Force to grant visions to its users,” Luke cut Ezra off, turning his back to the pair as he gazed out the window towards the training ground where a group of younglings were now practicing their Forms. One—Korith—tripped over his foot before he was able to catch himself but did not hit the dirt face-first. Korith looked around in astonishment and Luke almost smiled as he lowered his hand, allowing his hold of the Force around the youngling to dissipate when he was safely on his feet again.

“But never absolute,” Ezra spoke softly, almost lost in thought. “Possibilities. More metaphorical and symbolic,” he waved his free hand dismissively. Ezra did not welcome visions of fate.

Luke’s mood was like a cloud blotting out the Tatooine suns as he thought of his father and the visions of the ‘future’ the Force had granted him, to disastrous effect. He thought of his own visions in the cave on Dagobah. Ezra shifted, more keenly attuned to Luke’s emotions through the Force than Cal. He scratched the scars on his cheek, half-hidden by his beard, before carrying on. “From what Cal’s explained, Rey’s visions seem to appear in perfect clarity?”

“They’re not visions,” Cal stood suddenly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “They were her memories, a life she’s lived—how can she have known Ben and the others when they’d only met just last week?”

Luke and Ezra were silent as they tried to rationalize the impossible.

“She also told me she thinks she possesses psychometry,” Cal carried on, sinking into a chair. “And I’m inclined to agree.” Both Ezra and Luke focused their attention on the older Jedi. “She was evasive when I first explained my ability to her and in her Force echo I saw her read a lightsaber…” he paused to catch Luke’s eye, “Your father’s saber.”

Luke felt a stone drop in his stomach, as though the floor had suddenly disappeared beneath his feet and he fell into a yawning chasm. That was impossible, Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber was locked away in a chest where no one would find it. He had the only key and—when he glanced at Ezra after feeling his concern through the Force—one of the only people who knew where it was.

“Her memories were so chaotic,” Cal put his hand on his head, as though plagued with a migraine. “A mix of dark and light—battles and visions of her own. She used the Skywalker saber, but I also saw her wield a red double-bladed saber…”

After her display of prowess earlier with a saberstaff, Luke’s thoughts turned dark.

“Maybe she’s like the Bendu—walking the middle path.” Ezra’s voice was soft as he retreated into his memory.

“A gray Jedi,” Luke considered his words. “Seems a little too keen on violence to be a neutral user.”

“Besides Pela’s sparring, she’s only attacked Ben—which is understandable.” Ezra smiled when Luke smirked sardonically at that. “Besides, aren’t we all prone to a little violence?” Luke felt his guilt across their Bond. “The Force exists in all of us as a delicate balance that we have to maintain; but we never solely belong to the light or the dark. An object doesn’t make you good or evil. I wouldn’t condemn the girl based on a vision of her with a red saber.”

Luke thought of what Cal had told him after his meeting with Rey; of Ben wielding a Sith weapon. When he looked at Ezra, he recalled that even he had been in possession of a Sith artifact for a short time in his youth.

Cal paced. “But these…images were real—not visions. As impossible as it sounds, Luke, she’s entangled in the Force. She’s…”

“Not from this time,” Luke sighed heavily.

Ezra stood abruptly and the Loth-cat hissed in protest. “But, how—the World Between Worlds?”

Cal shook his head. “Ahsoka questioned her about it but she didn’t seem to know what she was alluding to.”

“Or she was lying,” Luke snapped with enough venom that Ezra put a calming hand on his shoulder.

“What reason would she have to lie if she’s not a Sith or an Inquisitor?” Ezra wondered aloud.

“A dark future,” Cal murmured. “Luke appeared older. You and I—Ahsoka and the other masters, Jacen and the other Padawans—did not appear in her memories.”

Luke realized the chasm beneath his feet had become a black hole. His family, his students, all gone or worse? He could not—would not allow such a future to pass. But, wouldn’t Rey’s presence here already mean that he had failed?

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Ezra’s voice was hoarse. “It could be she never met us,” he reasoned, his tone even—though Luke knew him well enough by now to tell he was masking real panic.

Cal’s cheek twitched as he inhaled harshly, suddenly on his feet. “Neither of you know what it’s like! To experience true terror and pain, as your f-friends gun you down on someone else’s orders. A genocide.”

Luke was speechless as Cal’s voice wobbled dangerously. He had never seen Cal lose control of himself. He had grown pale, the scars on his face and neck stood out in stark contrast.

They knew of loss and grief, the three of them—broken and lost Padawans who had suffered the helpless injustice of witnessing their masters sacrifice themselves so they could live on, each believing they were the last Jedi in the galaxy.

“You never lived through the fall of an entire Order, so you can’t rationalize a terrible, dark future where the Sith rise and the Jedi topple like towers of sand during high tide.” He collapsed onto the chair, head in his hands. “It’s happened before, it could—it will—happen again. It would explain her memories and the fact that she’s strong in the Force but lacks formal training.” He scoffs then, a bitter broken thing. “You can rest easy, Luke, knowing at least you, Ben, and Leia make it out of whatever catastrophe is coming.”

Ezra looked at his boots, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Luke knelt before Cal and put his human hand on his knee. “You’re right, we can’t know what it was like—Ezra and I were only days old while the Jedi were betrayed and hunted across the galaxy. But we’ve been given a gift from the Force: a vision of our future in the form of that girl. We know what’s coming. We won’t be caught off-guard like the Jedi of the Galactic Republic. I promise you, Cal.”

Luke poured ever ounce of his determination into that statement. “We must trust in the Force,” he continued, echoing Cal’s oft-uttered mantra to calm him. There would not be another purge. And if Ben was the spark, then Luke would smother that flame before it burned their new order down. A familiar feeling rose up in him, one he had not felt since he had battled his father on the second Death Star—victory in his grasp if only he…Luke clenched his mechno-hand as he contemplated the future.

Chapter 5: The Dyad

Chapter Text

Rey was having a nightmare.

The shadowed silhouette of Snoke stood before a kneeling man, until Snoke morphed into another taller creature with a looming and suffocating presence. The scene melted before her rapidly, from a red throne room to the Praxeum in flames, to an unfamiliar room filled with smoke, a breathing modulator the only sound. It took her a few terrorizing minutes to realize that this was Ben’s nightmare. The hooded creature stood overlooking an unfamiliar cityscape, a monolithic temple burning in the distance. “Come to me, my apprentice, find me and rise…” its voice like two lightsabers scratching together thundered through the nightmare. When the creature turned, Rey recoiled, its six eyes filled with malice. A lightsaber ignited, its red light a stable hum as it cut through the smoke to the kneeling man—Ben.

She woke, covered in sweat and tangled in her sheets, her heart pounding painfully against her chest, her skin burning. Tossing the sheet aside, she all but sprinted across the Praxeum, following their Bond to his room. The stone floors of the Praxeum were rough against her bare feet—in the back of her mind she laughed at the symmetry; dressed in sleepwear and barefoot as she ran to find the other half of her soul in the Force.

The dyad rises…an unfamiliar and menacing voice whispered through the Force and Rey was momentarily frozen with fear.

Ben’s signature burned and crackled with energy like Kylo’s saber and Rey continued down the hall, bursting through the door to rouse him from his nightmare. It would be many hours later that the scavenger in her would question why he kept his door unlocked while he slept, but in that moment she stood in the doorway, catching her breath as Ben sat up with a gasp. He curled in on himself, head in his hands, sheet pooled in his lap, his bare chest dotted with sweat.

Rey stepped forward hesitantly until she was close enough that his strong arms immediately wrapped around her, his hands pressing into her back as she cradled his head against her stomach.

She twined her fingers into his messy black hair and poured calm into their Bond, wishing she could heal the unseen wounds in his mind. “You’re all right, Ben,” she repeated in a murmur to the dark room until his shallow breaths evened out. He pressed his forehead against the hardened muscles of her stomach but did not yet let her go.

It was only after she could feel the younglings’ agitation through the Force—with Ben at the center of their turmoil—that she pulled back. “We should go somewhere,” she whispered and Ben finally released her.

“I know a place, come on,” he mumbled into the darkened room. He grabbed an item bundled in cloth from his side-table before taking her hand to lead her along another path through the Praxeum.

You’re afraid…

She could feel his crippling fear like a vice around her heart, but she did not break the spell of silence that blanketed them.

Rey followed Ben as they trekked through the jungle until they reached the lake. At the center was a shelf of rock where a circle of six stones jut out of it, angled towards each other like an incomplete pyramid. She wasn’t sure if it was a natural formation or a creation of the Jedi from eons past. Ben led her across the lake on stepping stones that were hidden just beneath the surface. She walked carefully, the stone slippery beneath her bare feet. Pausing in the middle of the stone path, Rey wiggled her toes in the cool water as it undulated gently over her feet, a small smile on her lips. No matter how many planets she had visited with the Resistance, she was still fascinated by water—especially ’freshers, she certainly would not lament the sand baths she used to take on Jakku. She looked up, inhaling the crisp night air deeply and, in the distance, she could see more stone circles atop a mountain.

Ben waited for her on the raised stone and held his hand out to help her when she was close enough.

Please, his voice imploring, his gloved hand outstretched.

This time she took it, his bare palm soft against her fingers, the night air a cool contrast to the burning throne room that had warmed her cheeks.

In the middle of the stone platform was a boulder inscribed with runes in a language Rey did not recognize. The Force seemed to hum around it and Rey was wary of touching it. Thankfully, Ben motioned for her to join him in front of the stone where he knelt. Rey’s breath caught and she wanted nothing more than to drag him off his knees.

She sunk down to sit, crossing her legs, and it took Ben only a moment before he mirrored her pose. Rey avoided staring directly at him, keeping him in her periphery as she observed the sights and sounds around the lake. A few aquatic creatures breached the surface to spew water or catch insects hovering above the lake before disappearing beneath the light chop.

“Luke would counsel me to meditate on my…dreams.” Ben’s voice was low but she caught his words.

The six-eyed creature stood stark in her mind’s eye and she shivered.

“I think I’ve had my fill of meditation,” Rey grumbled, smiling only when he chuckled.

“All right…” Silence hung between them like the Skywalker saber suspended in the Force. “We could sit and…”

“Talk?” She smirked at his cowed expression. “I thought you didn’t need to talk to anyone.”

Rey was content to sit in silence, leaning back to track the movement of the moons across the starry night sky. Her hair, loose from sleep, fell backward over her shoulders, the tips tickling the back of her hands. It seemed like hours before Ben spoke again.

“This…” He pulled out something from his pocket and Rey stiffened at the sight of Kylo’s saber. “It’s…mine isn’t it?”

While she wondered when and how he had pilfered it from Luke’s possession, Rey’s grim face had given him his answer and he scoffed, shaking his head.

“I feel the crystal inside calling to me—it’s my kyber but it’s…older.” His voice was weary before he held out his hand. He floated the saber between them for a moment before the parts came away like a slow-moving explosion. Rey watched, transfixed. She had never seen the inside of a lightsaber before, nor did she realize there were so many components. The deconstruction was not violent, but beautiful, like a dance as each piece peeled apart and rotated, revealing the prize within. The kyber hung in the air as the parts slowly circled it like a system of planets around a red sun.

“Cracked beneath the weight of so much suffering and hatred.” He wouldn’t look at Rey, but she felt his shame across their Bond. “The kyber is the heart of the lightsaber—a reflection of its Jedi. What does this one say about me?”

You’re afraid, her own voice echoed again, melancholic.

Another anguished voice cried out in her mind, I couldn’t save him—I could have helped him, I know it! It sounded like Master Kestis.

There is good in him, an unfamiliar woman’s weakened words melded with another, I can save him…I can turn him back…I have to try. A chill washed over Rey as she recognized Luke’s voice.

Rey steeled herself; she could not bring Kylo Ren back to the light in the future, but the Force had sent her back to save Ben Solo before he falls. Master Skywalker had failed—she had to try.

“You will never be Darth Vader,” Rey found herself speaking, straightening her back, her spine stiff as she felt Ben’s spike of anger directed at her words, his confusion as to how she knew his connection to Vader. “Hatred comes at too high a cost, Ben,” she whispered quietly into the night. “But suffering can be healed, wounds mended and new memories forged. You’re not alone.”

He shifted, straightening his back and finally looked at her, his eyes dark and doleful. “There’s something in the Force that draws me to you.”

“Against your better judgement, I’m sure.” She kept her tone light and playful, but his gaze fell on the kyber that cast a red reflection in his eyes.

“I want to understand how you have my kyber…why the Force sent you here—why it brought us together even before…”

It is you, he’d whispered that first night.

“You should speak to your uncle,” Rey hedged, picking at the dirt beneath her thumbnail, her hair sweeping forward to shadow her face.

Ben made a sound deep in his chest like rumbling thunder. The components shuddered, their floating revolution hitching ever so slightly before resuming their peaceful path. “Not this again. I want to know why I knew you before I met you, why I can feel you in the Force!”

Rey’s head shot up and his mouth snapped shut, his ears scarlet. He focused on the components, willing them into a slow descent where they clinked lightly against the rocky platform. He pulled the kyber out of the air and rolled the rough crystal between his thumb and forefinger before pocketing it with a sigh.

She plucked a component from beside her knee—a piece that had been one of the exhaust ports. Rey’s hair fell forward again and she swept it aside with a huff. Ben’s hand reached out before he held himself still suddenly. She looked at him questioningly.

“May I?” he murmured, his gaze on her hair.

Curious, she nodded, and he gestured for her to sit before him, his hands gently adjusting her shoulders so her back was to him.

Ben gathered her hair over her shoulder like a silky drape. She hadn’t realized how long it had gotten in her old life, only that the buns she had tied it into nearly every day had grown more bulbous and heavier with each passing month. She wrapped her arms around her knees and thought of Ben’s future, how they had to find and eliminate Snoke—and that mysterious six-eyed creature—before he was too far gone. She gazed at the stars dotting the night sky and concluded that she had to get off-planet first.

Rey felt his fingers run through her tresses in delicate combing motions, finding small knots and gently untangling them. She had never put any thought to caring for her hair, even after joining the Resistance. As long as it was out of the way, Rey was content to ignore it.

“You shoulder a heavy burden,” she spoke into her arms, but when his fingers hesitated for a moment, she knew he heard her. Rey couldn’t pretend she knew what he had gone through—what he will go through—but, like his lineage, the future of the Jedi was a weight she had not asked for, especially after Master Skywalker’s sacrifice. “Children of great houses can be pushed to the brink—all because of legacy. But what matters isn’t a person’s blood or background, it’s their actions and how they choose to be remembered, not just for their family name.”

Ben was silent for a while after that, separating her hair into more easily manageable sections.

“In some cultures, braiding one’s hair is a sacred ritual.” His voice was soft as the pool of moonslight they sat in. “The meanings shift or are lost over time, but the act remains the same.”

Actions over legacy.

Rey thought of Leia’s beautifully complex braids and her lips tugged into a small smile when she realized she must have taught her son.

As he wove her hair with mesmerizing movements, she could feel his calm in the Force, the repetitive task soothing his irritation—but she could also sense his frustration. He wanted to know about their connection, how she knew him, his fate, and his fears and desires. His fingers were dexterous with skill that spoke of years of experience, twisting and forming the braid like a crown around her head. When he was done, he rested his large hands on her shoulder, his palms warm as he squeezed lightly to indicate she could turn back around. When she pulled away she could feel his disappointment in the Force.

She inhaled deeply, it couldn’t be helped. Whatever excuse she came up with would not explain their connection, and he would feel her lie in the Force. “I think we’re…a dyad in the Force.”

“Oh,” he breathed, his gaze unfocused as he processed her words. Then, after a beat, “What’s that?”

Rey laughed—of all his possible reactions, she had not anticipated that. “I have no idea,” she gasped through her laughter. She had never heard the term before tonight, the word echoing through the Force as it guided her to the answer.

He smiled, another genuine one. “I guess we’ll find out together.”

Luke groaned as he sat up in bed, running his hand over his face. It had been another rough night, his own terrors compounded by Ben’s nightmares. Through the night, his body had occasionally shuddered, minute tremors from the memory of Force lightning coursing through it, even two decades later. Ezra had sat up with him and soothed his aches, his fingers feather light as they traced the white scars that spiderwebbed across his body.

The native fauna trilled and sang in the morning air before even the sun had risen. The Praxeum was still and quiet, the younglings and older Padawans, tired after a full day of training, lectures, and a restless night, were hungry for sleep—a rare luxury for Luke Skywalker. He contemplated the visions from the night before, his flesh hand idly running through Ezra’s thick hair. It was long enough these days that he could tie it back, though he chose not to, the movements aborted more than once when he realized what the end result would look like. Ezra had spoken of his Master, Hera’s husband, on more than one occasion, but never for very long, the stories too painful to recount. As he drooled into his pillow, Luke smiled softly. He would let him sleep in, especially with a long journey ahead of him. Luke pulled on a dark blue tunic and robes before quietly departing their room in search of Rey—and Ben—it was time they talked.

He was not surprised to find them together, but he did raise an eyebrow at where he found them—asleep by the seeing stone in the middle of the lake. Luke was not a stringent follower of the old Order’s tenets against relationships, though he was surprised that Rey, who had been nothing but vitriolic toward his nephew for the last three weeks, was now asleep beside him, their signatures as calm and still as the lake. At least they weren’t fighting again.

Unwilling to get his boots wet, Luke stood at the shore and reached out with the Force to touch Ben’s mind. His nephew’s signature seemed to jolt at the rude awakening before he sat up abruptly, twisting around on the rock to find Luke. He stilled when he spotted him but Ben was too far away for Luke to read his expression. If he was anything like Han after being caught in a compromising position, Luke could imagine his sheepish face.

Both of you, pack a bag and meet me and Ezra in the hangar before noon, he projected through the Force. When he felt Ben’s shame and panic he chuckled. Relax kid, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. You’re going with her to Jedha.

He had continued on his morning walk, his hood up and his cloak wrapped around him to ward off the morning chill. Eventually, he was joined by R2 who went on his (daily) morning tirade about how unnecessary it was for organics to wake up so early, it’s not like they needed to run diagnostics or maintenance checks! Luke merely chuckled before wiggling his gloved fingers at the droid who rotated his dome and made a decompressed noise like a huff. Luke liked to make the rounds and ensure all was well around the Praxeum and, ever since Rey’s arrival, the old temple. Despite their isolation and lack of technology, he and Cal had rigged up some rudimentary sensors around the perimeter that would send any warnings to one of the old ships in the hangar. That same ship was one R2 frequented to broadcast long (sometimes rude) conversations with 3PO who was with Leia. Luke reached out across the light-years to touch his twin’s mind to ensure all was well. Despite it being the middle of the night cycle on Chandrila, she was still wide awake—likely going over the latest legislation draft from the senate—but he withdrew, leaving her to work without interruption. Two hours into his walk, he could feel his students’ signatures stir in the Force as they awoke to start their day. Luke headed back to the Praxeum with purposeful steps. He reached out to Ezra through their Bond to explain his plan.

The hangar was a flurry of activity as another transport was being loaded up, supervised by Masters Tisar and Lorith who had volunteered to chaperon the forty younglings and Padawans (including Jacen) who wished to see their families for a few days. Normally, Ezra would have taken them, but his unexpected early return to Jedha, and Ahsoka’s sudden departure to Lothal, had left them understaffed. With Omaall, Mursea, and Hiveth away making contact with potential students across the galaxy, only Luke and Cal remained to look after nearly a hundred students. It would be hell reining the younglings in, but Luke would endeavor to enlist the senior Padawans who remained to keep them in check.

His lips twisted into a half-smile as he mused on the early days of the Praxeum, when he and Cal had only a handful of students—before they had utilized Cal’s holocron to find more children and before Ahsoka later arrived with Ezra in tow after years of searching for him. Even then, they had been no better than senior Padawans looking after five younglings, with Ahsoka taking charge of the major elements of the curriculum and training. Luke, Cal, and Ezra had been Padawans alongside the younglings more often than not. Cal’s mentor, Cere, had dropped by from time to time, but had staunchly refused a post as Master, citing her past. While Luke knew Order 66 had been a painful experience for the Jedi who had survived it, he could not fathom ever cutting himself off from the Force completely as Cere had, especially after failing one’s Padawan. Luke believed there was nothing more important than forging a new path with a student, learning from one’s mistakes in order to avoid future failures. Despite her refusal to teach, Cere had been gracious enough to record a few holocron lectures, mostly focused on theory and history.

With Cere in a consulting role, Luke who had trained (very briefly) under Ben and Master Yoda, and Ezra, who was mostly self-taught after his Master had died, it was Ahsoka who had more experience than all of them simply by virtue of having been a Commander during the Clone Wars and a Padawan at the height of the Jedi Order—with Cal coming in a close second. Her Master, having been Luke’s father—his chest still felt tight even years after knowing the fact—certainly tipped the scales in her favor. She had many lessons to impart, spouting tales and wisdom from Masters Kenobi and Yoda as well as other Jedi she knew from her youth. Despite the bittersweet joy it brought her to recount the stories, they had always left her weary and Luke could feel the gaping chasm of her pain in the Force, the ghosts of her friends and mentors still a raw wound even years later. She, Cal, and Cere had never returned to the Temple on Coruscant and Luke and Ezra had never ventured there, especially with Kenobi’s beacon broadcasting endlessly across the galaxy, even decades later. Luke would sometimes wonder, fruitlessly, why the Emperor had never shut down the message.

“Trust in the Force. Do not return to the Temple, that time has passed,” Kenobi had counseled, Luke’s heart in his throat when Ezra had shown him the holocron with the message—a holo of a younger Ben, who was no less haggard than the old man he’d known on Tatooine. Ben had been right. There was nothing to find buried in the ruins of the past; the Praxeum and their shared philosophy was focused on the future and on something new.

“Poor timing,” Ezra complained (again) as he loaded up the ship he had so recently unloaded. “Can’t she wait for the next batch of younglings?” Ezra’s annoyance shook Luke out of his meandering thoughts—brooding, Leia’s voice in his head corrected.

Luke had shaken his head. Even after two decades of teaching filled with self-doubt and uncertainty, this decision was clear. “She’s ready now, and the Force is…humming with this decision.”

“Mhm,” Ezra didn’t sound convinced. “Couldn’t have hummed after Family Week?”

R2 beeped his agreement—and a few other choice words that Luke would have reprimanded, if any of the younglings had been within earshot.

Luke huffed fondly but helped Ezra with the next crate of provisions, carrying one and floating two ahead of him. Three adult humans did not need to consume as much as ten or twelve younglings of various races, but the journey was still a long one; four days in hyperspace, followed by at least three days on Jedha—depending on how quickly Rey would find her crystal—topped off with another four days to return. Assuming nothing went wrong and threw a hydrospanner into their plans.

As they descended the ramp, Luke felt his nephew’s signature—so entangled with Rey’s it was difficult to differentiate them in the Force if he wasn’t looking right at them as they entered the hangar. Two separate physical beings whose Force signatures were nearly identical—it was the strangest anomaly he had ever witnessed and the Force, as well as his old masters, were not forthcoming with an explanation. Though he had searched his feelings and known it to be untrue, he had wondered if Han and Leia had somehow had a secret child without his knowledge.

Luke’s gaze lingered on Rey’s hair before giving Ben a pointed look. His nephew gazed off in another direction entirely, studiously avoiding Luke’s eye. “Ben will accompany you and Ezra to Jedha to retrieve your kyber crystal,” he said without preamble.

Rey bristled. “I don’t need a babysitter!”

Luke nodded, hands in his sleeves. “Jedha is a dangerous place these days, never know what you might encounter,” he reasoned innocently, ignoring the way R2 tittered beside him.

She scoffed at that. “I don’t need his protection, either.”

“Oh I don’t doubt that,” Ezra chuckled to diffuse the tension, leaning against the ramp strut.

“How do you know I’m not sending him along for his sparkling conversational skills?” Luke felt his irritation rise and Ezra’s efforts to calm him.

“You’re not that good a liar, Master Skywalker,” Rey laughed, ignorant of Ben’s offended expression behind her. Once they returned, Luke would know whether or not the endless hours of politicking and oration lectures from Leia had any effect on Rey.

Luke raised an eyebrow when Rey merely narrowed her eyes before sticking her hands out expectantly.

He held his hand out over hers and shut his eyes as he communed with the Force to release the cuffs. They fell from her chafed wrists but hovered in the air as Luke held them still in the Force.

Rey stumbled back half a step, gasping softly and both Luke and Ezra observed her reaction with interest—if she had been cut off from the Force completely, as the cuffs were intended to do, he would understand her being overwhelmed as it surged back into her—but she had still been able to access the Force with minimal issues, begging the question of just how strong her connection to the Force was.

Rey nodded but did not thank him as she hefted her pack over her shoulder. She boarded the ship in stubborn silence and Luke smirked, reminded of his many dealings with the Jawas on Tatooine—their transaction was over.

The Skywalker men watched her in silence and Luke sighed as he examined the ysalamiri cuffs in his hand, still warm from her skin. “Be safe,” he murmured to Ezra who sent a wave of warmth through their Bond.

“Always,” he assured him before following Rey, his Loth-cat at his heels, bouncing with excitement (and some kind of dead creature in its mouth).

The other transport’s engines were primed, a few stragglers ran into the hangar with a hastily packed bag and a piece of food from the refectory dangling between their teeth. Tisar made a note on the datapad as the Padawans ran up the ramp before meeting Luke’s eye and nodding—they were ready to depart.

Luke focused on his nephew.

“Did you ask your mother for permission before proposing to that girl?”

R2 beeped long and low, impressed that Ben was able to beat Han’s record, projecting a holo of Han and Leia’s wedding day before Ben shooed the image away.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Ben’s red ears and his spike of alarm in the Force indicated otherwise.

Luke hummed, unconvinced. He knew his nephew was not as ignorant as he would have him believe, nor was Leia so remiss in her duty in educating her son about Alderaanian customs—especially the importance and intimacy of matrimonial braids. “Be sure to keep an eye on your wife,” Luke enjoyed Ben’s sputtering. “I’d like Ezra back in one piece by the end of this.”

Ben mumbled a few choice phrases in Huttese (certainly borrowed from Han) before he snatched his weathered pack off the hangar floor, stomping up the ramp into the transport like a petulant youngling.

“Ben,” Luke stopped him. His nephew pivoted to face him, a long-suffering expression on his face that was eerily similar to Leia’s. “We have much to discuss when you return.”

Ben straightened at his words, all teasing between them gone as he nodded grimly.

Chapter 6: The Climb

Chapter Text

Rey was curious about Master Bridger. She had never met him in her old life nor had Luke ever mentioned him, yet their connection was obvious, the Force singing between them. She wondered if they shared the same Bond as her and Ben. He had been away from the Praxeum when she had first arrived and had not had the chance to meet her. He flashed her a dazzling smile as she made her way onto the transport.

“Rey,” he held out a hand. “Ezra Bridger.”

Overlapping voices and sounds made it difficult for Rey to pinpoint any single phrase or word; it was enough to give her a slight headache.

“Master Bridger,” she greeted instead, shaking his hand, her wince disguised as a smile when the noises, both human and animal, intensified at the contact. She would need to consult with Master Kestis about controlling her ability—psychometry, he had called it.

He chuckled at that. “Please, just Ezra. Why don’t you and Ben get settled in while I take us up.”

She nodded as she moved through the transport, up the cargo bay, past the galley, finding a spot for her pack in the lounge. The ship was old, but still space-worthy. There were questionable stains on the potolli-weave fabric of the lounge seating and various dents in the table and bulkhead, but Rey supposed that, when transporting a group of relatively unsupervised younglings, mishaps were likely to occur. Master Bridger didn’t seem the type to rein in the younglings with an iron fist. Strewn along the grated floor and table were numerous components gutted from various ship, droid, and tech parts, wires were half-soldered or jut out of circuitry boards, ends cut into jagged tips, abandoned amid the clutter.

“The younglings can be a bit messy,” Ben said as he entered the lounge, tossing his cloak into an alcove before hoisting up his pack. “I want to show you something.” He gestured to the table and they sat opposite each other, the plastoid seat was hard and cold beneath her, but she suppressed a shiver. The viewport over Ben’s shoulder revealed the greenery of the planet below as they rapidly ascended. Ben swept aside the clutter before reaching into his pack to retrieve a few items, setting them on the table. “I went back to the temple that night—found this near where you…landed.” Rey’s heart stuttered in her chest at the sight of her old quarterstaff from Jakku, broken into three pieces.

She hesitantly reached out for it, the grooves of metal and mismatched pieces familiar in her grip. Ben watched her intently. She could feel his anticipation through their Bond; his eagerness at having presented her with something worthy of her attention. “Usually, when a Jedi constructs their saber, they like to use components and parts from things that hold meaning in their life.” He seemed to sense her hesitation and melancholy and backpedalled, “But there are plenty of parts around the ship you can use if this isn’t something that you want to incorporate—”

“It is,” Rey whispered quickly, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Thank you.” These pieces did not constitute even half of her original staff’s length, but she treasured them all the same. She brought the ends of two pieces together, noting the break was a clean one and could be easily repaired with some soldering; the third that remained would have to be scrapped for another Padawan’s future lightsaber. She gently pushed the third piece aside, chastising herself for being irrationally emotional over a hunk of durasteel.

Ben’s gaze was pensive as he followed her movements. A few moments of silence were all that he allowed before upending a small sack from his pack, the parts of Kylo’s saber rolling and clattering along the table. He sighed heavily as he observed the pieces. “If there’s anything here you want to use, you’re welcome to it.”

“Don’t you need them?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I have a saber already.”

Rey’s cheeks burned—of course he did, how could she forget? He even had two crystals now for kriff's sake.

“Plenty of younglings that need parts for their sabers,” Ben justified as he swept the pieces aside into an existing pile of junk without a second glance. “They’ll need them more than I do.”

The transport jerked and shuddered and Rey felt a cold fear seize her, freezing her limbs in place, gripping the edge of the table with white-knuckled fingers. Would the ship dip into that black nothingness, shuddering as it broke apart again and she—

“All right?” Ben had noticed her reaction.

No, she wanted to say but there was a vice around her throat.

“Breaking atmo,” he explained gently before reaching out to take her hand.

She nodded stiffly and took it in quiet appreciation. She had to get ahold of herself, she was a kriffing pilot, and pilots don’t experience crippling terror when flying their ships. When the transport leveled out a few minutes later, Rey exhaled before rising. “Want some caf?"

He blinked at the sudden change in her demeanour, hesitating before nodding. “Let me show you where everything is.”

The galley storage was a nightmare; items were piled haphazardly and seemingly without any sense of order. Even while on the move from base to base, the Resistance galleys had never been this disorganized. Foodstuffs and sachets of dried goods stretched far into the back of the deep compartments where a questionable odor seemed to emanate. Ben moved with a surety that implied he either created the mess (unlikely, given Leia’s proclivity towards order), or was familiar enough with the younglings’ chaotic organization to know how to navigate it—like an asteroid field. Rey hoped Ben was a good pilot. It was still strange to observe him move with such fluidity and calm, a far cry from the erratic movements of Kylo Ren.

He waved the caf packets triumphantly and handed them to her as he maneuvered the cramped space to find three cups. “Water is the red button there—don’t ask why it’s not the blue one—and Ezra takes his with about twelve packs of sweetener.” He smirked as he dumped a number of packets on the durasteel countertop.

Rey smiled as she prepared Master Bridger’s drink first, Rose was the same. Poe took his caf without additives and as dark as possible, while Finn hated the stuff, mumbling about how the First Order officers often had him running caf to their meetings all over the Destroyer or upending the drink on his plastoid if it wasn’t to their liking.

Ben prepared his own drink and Rey found herself counting how many packets of sweetener he used—though she wasn’t sure why she cared to know his preference.

Five, the traitorous observant part of her supplied and she furiously pushed it down as she added only four packets to her own caf. She stirred just a little too aggressively, spilling a few drops of the dark liquid and adding to the pastiche of stains on the countertop. “I’ll take Master Bridger’s to the co*ckpit,” she volunteered quickly, eager to question him about his relationship with Master Skywalker, to unlock the secrets of whatever the kark a dyad was. She didn’t think Ben would be forthcoming (or knowledgable) about his Uncle’s love life. “Is there a datapad hooked up to the HoloNet I can use?”

Ben seemed surprised by her request. “Uh, yeah, I’ll grab mine and leave it in the lounge for you. It’s a long trip to Jedha, so try to get some rest while you can.”

“Sure.” She had no plans of resting when the future was at stake and she didn’t even have the faintest clue on how to change it. Almost four weeks in the past and she had no idea where Snoke or the First Order were operating out of. First a lightsaber, then Finn and Jannah, then she would tell Ben everything.

She held the two cups and they stood in awkward silence.

“co*ckpit’s through the lounge up the ramp to the left,” he added, almost flustered at having forgotten to direct her.

“Thanks,” she nodded before slipping past him, her boots silent against the grate flooring, her focus on not spilling the caf.

When she arrived in the co*ckpit—a small space with four mismatched seats crammed into it—Master Bridger had just engaged autopilot. He assigned the task of plotting their jump course to the droid that accompanied them on the transport, an R4 unit in a garish orange painted with purple handprints from various species.

A voice in the back of her mind whispered a single word over and over—a name just beyond her perception.

“Not a problem,” he was saying as she entered—he was in the middle of a transmission, she realized.

Rey hadn’t masked her approach, making as much noise as possible so as not to startle him—could someone even sneak up on Jedi?

“Jacen’ll probably reach you in two rotations, guess I’ll catch you, Sabine, and Zeb next time.”

An astromech beeped in the background of the transmission. “No one missed you anyway, Bridger.”

“C1-10P be nice,” a woman admonished.

He scoffed and was not offended by the rude droid. “Thanks, Chop.”

Master Bridger swiveled in he chair and accepted the caf with a grateful smile, sipping the steaming drink with a look of pure bliss. Rey hovered, unwilling to intrude on the call but he quickly motioned for her to take a seat in the co-pilot’s spot. She did so as quietly as she could.

The woman spoke again, “In any case, I might send Sabine out to check on Ahsoka and Poe—I’m tied up in the Mid Rim, the New Republic has its hands full with these Imp Remnants.”

“Still?” He sounded more annoyed than concerned. “If they’re giving you trouble you can call us, I know Luke is itching for another dogfight and I wouldn’t mind another crack in an X-wing.”

“The New Republic fleet needs pilots who can actually fly,” the droid sniped and Rey hid a smile behind her cup.

“Ha ha,” Master Bridger intoned sarcastically. “Maybe I could even take the Ghost off your hands for a while, Hera. You deserve a vacation.”

This time the woman laughed. Rey felt her stomach drop, as though the safety cord she used while scrapping Star Destroyers had snapped as she put together the information, sending her plummeting—Jacen’s last name and this woman’s first, the ship…

“General Syndulla?” She winced at her rude (and loud) interruption.

“Who’s that?” Hera asked at the same time the droid began loudly ranting that it had been karking years since anyone karking called her that and that it was about karking time they respect her again.

Rey winced at the droid’s language before risking a glance at Master Bridger who was watching her intently. “New Padawan, taking her and Ben to Jedha,” he told Hera, his eyes still on Rey who averted her own.

The voice grew more insistent in her mind.

“Right…” General Syndulla responded after a few beats of silence. “Well, comm me when you’re planet-side.”

“Or don’t,” the droid hummed.

“Will do,” Master Bridger said before signing off. “Fly safe.” He lifted the cup to take another swig.

“You too, Spectre-6,” General Syndulla farewelled.

In the silence of the co*ckpit, the voice was a drowning rush in her ears at this point and she could no longer ignore it. She felt as though she were being hounded by some faceless beast made of shadow, its growling voice filling her mind with one name, over and over.

“Who is Dume?" Rey asked tactlessly. She almost felt bad when Master Bridger choked on his caf. He sputtered and quickly set the cup down, his hand moving to wipe the spill on his bearded chin.

“W-where did you hear that?”

Rey hesitated, wondering if she could trust the Jedi since no one but Jacen and Asha (and maybe Ben) seemed to trust her. “When I shook your hand.” It wasn’t a complete lie—the animalistic deep growl had whispered the name louder and louder with each passing moment she spent around Master Bridger, and had intensified when they touched.

He considered her for a moment, his eyes full of sadness and confusion rather than anger, but he did not provide her with an answer to her curiosity. The ship jerked as it entered hyperspace and Rey felt her muscles tense at the sudden movement. One of the ship’s components began to beep insistently but Master Bridger was unconcerned as he silenced it before resolving whatever issue it warned against.

Rey stared at the blinking console lights rather than out the viewport at the wipe of stars. She was all too familiar with hyperlane sickness if she stared at the blur for too long. She didn’t want to be bedridden and vomiting from even the slightest movement before she could complete this quest.

“I’m sorry, that was rude,” Rey backpedalled. She needed at least one of the masters to trust her implicitly.

“No it’s…it’s all right Rey, you just took me by surprise. Cal said you could read echoes…I just hadn’t heard that name in a long time.”

She wondered if Dume was his name and why he might now be using a pseudonym. “I’m sorry for interrupting your conversation,” she added, her cheeks warm.

“How do you know Hera?” He didn’t sound angry, just curious.

“She’s…Jacen’s mother,” Rey hedged, taking a long sip of her caf that definitely needed more sweetener.

He hummed. “You called her General.” He nudged the co-pilot’s chair with his foot, turning her so she faced him. It squeaked loudly with the movement. “Jacen would refer to her as tirva.” His lips tugged into an amused half-smile. His finger tapped the rim of his cup in a quick staccato. “Only Poe still calls her General.”

“I’ve read about her. Her time in the Rebellion,” Rey responded, almost too quickly based on his narrowed eyes. She hoped there were actual records of the General or else her lie was obvious. He must know that, without access to the HoloNet at the Praxeum, there would be no way for her to have read up on General Syndulla if Jacen hadn’t ranted about her and Poe had departed with Ahsoka after their brief (reunion) first meeting.

“You know her.” It wasn’t a question but Rey shook her head regardless.

“I never met her,” that was the truth, at least. She had heard Poe raving about the legendary exploits of General Syndulla who had been one-third of the early Rebellion triumvirate alongside someone called Mon Mothma and, of course, General Organa. Stories that had been thirty years old by the time Poe was recounting them, but they were no less magical if the shine in his eyes was any indication whenever he told the tales. Even after the Resistance had triumphed over the First Order, she still hadn’t met the General. She couldn’t even recall where she had been stationed during the cleanup efforts across the galaxy. Idly, Rey wondered if Generals Syndulla and Organa had ever tired of fighting fascist forces for decades—if they would quit if they knew what seemingly unstoppable force was rising in the shadows.

Hope will always survive in those who continue to fight, an unfamiliar man’s voice echoed across the Force.

“Right,” Master Bridger nodded, but his tone made it clear he didn’t believe her.

Well, kriff. So much for getting one of the masters on her side.

“Maybe one day you’ll get to meet her. She’s a great pilot. Next time Luke visits Leia he could take you with him to the New Republic senate—though it’s a bit of a slog to the Core from the Praxeum.”

“I’d like that. I’ve never been to Hosnian Prime.” Rey smiled to herself. She hadn’t ever visited the Core worlds in her own time, especially not after the Hosnian system was decimated by the First Order. When she caught the look on Master Bridger’s face she knew she had made another error, her smile slipping.

“The current seat of the New Republic is on Chandrila,” he corrected gently. In his expression there was a shadow of what looked like smug triumph.

“Right…never really followed much politics…” her voice was small and she felt her grip on the Force constrict, wrapping around her like a ray shield. Again she wondered if trained Jedi could detect her lie in the Force.

When Ben entered the co*ckpit with some kind of furry creature around his shoulders, Rey jumped out of the co-pilot’s seat, grateful for the distraction, her plans to ply Master Bridger for information on dyads (and his romantic life) abandoned. She brushed past Ben roughly, nearly spilling his caf and upsetting the animal. It hissed, baring its sharp teeth at her before leaping the distance to Master Bridger’s chair. She felt Ben’s warm presence in the Force attempting to calm her agitation.

“I left you the datapad—” he began, but she was already descending the ramp, eager to put distance between her and Master Bridger. It wasn’t until she was safely sequestered in the lounge that she realized she had left her caf in the co*ckpit.

Space was karking cold, she thought. Despite the creature (which Ben had informed her was something called a Loth-cat) dozing on her lap and the three blankets she had wrapped around herself, the bulkhead was still chilly against her back as she spent yet another cycle scouring the HoloNet on Ben’s datapad. The screen was slightly scratched in some spots and a corner of the casing was cracked, leaving a strange permanent green line across the screen, but it was easy to ignore after a while. Despite her being flung ten years into the past, the datapad seemed old even for this time. When she had first taken it in her hand, unbidden memories had echoed across the Force—a splash of images and emotions that had flashed too quickly for her to linger on any one moment. But it was clear the datapad had been a gift from Han, and a treasured one at that.

Her search for the First Order was slow going. Growing up, she had taught herself to read, so there were occasional moments where she struggled to decipher the Aurebesh letters or puzzle out a phrase. More than once, she wished the information was written in binary. She huffed at another vague report of Imperial Remnants attacking a New Republic facility in the Outer Rim. While the details were absent and Rey could only guess at what they were planning, she was certain they were First Order. The burgeoning group had not called themselves such—yet—but the frequency of their attacks, raids, and reports of abductions were on the rise. Finn’s smiling face flashed in her memory and she frowned harder at the Aurebesh, trying to find a pattern that could predict their next move.

After her disastrous interaction with Master Bridger in the co*ckpit three cycles ago, she had kept to the lounge and one of the sleeping bays (closest to the engine core where it was warm). She had avoided both men and slept little, eating even less, her nerves frayed as she tried to plan her next steps. When she had first touched a lightsaber, the voices in the Force had told her she was taking her first steps. Rey felt she had made little progress since then, a Jedi only by virtue of being one of the last in the galaxy, no school, and no ideas on where to even begin. Finn had been an enormous help, his bright disposition sometimes the only reason that persuaded Force sensitive orphans to join the Jedi-school-that-did-not-exist-yet.

The datapad drooped in her slackened grip as she realized that Finn would be one of those Force sensitive orphans—how old would he be now? Twelve? Fourteen? He had said that he had never known his real birthday, adopting the day he met Poe (and gained a name) as one for celebration. She could not recall her own birthday—unable to understand why sentients enjoyed celebrating the fact that they were one standard galactic year closer to death. All the pair knew was what the med droid had told them during their first examination with the Resistance—that both had at least two decades to their name and that there was about five galactic standard years between them.

Even her real name had been a secret she guarded closely, adopting ‘Rey’ after first learning what the faded Aurebesh letters on the side of that helmet she’d found had spelled. She would often make up tales about Captain Ræh, bedtime stories to lull herself to sleep in the cold desert nights, the wind tossing the Jakku sands against the metal carcass that Rey called home. Her eyes stung with unshed tears as she realized she had never had the chance to tell Finn her true name—she resolved that, when she found him, he would know it.

“I brought you something,” Ben’s low tone startled her, her fingers twitching on the screen, the random combination somehow changing the language settings to Huttese.

“Kriff,” she muttered, staring at the unintelligible shapes, her brow pinched. The Loth-cat leapt off her lap in search of its master, claws clinking lightly against the metal grate, tail swaying like a plant stalk in the wind.

He set a cup and a steaming bowl of food onto the table before reaching out to fix her error, his fingers moving deftly across the datapad. When he placed it on the table before her, the Aurebesh was back—not that Rey was glad to see it again—but she nodded her thanks.

“You know Huttese?” Rey sounded dubious even as she dug into the appetizing food, seasoning tingling along her tongue and warming her throat.

He seemed almost embarrassed to reveal the information. “Yeah uh, my dad—”

“Ah right, of course,” she nodded sagely, trying to gather as much of the unknown food onto her fork as possible. It had taken her the better part of a year after joining the Resistance to finally be able to eat—and keep down—large meals, working her way up from quarter rations that could fill her palm to a full tray of food and sides.

Ben was silent while she shoveled the food into her mouth and she glanced up to notice his furrowed brow.

“You know my father?”

Rey swallowed, the food almost lodging uncomfortably in her throat before she nodded again. “I mean, ‘Solo’ is a pretty unique family name.” In a galaxy full of orphans and estranged sentients it definitely was not a unique name, but Rey grabbed the cup of water to wash down the food before she choked. “Who doesn’t know the legendary exploits of the smuggler Han Solo?”

He leaned back and crossed his arms. His large frame dwarfing the creaking plastoid chair would almost be comical if she weren’t suddenly sweating. What had he put in this food?

“Smuggler? Most people know him as a General from the Rebellion. War hero. Kessel Run. All that.” He waved a hand idly, his mouth twisted into an amused smirk.

“Right, fourteen parsecs—”

Even as she said it, she knew she was wrong, Han’s voice echoing in her memory—

“Twelve,” Ben corrected, a tad prickly before he chuckled, shaking his head. “Sometimes you seem to know things you shouldn’t and I think you might have some special gift from the Force…but you’re just an ordinary human woman. It’s jarring.”

“So is putting your foot in your mouth and you haven’t changed in that regard Ben Solo,” Rey tossed down her fork with a loud clatter before rising to leave the lounge, ignoring the way his eyebrows shot up at her sudden animosity.

You’re nothing…

A telltale crackle over the shipwide comms signaled an announcement as Master Bridger’s voice filtered through the tinny speakers. “We’re coming up on Jedha if you two want to join me in the co*ckpit.”

It was only after Rey was strapped in (angrily fumbling with the seatbelt) did Ben join them, sitting behind Bridger, his Force signature pulled back and subdued. Rey focused on her breathing, as Leia had taught her, attempting to center herself with a calm energy, especially after the ship shuddered once again as it dropped out of hyperspace. A brown planet not unlike Jakku hung in the inky blackness beyond the viewport. As they neared its orbit, Rey leaned forward in her seat, fascinated by the crater in the northern hemisphere, large enough to see from space. Thousands of voices cried out faintly in the Force before suddenly being silenced and Rey exhaled a shaky breath.

“That used to be the Holy City,” Master Bridger explained when he caught her staring. “Imps destroyed it while testing out the first Death Star.”

“Why?” Rey felt foolish asking—as if the Empire or First Order needed any reason for their cruelty.

He shrugged. “To see if they could. Before that, they had been gutting the planet for its kyber.”

“Is there enough kyber left?”

“Oh yeah,” Master Bridger was quick to reassure her with a smile. “Wouldn’t be coming here if there wasn’t.”

“Neither would the raiders or remnants,” Ben mumbled behind them.

Rey wrinkled her nose. “What do they want with kyber crystals? Can’t they only be used by Jedi?”

Bridger scratched his cheek as he gently eased the transport towards the equator, dipping the nose of the ship to ready it for a descent. His motions were easy and sure, the flight path familiar after numerous trips to the planet. “Not quite—kyber is coveted and really valuable on the black market. Good for weapons…of any kind.”

“Are there other planets with kyber?” She was coming to realize just how little she knew. Rey thought she would have been a poor teacher—how would her fledgling students have built lightsabers if she didn’t even know how it was done or where to retrieve the crystals that powered the kriffing things?

“Yeah,” he chuckled darkly. “But we were forced to trade snow and ice for sand and dust. Used to be that Padawans and Jedi would visit Ilum for their crystals.”

Rey had never heard of the planet but nodded for him to continue.

“A balance in the Force for millennia, until a few years after Order 66…” His expression darkened and the ship lurched as it broke through the stratosphere, temporarily jolting Rey out of her seat.

She glanced at Ben over her shoulder, his eyes already on her, before she faced forward again as the ship leveled out. She was still angry with him, she reminded herself.

“Before Cal had joined us to start the Praxeum, he had gone back Ilum to rebuild his saber, but he had seen what the Imps had done to the planet—carving it up like…” His fingers tightened around the steering column. “Luke and I had to see for ourselves. That kind of willful destruction? It leaves an impression in the Force that even non-sensitives and those of us without psychometry can feel.” He shook his head, exhaling deeply and Rey could feel his sadness mixed with undercurrents of anger. “But I’d never seen anything like it, a trench around the entire planet, visible even from light-years away, a scar in the kyber at the heart of the Force.”

Rey straightened, her gaze on the Jedi, eyes burning and unblinking. “A t-trench?” Her voice was small and she felt Ben’s curiosity across their Bond at her sudden distress, but she pushed back against his questing signature, she had to confirm her suspicions—a planet of ice…red lights streaking across the Takodana sky filled her memory…Starkiller Base…Kylo in the forest, in the snow, a figure she had seen before in a daydream…in a nightmare.

“Rey,” Ben spoke up behind them, leaning forward against his seat’s restraints. “What—”

“Karabast,” Master Bridger interrupted, saving Rey from any questioning. He pulled the ship into a sudden sharp turn, weaving between rock formations and over a cliff. “Spotted some ships outside the ruins.” He smiled when he caught Rey’s queasy expression. “Should be fine as long as we avoid them and stick to our caves in the east. Gonna take the scenic route just in case they follow.”

“We should just take them out now,” Ben muttered darkly and Rey felt a shiver crawl up her spine. “A warning to any future raiders.”

“Well…” Bridger drew out the sound. “Luke wouldn’t like that very much.” His retort was matter-of-fact, as though they’d oft had this argument. Rey could guess where he stood on the matter. Minutes later, he eased the ship down near the base of a cliff, R4 beeping happily as it initiated the landing sequence. The old transport listed to one side as it landed on the starboard struts first before leveling onto the left. Kriff, Rey had to do something about the garbage ships at the Praxeum. One more thing to fix added to her ever-growing list.

Master Bridger swiveled in his chair to face them, slapping his thighs. “Ready for some kyber?” His tone was high and excited and Rey couldn’t help but smile.

Ben huffed as he unbuckled the straps. “Please don’t treat us like the younglings.”

He waved a hand, “Bah…you’re all younglings to me.”

“You’re not that old,” Ben scoffed.

“True, your Uncle keeps me young—”

Ben shot out of his seat, groaning loudly to drown out his voice as he escaped from the co*ckpit, moving with a speed that he reserved for lightsaber battles.

The older Jedi winked at Rey. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Getting your kyber is always an interesting experience.”

They gathered in the ship’s cargo bay, but before Ben could pull the lever to lower the ramp, Rey cleared her throat.

“Isn’t it dangerous for us to look…” Rey faltered, unsure of how to describe their outfits. Ben waited for her to finish. “Like Jedi?”

Ben and Master Bridger glanced down at themselves. She and Ben were dressed in nondescript browns and whites while the older Jedi sported a deep blue tunic tucked into dark brown trousers. With Bridger’s unusual blaster clipped to his belt, their outfits were neutral enough that one might see any traveller (or raider) wearing. Though all three of them had billowing brown travel cloaks that seemed to scream ‘Jedi’ more than ‘innocuous traders’.

“Why would it be dangerous to look like Jedi?” Ben asked baffled, while Ezra’s expression was unreadable. As a member of the council, she did not doubt he was aware of the anomalous nature of her arrival at the Praxeum—though she was unsure what theories on her origins the council of Jedi were attempting to reconcile with.

Rey pushed aside her thoughts. “Plenty of groups in the galaxy that might still follow the old ways, could harbor some anti-Jedi sentiment.”

Ben scoffed. “It’s been over forty years since the old Order was eradicated, I doubt anyone these days even knows what a lightsaber looks like.” He waved his around as if to prove his point but Rey merely pursed her lips with a frown.

“It’s rare that we run into anyone on Jedha around the caves we use—the raiders and Imps like to scrounge around the old temple and ruins of the Holy City—but we’ll be cautious,” Ezra mediated, his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Let’s leave our cloaks on board.” He tossed Ben a leather jacket as he pulled on a poncho from the storage lockers near the bay doors. Ben added a blaster holster to his thigh, his foot propped against the bench for leverage as he strapped it on. The powerful muscles in his thigh were taut against the fabric of his trousers, drawing Rey’s eye for a few nanoseconds before she quickly searched the locker to hide her red cheeks. She found a hip-holster for an aging blaster of her own.

She examined the weapon distastefully. “Is anything at the Praxeum not a piece of junk?”

Ben laughed humorlessly and Bridger shot her an amused look. “Never really need any other weapons besides lightsabers and the Force—and it’s not like we’re the pride of the New Republic Fleet.”

We’re keepers of the peace, not soldiers, an unfamiliar man’s placating tone echoed in her mind, an undercurrent of condescension in his words.

While it was not a satisfactory answer either way, Rey focused on the other items in the locker. After discarding her own cloak, she donned a pair of goggles and grabbed a beige scarf to wrap around her mouth to keep out the sand. When the ramp lowered and they were hit with a gust of arid heat, she felt as though she were back on Jakku.

It was a short walk from the ship to the cave entrance, a half-hidden jagged crack in the rock formation that Rey would not have known was there had they not shown her exactly where it was. The shadowed entrance filled her with a sense of trepidation and she found herself stepping back. Ben was at her shoulder, his hand on her bare elbow, a steady calm pulsing across their Bond in slow waves like the Praxeum lake.

“All right, in you go.”

“Master—”

“Ezra,” he corrected with a firm insistence.

She steeled herself. “What will I be looking for?” She only had Kylo’s cracked kyber (and the broken Skywalker lightsaber) to use as a template.

“Nothing and everything,” he responded with an air of practiced wisdom.

Rey frowned as Ezra lightly pushed her towards the entrance, breaking her contact with Ben. “That definitely helps then, thanks.”

He chuckled as he handed her a bag of provisions. “I know, but it’s what my master told me. You’ll find what you’re looking for. Trust yourself, trust in the Force.”

She did not look back as she entered the gloom of the cave.

The air beyond the cave was almost unnaturally chilled, the stones slick with condensation and dripping liquid from the ceiling. Rey kept the darkness at bay with a glowrod borrowed from the transport, though its range was limited to about three feet despite holding it high above her head.

After what seemed like hours of fumbling in the dark, Rey slipped down a ravine, skinning her knee as she rolled to a stop against the rough stalagmites near the bottom, light bouncing wildly across the walls as the glowrod flew out of her grip.

“Kriff…” Rey groaned as she rolled onto her back to stare into the dark, the light source either broken or out of battery—just as well, it had steadily grown dimmer over the course of her trek, yet another piece of junk. The ceiling was shadowed and hidden from her gaze, but moisture dripped down from the murk, sliding down her forehead.

Get back up. Always get back up.

She startled at the sound. “Master Luke?”

His voice had echoed in the cave as though he were beside her, but she knew it was impossible, she was alone.

You’re not alone.

She pushed herself up off the stone floor and delved deeper into the cave system, she had to find her kyber.

“‘Nothing and everything’,” she repeated to herself dubiously, limping through the tunnels. It had been hours and she still hadn’t seen anything even resembling a crystal. She hadn’t even been given a backup light source. How could Ezra claim the planet was still full of kyber? Had he dropped her off at the wrong cave? Her stomach rumbled for the third time in as many minutes but Rey focused on her mission, she had just eaten on the transport, she was not hungry.

“Where are you my little kyber…” she sing-songed into the gloom, her voice faint with fatigue, feet dragging. She kept the wall to her right, her hand trailing along the wet, rough stone to maintain her bearings. Her steps faltered at the sound of something—someone—breathing in the dark.

Her heart was in her throat but she refused to run. “Is someone there?” She hated how small her voice sounded.

“Don’t be afraid,” a woman’s voice called out, her tone soft and soothing, familiar and foreign at once.

Rey stepped forward, her hand on her blaster. Twin red lights pierced the inky darkness and she stumbled back.

“Don’t be afraid of who you are,” the woman was hooded, but unlike Luke, Rey knew a Sith when she saw one. She fired off four shots at center mass, but the woman deflected them with her strange bident saber. With every redirected shot, the Sith danced nearer to Rey whose aim grew shaky at her approach. Droplets from distant stalactites hissed as they landed on the red blades—this Sith was real, she was actually here. A redirected blaster bolt stung her arm as it grazed the exposed skin, Rey losing her grip on the blaster before it clattered away in the darkness. She had no weapons, nothing to defend herself with.

The dark side is in our nature, Kylo’s whisper echoed through the cave system. Surrender to it.

“Surrender child…bring him to me.” It was the creature from Ben’s nightmare and Rey whirled around trying to find it in the dark. “Surrender to it…”

The woman laughed as she lunged forward, one of the blades falling forward as her saber expanded into a staff. Her cackle grated on Rey’s nerves as her feet scrambled for purchase on the slick rock in her haste to escape the Sith.

“Surrender to your true self!” The Sith tipped back her cowl and smiled through pointed teeth.

“No!” A ragged scream tore itself from Rey’s throat as she stuck her hand out at the woman’s head, a streak of lightning shooting from her fingertips.

A towering column of ancient stalagmite exploded under the blast and Rey was suddenly alone, only her anguished cry echoing through the darkened caves. She collapsed, the wound on her knee sending spikes of pain through her and she slipped down a slope, the jagged ground cutting and scraping her exposed skin. She slowed her descent with the Force, biting back a sob as she curled around a boulder. She lay in the dark, the stone against her back solid and cold, for what seemed like the better part of an hour. Rey had to collect herself, she could not dissolve to pieces over one Sith; she had to find where the woman had gone.

The Sith had told her not to be afraid of who Rey is—her true self—but who is she, really?

You went straight to the dark, Master Skywalker’s astonishment from Ahch-To seemed to center her in reality once again. She had called to the dark, Rey acquiesced—but only in defense, she wanted to reason, though it was useless to argue with ghosts from the past—the future—she was alone.

You’re not alone, Rey.

Fear leads to anger, a wizened voice counseled. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering…

“I must not fear,” Rey whispered to herself, the voices of Jedi a soothing chorus in her mind.

In the heart of a Jedi lies her strength.

Was her heart strong enough to do what needed to be done? There was a part of Rey that was beginning to believe the Force had sent her back not only to change things but to ultimately die.

The strongest stars have hearts of kyber.

She had to harden her heart against the dark thoughts that invaded her mind. Ezra had told her to trust in the Force. She had to believe that everything had a purpose.

Feel the force flowing through you, Rey—let it lift you.

“I am one with the Force and the Force is with me,” Rey chanted in a low whisper.

Rise…

She pushed herself up in slow, painful movements until she sat back on her haunches, her breathing harsh as she attempted to fill her lungs with air. Rey put her head in her hands, struggling to figure out what to do next. Beneath her fingertips she could feel the wet and grime on her face.

In the night, find the light, Rey…

She turned her gaze upward until something caught her attention. High above her head a pinprick of light glowed like a single star. Rey felt herself drawn to it—was it the exit? She knew she had to reach it and escape the cave. How could Luke send younglings into such a dangerous place? It’s a wonder he still had so many students. This entire endeavor was useless—she’d find her crystal some other way, surely they had spare kyber at the Praxeum?

As she rose to her feet, she wavered, the wound in her knee throbbing with waves of heat. The blaster wound would also prevent her from climbing properly, the skin of her arm blistered and blackened from the burn. Rey squared her shoulders—she was used to working through pain. Once, when she was just starting out as a scavenger, she had misjudged a jump and fallen twenty feet. With no one around, she’d had to patch herself up and reset her ankle, spending the night in the skeleton of a Destroyer, hungry and alone. The next day she’d rigged up a harness and pulley system to reach the ground and had returned to Plutt to exchange her meagre findings for meagre rations.

Even now, as she climbed, she did not feel the same fear that had overtaken her a child, wondering if anyone would come to rescue her. She would save herself. Her nails were jagged and fingertips raw before she allowed herself to rest. Rey sat against the shelf of rock, catching her breath, her muscles trembling with effort. It was odd, she prided herself on her ability to climb, yet she was already exhausted. The entrance still seemed far away, but she had been climbing for hours, the ground no longer visible to the human eye, a gaping black chasm below her.

Her stomach twisted painfully and Rey finally relented and ate a ration bar from her belt, washing it down with some water from her canteen. She tried not to think about how disappointed Ezra and Ben would be, traveling four days only to return within hours of arriving. She definitely did not want to think about how disappointed Luke would be upon their return—would he expel her from the Praxeum? Rey sniffed, it was just as well, she was wasting her time at the Praxeum, she had to deal with more important things than securing Master Skywalker’s approval. She brushed the crumbs off her lap before resolving herself to resume the climb.

The Force hummed around her the closer she got to the light and she reached for the handholds with movements more eager than before, despite the strain in her limbs. The Jedi voices sang in her ear, louder and louder, seeming to lift her up. Rise, rise, rise…

The light, Rey realized when it was an inch from her face, was not the exit—it was a kyber crystal…her kyber crystal.

Reach out…

Rey stumbled out of the cave on weak legs, blinking against the harsh sun like a creature raised in darkness. Why was it so bright? She could hardly see, her feet dragging in the sand.

“Rey!”

Strong hands gripped her arms when she almost collapsed.

“Ben,” she murmured as he swept her up and carried her to the shade of the transport. She felt like she was floating, or flying through the air. “Why are you so tall…”

“Rey,” Ezra’s voice filtered through the dull sounds in her periphery. A hand cupped her cheek. “Rey, did you eat anything? Did you drink any water in the cave?”

“Didn’t really see a cantina, Master…” Rey mumbled through cracked and split lips, her voice as dry as the desert.

Ben huffed a laugh, his mouth by her ear when she felt the puff of air. “Rey you’ve been in there for four days,” Ben explained in a soothing voice, though she felt his worry through their Bond.

She blinked up at him owlishly, his blurred form slowly coming into focus. Days? She had been in the cave for hours, he must be mistaken. She wanted to correct him, but her mouth was not cooperative.

There was shuffling beside her as Ezra took her free hand, her other clenched into a fist protectively against her chest. Rey flinched when a sharp jab on the back of her hand drew her attention. Then, after a long delay, “Ow.”

“Knee’s infected,” Ezra was telling Ben. “Need to take a look at that arm too. Let’s bring her aboard, I’ll get us off this rock.”

“How the kriff did she get shot?” Ben hissed, his anger like an unpleasant drum against her head.

She felt warm against a wall of muscle against her cheek and she realized it was Ben’s chest as he carried her into the transport. “Comm ahead to the Praxeum, let them know—”

“No,” Rey protested, her voice weak, but Ben heard. “‘ku first…”

“Where?”

“I have to get her. Can’t leave her there…”

“Where,” Ben insisted verbally and through the Force.

She wrinkled her nose against the intrusion and implication that he thought her weak-minded enough to try it. She’d have to berate him about it later.

“Jakku…”

Chapter 7: The Detour

Chapter Text

Rey slept for two cycles, a bacta bag hanging by her head, replenishing her body with a steady stream of nutrients. Throughout that time, she had felt Ben’s presence in the Force beside her, but it was unobtrusive, unconsciously tethered to her even as she slept. He had been a silent guardian, keeping the gates of her mind secure against the dark forces who wished to corrupt it. She had sensed the creature from Ben’s nightmare, lurking in the shadows just beyond the periphery of her reach, quietly beckoning her—or maybe Ben? She is there, bring her to me, it had chanted in an alien tongue.

Rey woke slowly, then all at once. Her senses, dulled to the sights and sounds around her for two cycles, came rushing back as the Force sang around her. She jolted up in the cot, her head pounding in time with her heartbeat. In the back of her mind, she sensed Ben’s joy as her signature bloomed to life in the Force. Groaning, she pushed away the three blankets draped over her and swung her feet over the edge. She felt the ship’s engine, a stable hum beneath her bare feet through the cold floor grate. They were not moving through hyperspace, but they hadn’t landed yet either. Rey pulled on her boots as quickly as her weak fingers would allow before grabbing the bacta bag and heading for the ’fresher.

She was surprised that, despite the days she fumbled around in the kyber caves, Ben’s braids held strong, only a few strands had come loose. Her face was suddenly warm as she reached up to touch them, wondering if he had redone it in her sleep. Sooner or later she’d need to undo them to wash her hair, the cold rational part of her reminded—but Rey pushed aside the pragmatic scavenger; she could savor this one thing that was hers for a little while longer. After washing her face and clearing her mouth from the last vestiges of too much sleep, she headed for the co*ckpit, itching at the edges of the bacta patch on her arm.

Ben grinned when she entered, the Loth-cat in his lap.

Rey scowled. “Why haven’t we landed?”

“Keep that bag up,” Ezra counseled without turning around, inputting data into the nav computer. “Glad you’re feeling back to normal,” he mumbled just loud enough for her catch.

She glanced beyond the men and saw a planet looming beyond the viewport.

Rey’s heart was in her throat as she took in the planet that had been her lonely home for fifteen years. Jakku was an unremarkable dustball against the starry backdrop, but it had been the site for so many important moments in her life—from her parents abandoning her; to her first lost tooth; her first broken bone; her first scrap haul and first ration; the first time she’d experienced true hunger and the pains that accompanied it; her first friend and her first flight.

Ben stood, sensing her melancholy, but he did not reach out to her, looming awkwardly in the co*ckpit, the Loth-cat lazing on his arm, tail curling and uncurling slowly. She noted with some amusem*nt that he had to hunch to fit in the space.

“We’ve arrived at Jakku.” It wasn’t a question but she needed to say the words aloud, to make sure this was real—that she was here.

“Against my better judgement, yes,” Ezra complained as he flipped a few switches before swiveling around to look at the pair. “Not to mention Ben’s constant whining.”

Ben’s pout was almost enough to make her laugh as he denied the Jedi’s words. “I wasn’t whining, I was only following her wishes…”

“Thank you,” Rey interjected before they devolved into another argument. “You won’t regret it.”

“Why are we here, Rey?” Ezra asked, crossing his arms and leaning back in the pilot’s chair. “I assume, after wandering around the kyber caves, that you were given a vision from the Force about where to go next.”

“There’s a Force sensitive child living near Niima—”

“Are you serious?” Ezra interrupted, his groan making him sound much younger than his forty years. The Loth-cat leapt out of Ben’s arms before plodding out of the co*ckpit, sensing the rising tension. “We have other masters for that, Rey. They go out and gather potential younglings every other month. My job was to get you to Jedha and back, that’s it, no detours.”

“This one is important,” Rey felt the Force rise up to meet her anger and Ben held out his hands between her and the Jedi in an attempt to calm them both.

“Why?” Ben enquired quietly.

Rey pressed her lips together in a stubborn line.

Ezra scoffed, but there was no malice in it.

“All right, fine.” He stood up from the pilot’s chair and gestured for Rey to have a seat. “I assume you know where the child is? Lead us there, Captain.”

Rey pulled out the needle from her hand (with only a small wince) and set the bacta bag aside, readily taking the helm. She guided the ship towards Niima Outpost, the co*ckpit silent save for the occasional instrument beeping. Ezra would reach over from the co-pilot’s chair to disable the alarms or adjust the finer points that made the ship run (as well as it could, despite its flaws). She could feel anticipation and trepidation in the Force, though she was unsure if it was hers or Ben’s. Rey was so focused on her goal she did not realize she hadn’t reacted when the ship broke through the stratosphere of the planet. She flew over Niima without a backward glance, knowing her younger self would not be there. With more confidence than she felt, she took them low over the dunes, across Kelvin Ridge, her eye scanning the horizon for a familiar AT-AT. Ezra frowned when a sensor on one of the radars beeped a warning as they flew quickly over an abandoned village.

“Odd,” he mumbled, but did not share his thoughts as he silenced the sensor.

It was only minutes before she spotted the felled walker, her heart stuttering at the sight of it. In her haste to land, she forgot to disengage the landing struts, Ezra quickly releasing the clamps with a stern expression. Undeterred by the rough landing, Rey was already out of her seat, relinquishing controls to the older Jedi as she rushed out of the co*ckpit. She was vaguely aware of Ben dogging her heels.

Rey had enough sense to at least wait for the ramp to lower fully, rather than fling herself out the emergency airlock. Ben stood beside her, her goggles and scarf from Jedha in his hand. She accepted them with silent thanks, quickly dressing before descending the ramp. Ben lumbered after her, his heavy steps on the durasteel ramp loud in the sudden silence of the Jakku desert. The transport’s coolant exhaust clouded the ground in white mist, while a worrying clicking noise from somewhere on the port side drew her attention only for a moment before she focused on the AT-AT.

Rey bit her tongue to keep from calling out; that would raise more questions than answers. She knew she wasn’t here—she would have come running out at the sound and sight of a ship landing ten feet away from her home. Her first makeshift speeder was also missing.

The heat was just as intense as she recalled, beads of sweat already forming beneath her scarf. Though a quick glance at the sky told her it was past midday and that it was not so deadly to wander the dunes. The goggles filtered out most of the harmful light from the sun reflecting off the sand.

She noticed Ben’s disgruntled expression as he walked beside her.

“Don’t like sand?”

He looked affronted. “Does anyone like sand?”

It was certainly fun to slide down, Rey wanted to say, but as soon as she ducked into the AT-AT the words died in her throat. It was just as bare as she remembered, a small poorly-crafted doll propped up near the ratty blankets that served as her bed. She felt a wave of sadness and was surprised to discover it was coming from Ben who was crouched near the opposite end of the machine.

Ben’s fingers were lightly tracing the lines scratched into the bulkhead. Six jagged reminders. Rey didn’t need to touch anything here to read its echo, the memories stark in her mind. She would be eleven now, already scavenging and eking out a survival.

“She’s not here,” Rey spoke softly into the silence, feeling foolish to point out the obvious. She wasn’t sure where to start looking, the graveyard of Star Destroyers and Imperial machines stretched beyond the horizon; endless spots to scavenge and hide.

“We’ll wait,” Ben nodded before heading back to the transport to let Ezra know what they were planning.

In the silence of the AT-AT, Rey felt her stomach twist at the idea that she was back where she started, her breath coming out in short gasps as her vision dimmed at the corners—maybe everything in the last few years had been a fever dream—she wasn’t a Jedi, she wasn’t part of the Resistance, she was a nobody…

“Rey?” Ben’s voice beyond the AT-AT brought her back to reality and she inhaled a deep, shaky breath. She nearly ran into him in her haste to escape the machine. “Are you…” The words died in his throat when he saw her sallow face.

Beyond the AT-AT, a blaster went off and a child’s voice suddenly called out, “Who are you!”

“Easy now,” Ezra responded in a calm tone.

Rey and Ben hurriedly ducked out to see her younger self atop the dune, aiming a blaster bigger than her head at the Jedi.

“How’d you sneak up on me?” Ezra sounded intrigued, unbothered by the weapon aimed at him or the small angry child swearing insults at him in Teedospeak. When the girl spotted Rey and Ben she trained her blaster on them.

“I don’t have any scrap, leave me alone!”

Rey was impressed that none of them had heard her approach, she recalled her first speeder was a noisy piece of junk.

“It’s all right,” Rey spoke softly, pulling her goggles and scarf down to hang around her neck, her hands up to reveal the fact that she was unarmed, Ben following suit beside her. The girl wouldn’t know that the saber on Ben’s belt was a weapon.

The blaster dipped slightly as the girl frowned, squinting at Rey. “Mama?”

Rey’s breath hitched at the thought that she resembled her mother at all. She had no memory of her parents.

“Mama’s…gone. But I’m here now.” Her voice wavered, echoing over the dunes, but she stepped forward and it was enough for the child to drop her weapon and race down the dune, leaping into Rey’s arms.

Rey knelt before her, ignoring the sting of the sands against her half-healed wound, and brushed sweaty strands out of her red face. “I’m here. You’re all right now, sweetheart.”

“Are you going to stay with me?” She had tears streaking down gaunt, sand-dusted cheeks—Rey had often chastised herself for tears shed after her parents abandoned her, a waste of precious moisture in an unforgiving barren planet. Rey’s vision swam out of focus—she would allow it this once.

Rey smiled, her signature humming in the Force as she wiped away the salty tracks. “You’re coming with us.”

She felt Ben’s curiosity prodding her through their Bond and she inhaled deeply before glancing over her shoulder at the men.

“My name is Ezra,” he introduced, smiling kindly at the child. “That’s Ben.”

Rey felt her clutch at her neck more tightly than before, her trepidation obvious even if she weren’t broadcasting unconsciously through the Force. Before straightening, Rey gently pulled her hands away but did not let go.

“This is…my sister.”

Ben looked at her sharply with something akin to betrayal—though for what, Rey was unsure. Even the girl was surprised at this information, glancing up at Rey with undisguised confusion. Ezra’s face was impassive but he nodded his greeting.

“My sister…Kira.” The name she had held so close to her chest, a name she had not uttered in decades had finally slipped past her lips, drifting in the wind over the sands. Rey felt as though she were finally free of an invisible burden, her shoulders lighter. It was no longer hers to claim, she would never be Kira again, only Rey.

Kira’s small hand tightened almost painfully around hers.

“You didn’t mention a sister to the council,” Ezra mused, leaning against the transport strut.

“I was worried for her safety—didn’t know I could trust the Jedi.”

“So you thought this rundown machine in the middle of nowhere was a safer place than the Praxeum?”

Rey’s temper flared in the Force and Ben shot Ezra a warning glance. “We got separated…I had only just found out her location before I arrived at the Praxeum.”

Ezra seemed amused by this—but if he could tell it was a lie, he did not say so to her face. “In any case, we need to get going. Now.”

Before Rey or Ben could question Ezra’s haste, a blaster bolt exploded near her feet, transmuting the sand into an oddly-shaped blob of glass, glinting in the sunlight.

“Halt!”

“There she is, grab her!”

“Blast them!”

Rey was stunned as she saw four Imperial Stormtroopers crest the dune, their blasters raised and aimed right at them. Were they looking for her or Kira?

She is there…the monstrous voice caressed her mind like a whisper.

Ezra was quick to return fire, Ben ran forward to grab Kira, tossing a spare blaster at Rey who caught it only by instinct. Teeth bared, Rey fired shots at the troopers, willing the bolts to find their target through the Force. The entire encounter was over in minutes. She was by Ben’s side in a moment, reaching for Kira who was tucked against his side, his hand covering her head.

“Are you—” Rey choked on the lump of worry in her throat as she pulled the girl from Ben’s grasp. He set her down before turning on Ezra.

“What the kriff was that? You knew they were coming?”

That drew Rey’s attention, her hands stilling over Kira’s shoulders as she checked her for injury. “What?”

“I saw their ship on the radar earlier, but they were scrounging around in that village,” Ezra reasoned calmly, clipping his blaster back onto his belt before turning away from the trio. “Now that they’re dealt with, we can head out. Let’s go.”

Something seemed to tingle at the back of her neck at the thought of leaving, the Force willing her to stay. “Wait,” she murmured, loud enough to catch their attention. “An Imperial ship?” A First Order databank. “We need to get to it.”

Ezra shook his head in disbelief and even Ben seemed dubious. “Why?” At her hesitation he sighed. “Listen, I’m not one to shy away from infiltrating Imp installations and ships, but this time I’m not going anywhere without a valid reason.”

She was getting no help from Ben on this one. Kira clutched her hand, her tiny palm sweaty. “There is vital information on their systems we can use. The New Republic and Gen—Senator Organa could benefit from those data files.”

“How do you know there’s useful information on there?” Ben’s tone was neutral, but he could no doubt sense her desperation through their Bond.

Rey seemed to hold her breath before she thought of a response. “Well, the ship itself wouldn’t have the intel—but there would be details on where the Imperials are operating and personnel lists. The valuable information comes from…someone I know.”

“An Imperial spy?” Ezra raised a thick eyebrow at this but waited for her to continue.

“A trooper who was drafted against his will. We’ll need to extract him. He’ll be invaluable to the New Republic, I promise.” She poured her hope and desperation into the Force, praying for the Jedi believe her.

Ezra’s deep blue eyes bore into hers but Rey did not waver. He seemed to sense her resolve and nodded. “Let’s take the ship over, I’m not trudging through the sand for a bunch of data tapes.”

They had taken off quickly, pausing only for Kira to grab her doll—the girl clutching tightly to Rey’s hand, unwilling to let her out of her sight in case her only family flew away again—before they navigated low over the dunes to the village nearby. Rey spotted it from the co*ckpit, a sleek black gunship stark against the sand—a foreign invader, something that did not belong. Every desert-dweller knew that black meant death. She did not doubt the durasteel hull of the ship could boil a porg egg in less than minute. Rey felt a cold creep down her spine as she recognized the ship and class—it was First Order.

Ezra landed the transport nearby but all three of them could sense more life forms nearby. After Ben and Ezra headed to the cargo bay, Rey tucked Kira into the fourth chair of the co*ckpit. Her voice caught in her throat when she caught herself before she could say the same words her parents told her when they abandoned her. Instead, Rey held her hands tightly in hers. “Stay right here. I need to find my best friend, this is the only way I can find out where he is.”

“Is he lost too?” Kira held Rey’s hand tight.

“For now,” Rey nodded. “But after today, I’ll have what I need to rescue him.”

“Can…can he be my best friend too?”

Rey’s cheeks ached from the wide smile she flashed at her younger self. “Of course. His name is Finn.”

When she descended the ramp, she felt the tension in the air, the trepidation from the remaining ten troopers who held their blasters loosely, not quite at ease but not quite aiming at Ezra and Ben who stood in casual repose. Well, Ezra was calm, Rey realized as she noticed Ben’s hand at his belt, close to his saber. One of the troopers spotted her and his blaster twitched higher. Unafraid, she came to stand between the men, her hand loosely at her side, close to her blaster. She really needed a lightsaber in her hands again.

The silence from the village was unnerving, the desert was never a quiet place, but there was a void in the Force here. The wind whipped the sand around their feet, a soft susurrus, a calm lullaby that Rey was familiar with.

“There’s no scrap here for you scavenger-rats. Get going,” a trooper with an orange pauldron waved them off.

“What happened to the settlers?” Ezra asked jovially, as though he weren’t facing down a First Order firing squad. Though his tone was aloof, there was a hard look in his eyes.

“That’s none of your business,” one of them spat, his vocoder not disguising his disdain. “Move along and you get to keep breathing.”

Ben stepped forward impatiently and waved two fingers in front of him. “What’ve you done with the settlers?”

They straightened, their grip on their blasters slackening. “Killed them,” another responded, monotone.

“Ben,” Ezra admonished lightly.

A chill swept down her spine at the forewarning from the Force, Ben’s intent like a mammoth wave cresting the horizon.

The Force moves darkly around a creature that’s about to kill…

“Wait—” Ezra had felt it too, his hand shooting out to stop Ben from wrapping the Force around one of the troopers. The white plastoid creaked as the trooper was lifted off his feet, grasping his neck in a fruitless attempt to breathe.

“J-Jedi!” Someone cried out, their emotions a sudden explosion of fear in the Force.

“Blast th—” another called just as Ezra drew his blaster and took him down.

Rey fired off a few rounds, but the bolts went wide in her panic, leaving behind oddly-shaped glass baubles in the sand, sunlight glinting blindingly off the smooth surface. The trooper suspended in the air suddenly collapsed, a void in the Force in the shape of the corpse. The other troopers fired on them with renewed vigor to avenge their fallen comrade. There was a scramble as everyone moved for cover behind crates and what structures remained standing.

“Karabast,” Ezra swore softly and Rey was momentarily puzzled when a green lightsaber blade ignited from the end of his blaster to deflect the bolts more easily. Distractedly, she thought that Finn might like to design his saber in the same way.

She cursed when a bolt whizzed past her ear, quickly taking aim at the troopers who ran for the cover of the abandoned village ramshackle buildings. With the path to the First Order gunship clear, she ran towards the open ramp, dodging stray shots with the help of the Force, trusting in Ben and Ezra to cover her. She reached out with the Force, a code cylinder flying into her open hand. Once aboard—the sleek interior a stark contrast to the dirty, secondhand transport from the Praxeum—Rey quickly made her way to the co*ckpit and began to search the data files. She was able to access the personnel files with ease, troopers listed by designation, hundreds…thousands of letters and numbers. She had much work to do in the days (years) ahead.

“FN-21…82, 83, 84…87—found you,” she whispered in the silent co*ckpit, a wistful smile on her lips. She downloaded the data, noting the navpoint of Finn’s current posting—and Jannah’s—before a trill indicated the transfer was complete. Rey pulled out the tape, hooking it to her belt before rushing back into the fray.

Ezra spotted her first, moving in her direction and into the open as he laid out cover fire and to make himself a better target for the Imps. She ran past the Jedi with an ease that came from years in the desert, her steps sure and light on the uneven sands.

“Rey!” She felt her heart nearly stop at Kira’s panicked cry.

“Get back in the ship!” Rey shouted, her back to the troopers, her eyes only on the child.

She felt when the Force twisted again—this one a familiar feeling, but she was stunned to see that three blaster bolts aimed at her and Kira were frozen in midair, Ben’s hand quivering with effort. He had pulled the same trick Kylo once had to stop her lightsaber swing—but she had never seen him do it to things with such velocity, never knew it was possible. In her shock and his concentration, another shot made it past his own Force wall and struck him in the gut.

“No!” Rey realized she was the one who cried out as Ben crumpled, clutching his side. The three bolts, suddenly released from their hold, were scattered wide to avoid her and Kira.

Ezra’s lightsaber collapsed as he took aim and fired off four shots, squarely in each Imp’s neck, the weakness between their plastoid armor plates. With three remaining, they ducked for cover and there was a momentary ceasefire. Rey was at Ben’s side in moments, gently peeling away his tunic, wincing at the fabric embedded in the melted flesh.

“Master Bridger,” Rey was surprisingly calm, her voice unwavering. “We need to get him on the ship.”

His hand outstretched, Ezra inhaled and exhaled steadily, as if meditating, unaffected by the blaster fire near his face—the shots seemed to veer and avoid him entirely. Rey took up Ben’s saber and expertly deflected the remaining shots.

Before she could wonder what the kark the Jedi was doing in the middle of battle, a beast sprung up from the sand, larger than the dunes around them, swallowing up two troopers before the rest realized what was happening.

“Time to go!” Ezra shouted with an air of slight panic, pulling one of Ben’s arms over his shoulder and using the Force to help carry him across the sands and up the ramp of the ship.

Kira stood at the ramp, clutching the strut with wide, worried eyes. Rey grabbed her hand and pulled her back into the ship, covering the men with Ben’s saber, though the troopers were now focused on the beast, firing wildly, modulated screams echoing across the desert.

“R4 start the takeoff sequence, get us out of here!” Ezra shouted into his commlink as they ran up the ramp, Rey hastily pulling the lever before the ship ascended as quickly as it could.

Ezra set down his charge in the cargo bay, Ben groaning as the movement jostled his injury.

“Hang on, I’ll grab the bacta spray,” Ezra’s voice was shaky, and Rey thought that she and Ben were perhaps the first Padawans injured under his care. It was rotten luck, chaperoning a gaggle of younglings every few weeks for years without incident and suddenly, in the span of a few cycles, she nearly dies and Skywalker’s nephew gets shot.

“No, we don’t need it.” Rey found herself kneeling by Ben, her hand outstretched over his wound. Kira hovered at her shoulder, clutching the hem of her threadbare tunic in a white-knuckled grip.

“Uh, have you done this before?” Ben’s worry, and pain, fluttered across their Bond.

“No,” she responded. Not yet. She could still feel the salty sea spray on her lips.

“You know what,” Ben hedged, trying to sit up. “I’m actually feeling fine—”

Rey pushed him down with a forceful hand.

Ezra couched beside them, the bacta clutched tightly in his hand as he observed Rey’s manipulation of the Force to heal the wound. “Dank farrik,” he whispered in a language Rey did not recognize.

She felt her energy drain and sat back on her rear, her legs suddenly weak, muscles spasming from overuse. Ezra observed the site of Ben’s wound but found nothing except smooth skin. Rey had to tear her gaze away from the sculpted muscles of his stomach before either of them noticed. She looked up at Kira and gave her a tired smile. “I think I’m going to rest a while…”

Kira stood before Rey a towel around her bony shoulders, her sodden hair leaving a trail of droplets from the ’fresher to the lounge. In one hand she held a small pouch, the other a comb. Rey smiled as she sat up, her energy nearly back to normal since they’d departed Jakku. They had been in hyperspace for four hours, with Rey sleeping off her exhaustion nearly the entire time. Ben had quietly informed her that Kira had curled up by her side and hadn’t budged until he offered her food. When Rey woke, she led the girl to the ’fresher to wash away the desert and her old life.

“What is this?” Kira held up a soft grey pouch Rey had never seen before. Curious, Rey untied the neck before upending it—a crystal tumbling into her open palm.

“Oh,” Rey breathed. “It’s my kyber crystal.”

“What’s that?”

She had thought her climb in the caves had been a fever dream, that she hadn’t retrieved any kyber. She eyed Kira. “How did you find this?”

The girl shrugged, but Rey knew herself well enough to tell when she was lying. It must have called to her like it had to Rey—they were the same person after all, it made sense that she would be drawn to the same crystal. With a pang of sudden guilt, Rey wondered if she had stolen Kira’s chance at having her own kyber crystal; was there only one for each Force user no matter if they had been thrown a decade into their own past? As she returned the crystal to the pouch, she resolved to ask Master Skywalker—in a purely hypothetical theoretical discussion on kyber crystals.

“Come here,” Rey twisted to the side before motioning for Kira to join her on the cushion. Taking the comb, she began to gently separate and untangle the wet strands.

She felt a wave of warmth and what felt like longing through the Force and looked up to see Ben watching them from the entrance to the galley. He started at being caught and quickly raised his cup of caf up to his lips, lumbering past them with a second cup in hand. After Rey had healed him through the Force, he had moved unencumbered, as though he’d never been shot at all.

“He’s big,” Kira mumbled into her arms, large eyes tracking Ben’s movements towards the co*ckpit.

Rey chuckled. “If you want, he can braid your hair.”

“Did he do yours?” She twisted to look at her, eyes tracking the complex twists.

She nodded before turning Kira back around to face the lounge so that she could continue brushing her hair.

“I don’t have anything to trade him for it,” she mumbled, her excitement at having her hair braided fading faster than the last beams of sunlight on a barren planet in winter.

Rey frowned. “You don’t need to give him anything for it. You just ask, and he’ll either say yes or no.” She knew it would be hard for Kira to shake off the scavenger mindset—it had taken Rey months with the Resistance to realize not everything worked on a barter system. The worst offense was when she didn’t believe that laundry services in the base were free—how could water, a precious resource, be free of charge? It was unfathomable. “And trust me,” she injected levity in her tone, “he won’t say no to you, otherwise he’ll have to answer to me.”

After a few minutes of silence, Kira spoke again, “You must be my sister,” she sniffled, her hand hastily wiping at something on her cheeks.

“Why’s that?” Rey asks with a smile as she ran the comb through her wet locks uninhibited, every tangle found and smoothed.

“You knew my name.”

The comb faltered on its track before Rey reached forward to hug her tightly against her chest.

“You will never be alone again, I promise.”

She felt the melancholic gratitude radiating from the girl as she squeezed the last drops of water from the ends of her hair. Rey’s heart ached as she took in her younger self, the spare tunic they had found in the cargo bay large and loose, despite the fact that it was fit for a humanoid youngling. Kira would quickly take to the Praxeum, a better life than the one she had been dredging through, but it would take time. While she was now safe with ‘family,’ she was still withdrawn and mistrustful. Ben and Ezra had kept a wide berth around the girls, leaving them to care for each other, though Rey could feel the Bond between her and Ben like a half-open door—an invitation, not a demand.

It was only after she was certain Kira was fast asleep in her bunk under layers of blankets did Rey join the men in the co*ckpit. Ben was piloting through an asteroid field that lay between them and their next jump point. A distant nebula in the shape of five pillars bathed the transport in a soft blue-purple glow. Spotting something blinking on the horizon, she leaned forward, bracing her hand against the back of the pilot’s chair, inadvertently pulling Ben towards her.

“Wow,” she breathed, eyes bright as she took in the pod of animals swimming in the inky blackness of space, stripes of light flashing along their bodies. A familiar feeling of wonderment filled her, like when she had first glimpsed the lake on Takodana. “What are those?”

When Ben did not immediately respond, she looked down and saw that his eyes were on her lips, his gaze soft as he took in her expression. “Purrgil,” he murmured, his breath hot against her cheek.

Loud footsteps announced Ezra’s arrival and Rey jumped back as though caught, embarrassment seizing her—though it was ridiculous, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. He did not look at the pair, though Rey could feel a faint amusem*nt emanating around him in the Force.

“Never seen Purrgil before?” Ezra was nursing a bowl of food, half-heartedly swatting at the Loth-cat perched on his shoulder who attempted to steal a few bites. He threw himself into the co-pilot’s seat with a heavy sigh and Rey shook her head. “Beautiful creatures.”

He seemed wistful and Rey wondered if they were the last of their kind. She did not pry, only turning her gaze back out the viewport to watch as the space creatures winked away in a flash of light. The spell in the co*ckpit was broken.

“How is she?” Ezra asked around the fork, inquisitive blue eyes belying his aloof tone.

Rey hummed. “She’ll be okay. She’d had a rough go of it before I found her, so it’ll take her some time to get used to other people.” Rey put rubbed her arms as though warding off the chill of space. “Especially people who are willing to give her things without asking for some kind of payment.”

Ezra raised an eyebrow at the venom in her words and even Ben glanced over his shoulder, feeling her unease through the Force.

“She’ll enjoy it at the Praxeum, if you two decide to stay,” Ezra carried on with a kind smile. “It’s always intimidating at first, but she’ll open up around other younglings her age.”

Rey frowned, sinking into the third seat behind Ben. “What do mean if we decide to stay?”

“Well, you’re free to leave at any time…it’s a school, not a jail,” Ezra scoffed around a mouthful of food, unknowingly echoing her sentiments when she had confronted Master Skywalker.

“But…I got my kyber,” she reasoned, her hand straying to the pouch in her pocket, not quite wanting to brandish it in case it was a cruel illusion from the Force.

“Rey,” Ezra set the bowl down with a sigh, unconcerned when his Loth-cat descended on it like some bird of prey swooping down from the sky, all teeth and claws. “Being at the Praxeum and having a lightsaber doesn’t mean you have to be a Jedi. When we founded the Praxeum, we didn’t want to be beholden to ideals that none of us were raised by—well, Ahsoka and Cal aside.”

“But there are still rules—”

“Yes, to maintain some semblance of order. Can you imagine the chaos if we just let a hundred Padawans run around the planet unchecked?” He chuckled as he leaned back in the creaky co-pilot’s seat, crossing his arms. “The old Jedi ways are useful guidelines, but not an absolute dogma that Luke wants to repeat. He knows all too well of their failings.” His expression grew unfocused for a moment, lost in thought.

Rey bit her tongue to keep from mentioning that in a decade, Luke would have failed in the worst way possible. She dared a quick glance at the back of Ben’s head.

Ezra’s chest rose as he inhaled deeply, centering himself before continuing. “Luke and I and some of the other masters grew up as normal people—”

“Normal people on the run from the Empire,” Ben added with a sardonic smirk.

“On the run from, infiltrating, taking down, exploding bases,” Ezra waved a dismissive hand at the exploits of his youth. “Point is, we were not Temple-raised Jedi like Cal and Ahsoka, taken into the Order from a young age. So we brought together our upbringing and beliefs with Temple philosophy to create something new.”

“And that means training Force users, not Jedi,” Rey concluded, eyes on her hands in her lap. She touched her fingertips to her thumbs to stave off idleness.

“Exactly,” Ezra flashed her a brilliant smile. “We never take younglings away from their parents, and never recruit any younger than ten standard. Once they’re with us, we don’t hold them hostage. There’s a week set aside every month—well, really it’s two weeks when you factor in roundtrip travel time—” When he caught himself rambling he took a breath. “It’s for them to visit their families and take a break from learning, while also giving us a break from them.” The last part was mumbled with a fond smile.

“Wow,” Ben spoke up after initiating the jump into hyperspace. “I didn’t realize you didn’t like younglings this much.”

“I do like younglings,” Ezra bristled instantly. “Just not all the time. We don’t all have your Uncle’s infinite patience—though I guess he had a lot of practice dealing with you before he started the Praxeum.”

Rey found herself laughing, catching Ben’s smile when he turned around to face them. “So,” she prodded hesitantly. “I’m allowed to go off-planet whenever I like?”

“Well, within reason. You don’t have to fill out any requisition forms,” Ezra teased with a grin. “But it’d be courteous of you to inform one of the masters where you’re going and when you’ll likely be back.”

She thought of retrieving Finn as soon as they were back in the hangar at the Praxeum, but balked at the thought of immediately flying off and leaving Kira alone, again.

Come back! the child in her memory wailed.

“You’re welcome to any of the ships in the hangar, just not Luke’s X-wing and this transport,” Ezra added with a wink.

“If you can get one of those ships off the ground, you’re welcome to it,” Ben amended, lightning-quick.

She chuckled, pushing aside her unease. “Now I know why all the ships are barely space-worthy.”

Ezra raised his hands as though caught. “The truth comes out.”

The thought of freedom to come and go from the Praxeum filled her with excitement, something warm rising along her spine. The faces of her friends and the plans she had begun to set into motion seemed to float before her very eyes, as though she were finally making some kind of progress in the past. A sense of hope.

Chapter 8: The Saber

Chapter Text

For a moment, Luke thought the child in front of him was a miniature version of his sister. Ben had clearly gotten ahold of the girl’s hair, twisting them into the familiar buns reserved for unmarried Alderaanian princesses, though hers were much smaller. Despite the eerie resemblance to his twin, the girl’s face was a carbon copy of Rey’s, her garb dirty, ripped, and sand-worn rather than Leia’s pristine silky white dress.

Luke looked up from the child, eyes landing on Rey, then Ben, then Ezra—all of whom found the distant floors and walls of the hangar suddenly interesting. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his mechno-hand, glutton for punishment since it was obvious the Force hated him. “I’m going to close my eyes, and when I count to one, someone better explain. One—”

“I asked Master Bridger to take me to Jakku but I didn’t tell him why until we were there—I couldn’t leave my sister behind,” Rey blurted out, impassioned, and Luke’s eyes flew open.

“‘Sister’?” He glanced back down at the little womp rat whose fierce frowning had her face all scrunched up. Luke’s lips twitched, it was adorable. He wanted to ask if she wasn’t a little short to be a Jedi, but bit his tongue—it wouldn’t do for the girl’s first impression of a Jedi Master to be one of mockery, no matter how light-hearted. After all, he had an image to maintain, and joking around would definitely not lend itself well to the ‘Stoic All-Knowing Master Jedi’ persona he had been cultivating the last two decades.

However, the more pressing matter was the fact that Rey was lying—that much was obvious even if he didn’t have the Force clanging discordantly in his mind every time she did so. Luke had to wonder what his future self had done to warrant such a lack of trust from Rey—that she would think for even the briefest moment that he would believe the banthash*t that had just come out of her mouth. A quick glance at Ezra and gentle prodding through their Bond confirmed that he too had sensed the deception.

“And you went along with it?” Luke asked him, continuing the thread of their non-verbal conversation aloud.

Ezra shrugged. “I was curious.”

Luke huffed, though he did not admit that he was also curious. The Force was delighting in throwing impossible anomalies his way this past month and a half. If Luke and the other masters could only speculate that Rey was from the future based on her memories, then the introduction of her ‘sister’ solidified the theory in Luke’s mind.

Despite the fact that they sported different hairstyles, the girls were the same, physically and in the Force—though their signatures were identical on the surface, there were minute threads of difference from the connection between Rey and Ben. There was a bit of the girl in Ben as well, though not as strong—continuing the puzzling mystery of his nephew’s connection to them. More concerning was how the girl’s Force signature was like a candle at the end of its wick, flame flickering in the encroaching darkness. If she weren’t standing before him, he would have thought the signature belonged to a person taking their last gasping breaths. Something shattering must have happened to isolate her from the Force—looking to Ezra, he realized he had come to the same conclusion, an answer as to why Luke and the other masters had never found Rey before now.

“Kira,” Rey introduced. “This is Jedi Master Luke Skywalker.”

Something in her words seemed almost mocking, though her expression appeared solemn and respectful. Maybe it was a reflection of his psyche, that he no longer believed he was a true Jedi Master—he didn’t want to even begin to unpack that, despite Ezra’s waves of affirmation, this moment was not about him. Luke knelt before the girl-that-was-definitely-not-Rey-according-to-Rey-who-infamously-never-lied and offered her a warm smile. “Hello Kira, welcome to the Praxeum.”

“What’s a Praxeum?”

“A school,” Luke explained. “For anyone who wants to learn how to use the Force and what the Force is.”

“What is the Force?”

Luke smiled cryptically. “That’s the right question. It’ll be your first lesson. I’m sure you’ll get along well with the other younglings.”

Kira looked immensely dissatisfied with his response, further cementing the identical similarities between the ‘sisters.’

When he straightened, he turned his attention on Rey.

“Did you at least make it to Jedha and get your crystal?”

Rey nodded, her eyes bright. “Yes, Master. I constructed it on the way here.”

“Good, let’s go to the Masters’ Chamber. Ben can you get Kira settled in the youngling dormitory?”

When the girl balked at the idea of separation, Rey put a soothing hand on top of her head. “I won’t be long, and then I can show you all around the school tomorrow. Promise.”

Kira’s large brown eyes scanned Rey’s face for any sign of deception—she was extremely attached, Luke noted with some worry. It would take many lessons and much time to dissuade her of the habit. Love was not forbidden amongst the Jedi at the Praxeum—quite the opposite, as Luke encouraged his students to create and foster bonds with each other and their families. But the level of distrust and fear that surrounded the girl was almost tangible, leaving a shivering trail of discord down Luke’s spine—a feeling he had not experienced since being in the Emperor’s presence years ago. From Ben’s uncomfortable expression, he could sense it as well.

“You and I still need to talk,” Luke told Ben before he could leave the hangar, trying to keep his tone light—Ben was always nervous whenever Luke was serious. “Join me in the Chamber afterward.” His nephew nodded before taking Kira’s tiny hand within his own.

Luke held out his hand to Rey whose brow furrowed before she hesitantly placed her hand in his, her skin warm against his rough palm. Ezra’s poorly-concealed snort and Luke’s fondly exasperated expression had her cheeks burning, her embarrassment ringing out in the Force as she withdrew her hand faster than a sand viper. “Your saber,” Luke prompted.

“Right,” she mumbled, biting her lip hard as she fumbled in her satchel for her newly-constructed saber. Once she handed over the saberstaff, he guided them both to the Chamber atop the Praxeum.

His eyes roved over the long hilt and curious design. “Describe the experience,” Luke prompted as they headed out of the hangar, the pit droids rushing forward to perform maintenance checks on the transport. “How did you feel as you were constructing your saber?”

Rey sat on her cot cross-legged, her hand outstretched over the parts scattered on the blanket. Ben had talked her through the basics of lightsaber construction, but it had all amounted to a vague ‘trust in the Force,’ which was rapidly becoming Rey’s least favorite instruction. She wondered if it was punishment for all her secrets. Ben had excitedly recounted some history, how some ancient sects of Jedi (before they had called themselves such) would bring their crystals to sabersmiths who constructed the weapons for them. The practice had fallen out of fashion—to Rey’s dismay, as she now had to meditate and ‘trust in the Force’ to guide her in constructing her own saber.

She meditated in long silence, having placed Kira in Ben’s care after the girl had worked up the bravery necessary to ask (demand) that he braid her hair as well. His baffled expression and the sight of the tall man being cowed by a tiny, underfed child was almost enough to distract her from her task.

Instead, Rey had retreated to the bowels of the ship to a workbench close to the engine with the tools she required to solder the two halves of her staff together. She had donned a pair of gloves and welding goggles before getting to work.

After smoothing the jagged faults on each piece, she had decided not to fuse them completely, joining them instead with a snap-hinge using an exhaust port from Kylo’s disassembled saber as the center piece, reinforcing the fixed center with parts of her staff she had removed when smoothing the edges. While she was mainly inspired by Jacen’s twist-and-lock design, she could not deny that the nightmare-vision in the caves had also driven her towards recreating the saber she had fought against.

I must not fear, she had told herself—and she would not fear the darkness nor the Sith as long as the power she had remained in her hands. Her saber would be a reflection of that defiant resolve.

The Force made physical, a Jedi is, a wizened voice lectured in her mind. The heart of the lightsaber, the crystal is, he went on.

She shut her eyes as she poured her essence and self into the Force through her meditation, picturing the saberstaff as it would be in her mind’s eye; willing her hope, determination, and love into the crystal as it hovered at the center of the floating parts. She did not demand or beg anything of the Force, only asking that it aid her in the perilous undertaking of altering the past with the tools necessary to accomplish the task. The crystal hummed into a crescendo in the Force, a pulsing wave of sentience and life emanating from it, a heart—her heart—awakened—before it split in two equal halves. It seemed like only moments before she heard the gentle clinking of the metallic parts as they self-assembled, a heavy weight dropping lightly into her outstretched hand.

This weapon is your life, a man with an accent like hers whispered as Rey held the saber with a delicate reverence. She ran her fingers over each hilt, the brown ridged leather wound around each side of the staff, shining metallic casing interspersed with older and matte pieces like a patchwork, not covering up her original staff, but enhancing it. The emitter on one side was a sharp curve like a rising wave, while the other was a rounded with teeth pointed at the center of the emitter like a crown. The crystals harmonized in the Force from each end of the saberstaff. Her thumb brushed over the activator but, recalling Ben’s warning, did not ignite her saber.

“Normally, you’d present your lightsaber to a Master for inspection—helps reduce…” Ben had trailed off, a pained expression on his face.

“Explosions?” Rey had guessed.

“More or less. It’s dangerous to ignite if you’ve incorrectly assembled your saber—the crystal could explode. It’s rare though, and as long as you’ve communed with the Force during its construction it should be sound, however…”

“I’ll wait till we get back to the Praxeum then,” Rey had assented with a grim nod.

Luke nodded after he completed his inspection of her saberstaff through the Force (and meditation, of course). “It’s a good saber, strong in the Force and its construction.”

Rey gently accepted the weapon and his praise with hot cheeks. “Thank you, Master Skywalker.”

The three of them sat on the comfortably fluffy meditation pillows they’d dragged to the center of the Masters’ Chamber. She was grateful the process was informal and they sat beside her rather than looming over her from their chairs. The dying sunset cast the room aflame in a swath of orange and red. In the distance, the local flying fauna sang a soft melody to herald the night.

“Are you ready to ignite it?” Ezra’s smile was infectious, his anticipation reaching a fever pitch in the Force.

Rey hesitated for only a moment, an irrational thought flitting through her mind—what if her blades were red like the vision in the caves? Would Luke declare her an undeniable Sith and strike her down immediately? Skywalker’s eyes were pensive and Rey worried he could hear her thoughts—he must feel her fear, she reasoned. His face was shadowed and difficult to read as the final rays of light vanished over the horizon.

I must not fear.

She exhaled before thumbing the switch and the twin blades burst forth from each emitter like a cresting wave.

“Wizard,” Ezra nodded with a satisfied smile. “I didn’t know lightsabers came in that color.”

“Neither did I,” Rey mumbled, eyes wide.

“It’s not a common color,” Luke explained, his tone emotionless as he observed the weapon.

The blades cast a soft amethyst glow across their faces.

Rey wondered what it meant, to have an uncommon plasma. She had only ever seen blue or green blades, with Quis Tor’s orange blade being the odd exception. “Do the colors mean different things in the Force?” She felt foolish for asking—it seemed like it would be common knowledge amongst the Padawans and younglings. She switched her saber off and returned it to rest in her lap, extended hilts across her knees. In the twilight darkness of the room, Ezra flicked a hand and an unseen switch powered the warm lights the Jedi had likely installed after integrating into the Praxeum.

“A lightsaber is a reflection of its Jedi,” Luke began after stroking his beard for a few moments. “Blue indicates those who prize justice and protecting others—Jedi Guardians.”

Rey thought of Ben, her stomach fluttering with a feeling she could not name. His saber had been blue before…

Luke carried on, oblivious to her thoughts. “Green for those who value learning, meditation, and knowledge of the living Force—known as Jedi Consulars.”

That made sense for Luke, though Ezra did not seem to strike her as the type to meditate more than necessary.

“Yellow is a bit uncommon these days. They were carried by Jedi Sentinels, protectors of the Force and temples.” He paused as he raised his cup to sip some more tea. The unspoken implication hung between them, no more temples, no more Jedi Sentinels.

Ezra leaned forward. “Those are some of the traditional ones. There are, of course, various shades that derive from those colors, darker or lighter shades of blue or green, or a blend between.”

“Do only the Sith have red sabers?” Rey prompted, thinking of Kylo’s crackling burning blade.

Luke sighed as he set his cup down. “The kyber in Sith lightsabers have been…bled.” At her frown, he went on to clarify, “Tortured until it essentially gives in to the dark side, changing the plasma from whatever its original color was to red.”

A profound sadness blanketed the trio, the Force mourning for the kyber that had suffered until they bent to the will of the Sith. Her brows pinched together as she thought of Kylo, who had not been a Sith, and wondered if his kyber had submitted to the dark side completely.

“And…purple?” Rey’s voice was small, almost afraid to ask.

Luke’s cerulean eyes seemed to peer into her soul. “Ambiguity. A blend of dark and light.”

Powerful light, powerful darkness, Luke’s voice echoed from the future.

“A balance,” she whispered, eyes on her saber, her fingers almost white from how tightly she was gripping it.

To her surprise, Luke nodded. “True enough. Now, you should get some rest—you’ve had a rough two weeks. Tomorrow you can take your saberstaff out for a test run against Pela and the others.”

She could feel Ben approach the Chamber, his trepidation at the impeding conversation with his uncle palpable through their Bond. Rey lingered, despite the dismissal. Luke co*cked his head.

“Something else?”

“I was wondering if…is there only one kyber for every person in the galaxy? Even twins?”

The masters exchanged a knowing glance before Luke explained, “Well, not every person in the galaxy—only those attuned to the Force—but more or less. Twins, even identical ones, don’t share the same signature. It’s the Force that determines your crystal, so if you happen to lose or break your current saber, you’d have to return to a kyber source and find another.”

The muscles in Rey’s chest relaxed as she exhaled the breath she had been holding, hoping that she had not stolen her younger self’s crystal. She smiled gratefully before rising to bow before them, imitating the younglings who had bowed to Pela after her lesson. “Thank you, Master.”

She found Ben hovering by the open window, his anxiety causing her own nerves to fray through their Bond. He turned when she exited the Chamber.

I feel the conflict within you, her own, determined voice. I’ll help you…

Rey strode forward and took his free hand in her own.

“It’ll be fine. Just talk to him about your fears,” she whispered, despite the fact that Luke could not hear them. Ben’s gaze fell on her lips as she spoke before looking back into her eyes. He nodded, resolute. He did not argue this time around that he was without fear.

Ezra left the Chamber then, his thick eyebrow quirking when his gaze landed on their hands. He said nothing and continued down the hall, his steps jovial and light.

“Go on,” Rey prompted Ben towards his uncle, wondering why she felt a hollowness in her chest when he released her hand.

Once in her room, it was difficult for Rey to sleep when Ben’s distress was like a beacon in their Bond. She had dozed for minutes between his bouts of panic and anxiety before they flared up once more. It seemed the conversation between uncle and nephew was long overdue if they were still talking hours later. A dark creature swam beneath the surface of their Bond, agitating both of them. It was extremely displeased and Rey felt anger swell in her chest before she dispelled the unbidden emotion.

“I will have him,” the creature growled, its voice like jagged glass scraping along her spine. “The dyad will be mine…”

Rey jolted awake, unaware that she had even fallen asleep for a few heartbeats. She could not shake the image of the burning temple at the center of a city, its five spires like fingers outstretched to the sky. There was a strange pull in the Force, but she was reluctant to return to the nightmare and the many-eyed alien haunting her and Ben.

She tried to put up mental walls but had no idea how. She had only done it once, after Crait and even then it was only for a brief time. Yet another thing added to her lengthening list. Kira snuggled against her insistently, and Rey envied the girl her oblivious dreamless sleep. When Rey returned to her room after Master Skywalker had judged her saber, she had been surprised to find her younger self burrowed underneath her cover, waiting for her return. Too tired and emotional to wonder how she had found her room, Rey had slipped into the bed and pulled Kira to her as she attempted to sleep.

Rey cradled her cheek in her palm as she leaned on the window sill, tracking the movement of the moons as they danced across the inky canvas that slowly lightened to grey as time pressed forward, uncaring if she hadn’t slept. She thought of Finn and Jannah, alone and apart, of Rose and Kaydel and the rest—their younger selves running around the galaxy. She wanted to find them all and gather them around her and protect them from the horrors of the First Order. It was at some point between midnight and dawn that she finally felt a catharsis, Ben’s presence in the Force stable and calm with none of the erratic energy that had sometimes clouded his signature, a star that had been on the cusp of supernova saved from collapse. The corner of her lips tugged as she smiled lazily. She could finally sleep.

Kira hadn’t stirred and the both of them slept well past morning if the sun’s position in the sky was any indication. A soft knock had roused them, Kira’s tiny fist connecting painfully with Rey’s chin as she stretched suddenly. Rey groaned as she rolled out of the bed, stumbling to the door.

Ben raised an eyebrow when he took her in—she was undoubtedly a mess, but he was no better, Rey thought. She noted the faint shadows under his dark eyes, though he was otherwise refreshed for the day. He held a tray of food, offering it to her. “You missed breakfast…sorry.”

She accepted the tray with a smirk before placing it on the bed with Kira whose eyes were wide at the selection. It would be a slow rehabilitation, but Rey was determined that Kira lead a better childhood than Rey had—when she could count her ribs as they strained against her sallow skin and her stomach had seemed like it was eating itself most days.

“Thank you,” Rey mumbled, shaking the unwanted memories away. As he watched Kira eat, Ben’s gaze was reminiscent of his mother’s when she had first observed Rey devour plates of Resistance food—slop, Poe and the others would call it, but to Rey it had been the best meal she’d had in ages. “How did it go?” she prompted, steering her meandering thoughts onto the correct flight path. She stood beside him in the hall, crossing her arms to ward off the chill of the Praxeum stone halls that retained temperature in a unique way, she had learned—hot when it was cold outside and vice versa.

Ben inhaled deeply before nodding staring, unfocused, at the ground over her shoulder. “You give good psychological advice…for a Sith.”

She scoffed and shoved him lightly with her elbow, earning her a huff of laughter from him.

“Again with the elbow,” he complained with a smile as he rubbed the spot on his stomach. They stepped closer to avoid collision from some younger Padawans tearing down the hall like a starfighter was on their ass.

Rey wanted to question him for hours, to uncover what he and Master Skywalker had discussed, but decided that it might be a tad invasive of her. After all, this Ben Solo had only known her for two standard months; and while she had known Kylo for years and Ben Solo for only moments before he…she felt as though she had known him all her life. She wondered if the nature of their Bond—their dyad…ness—had something to do with it.

He sobered after a moment, seemingly sensitive to her melancholy though not its origin. “Are you up to practice saber techniques today? Pela and the others are…”

Rey straightened. “Excited?”

“I think that would be an understatement.” He smiled again and Rey found herself transfixed, wanting to see him smile more.

“Yes, after Kira’s done, I’ll grab something from the refectory and meet Pela on the training grounds?”

He nodded. “See you then.”

Rey had gotten Kira settled with Ezra for orientation—at the girl’s request. Rey knew herself well enough that she didn’t trust Master Skywalker quite yet. She had known Ezra and Ben longer and was more at ease with them. Ezra had taken her to a room full of younglings in her age group, including Asha, Rey noted with relief. The girl’s smile was bright as she caught sight of Rey. Kira had balked at the idea of being around so many people, accustomed to the singular loneliness of the desert. But when Rey nodded and smiled, Kira gathered up the courage to enter the room and plop down onto a cushion, tugging and adjusting the Padawan robes in much the same manner Rey had when she first wore them. She lingered in the doorway to ensure her younger self was not too overwhelmed, listening to the Jedi discuss the Force with colorful metaphors involving animals and nature, delighting the younglings and capturing their attention. A small smile tugged at her lips—she could understand now why Master Bridger’s blade was green.

The other senior Padawans had gathered at the side of the training grounds when Rey had finally arrived after a small meal, eager to see her new saber and the ensuing fight. The Fayn twins lounged on the remnants of an ancient pillar where only the base remained standing a few feet tall; Quis and Tak were exchanging credits as they appeared to be laying down bets. Lorna smiled at Rey, her leg swaying lazily over the edge of the pillar. It had not seemed predatory, so Rey returned the smile.

Pela was warming up with Ben, their synchronous movements bringing them close together in a way that made Rey’s stomach constrict in what she had realized was envy. Well, they would make a handsome couple, she thought with only marginal reluctance. When Ben spotted her, his moment of distraction cost him as Pela quickly disarmed and pulled him bodily over her shoulder with unexpected strength. He landed with a heavy thud, his body kicking up dust as he fought to catch his breath.

The weapons master leaned over him. “Pay attention.” She turned to approach Rey with a dazzling smile. “Ready, Padawan?”

Rey felt her cheeks grow hot under the weapon master’s intense gaze but she nodded and internally chastised herself for her own distraction—though she wondered if Pela would toss her around as well. Tak laughed as he offered Ben a hand, pulling him up with a great heave after digging his feet in, the Twi’lek slight and short compared to the human.

Rey quickly shed her outer layers; it was uncharacteristically hot despite the time of day—she couldn’t imagine how the Fayn twins could stand the heat in their layers of black cloth, though the Mirialans looked unbothered. She thought perhaps the planet was tilting on its axis as the warmer months approached. Rey was hardly the only person on the training grounds half-dressed when she stood in her breastband and pants that ended at her knees. While Rey was unashamed of her body, she felt insecure standing before Pela's muscled physique on full display as she too stripped down. When she felt Ben’s desire through the Bond once again, she was unsure who it was directed at.

Exhaling a short breath, Rey unclipped her saberstaff, holding it out before her, parallel to the ground, as she entered a defensive stance. Pela quirked an eyebrow at her first move and Rey wondered if she’d made a mistake. She could sense the other senior Padawans on the sidelines—their anticipation like a thin string pulled taut. Ah, Rey realized then what they had bet on. With a smirk, she ignited her saber and relished in their collective noises of disappointment. She couldn’t linger in her amusem*nt for long as Pela charged her to test out the saber.

Rey moved with a fluidity she had not felt since she had her staff on Jakku, fighting off other scavengers and would-be assailants. Her fight with Pela now was different than their initial spar—her kyber sang with her movements, enhancing her connection to the Force and strengthening her blows. Despite the extra reach the saberstaff afforded Rey, Pela was undaunted and easily danced around her. When Pela aimed for her thigh, Rey twisted, allowing the bottom blade to block before she swung her saber on its hinge, bringing up and trapping Pela’s blade between both of hers. The others whooped from the sidelines, their surprise and jubilation buoying her in the Force. The weapon master’s eyes were wide for only a moment before she collected herself and quickly maneuvered away, signaling for Ben to join the fray.

Despite not getting enough sleep, Rey felt energized on the field as she easily parried Ben’s saber and leapt over Pela’s downward slash. The other woman laughed, vindicated in her instruction.

“I knew you’d take to a staff!”

After the lengthy spar, Pela put a sweaty arm around Rey’s neck. “Not bad, but still got a long way to go, young Padawan. And a very interesting design, I must say. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a saberstaff quite like yours.”

The others were crowded around the ruined pillar in a loose circle, arguing. Pela headed for her gear, grabbing a spare towel and tossing it at Rey.

“Kark,” Quis murmured as they all looked at one another in confusion.

“What did Jacen have?” Tak asked as he counted the credits in his red palm.

“Black,” Lorna scoffed.

Rey’s eyebrows shot up as she rubbed her neck with the towel. “I didn’t know lightsabers came in that color.” Then again, she hadn’t known that purple was an option either.

“Only one blade has ever had that plasma,” Pela explained as she dabbed her face with a towel before rubbing it through her close-cropped hair. “The Darksaber.”

The gravitas she imbued into the name gave Rey chills.

Many Jedi have died upon its blade, a man’s voice echoed through the Force, filled with malice and murderous intent. Despite the heat, Rey shivered, attempting to dispel the sudden nausea that overcame her as the Force despaired over the Darksaber.

“What happens now if none of us was right?” Quis’s voice grounded her in the present, hands on his hips.

“Isn’t it Ben?” Pela spoke, clutching the ends of her towel around her neck, her chest rising and falling with less rapidity as she caught her breath.

All eyes turned to Ben who was pointedly ignoring them as he downed water from his canteen. It was difficult to know whether the red that colored his neck and cheeks were from the spar or sudden attention.

“Ben didn’t lay down a claim,” Lorrik pointed out, his tone making it clear what he thought of Ben’s lack of participation.

“Well, when he got back he told me he guessed it would be purple,” Pela justified, crossing her arms and raising a challenging eyebrow at the others.

“That doesn’t count—he’s basically cheating because he went with her to Jedha,” Tak complained, waving a dismissive hand, jostling the credits clutched therein.

Lorna clicked her tongue. “Only the masters would have seen it. She wouldn’t have activated her saber until she got back, fedejik.”

“Lorna,” Pela chastised, eyeing the youngling stragglers halfway across the fields. The Mirialan rolled her eyes.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t in on the bet,” Ben raised his hands diplomatically. “I’m sure you’ll all find something else to bet on.”

“Pff. One you definitely won’t be in on,” Quis murmured quietly to Tak who snorted.

“Well, I want in too,” Rey spoke up, hands on her hips, trying not to wince at the damp fabric that had soaked up the sweat from her torso.

Tak eyed Quis nervously. “Uh, yeah definitely, once we have another pool going, we’ll let you know.”

Rey felt his lie in the Force and narrowed her eyes at them. They had another one going already.

Pela waved a hand. “Just don’t let the masters catch you—again.” When she noticed Rey’s inquisitive expression she chuckled. “Master Kestis cleaned them out last time. Poor sods.”

“How could he have known it was thirteen!” Tak’s disbelief was drowned out by the others groaning—a long-running complaint from the Twi’lek it seemed.

“My advice?” Pela shrugged as she shouldered her gear, “Never underestimate the masters.” She gave the group a heavy look, “They always find out what you’re hiding. Always.”

Rey felt her earlier joy and adrenaline from the fight fade like a leaf on the wind, her smile slowly dying on her lips.

Chapter 9: The Feast

Chapter Text

Kira had taken to following Rey around the Praxeum, much to Master Skywalker’s dismay. Rey had glimpsed his disgruntled expression more than once, but he had kept his distance rather than confront and upset the girl. Luckily for Rey, she had another youngling trailing her everywhere as well. The other day, Lorna had poked gentle fun at Rey for collecting a gaggle of them when Asha had brought along two friends to play with Kira and Rey had four younglings dogging her steps all day. Asha was a bright spark eager to always talk to or compliment Kira, wistfully congratulating her on having a sister like Rey.

At first, Rey had been baffled at the heap of praise the little Twi’lek had bestowed on her, wondering what had made her think such things. But Asha’s presence had been a boon, gently coaxing Kira away from Rey and her singular attachment. In the hangar, the girls giggled about something to do with hair and lekku. Rey lay on a hoverboard beneath one of the ships, tearing out the tubing that had rusted through with holes in too many places to patch. She chuckled when she felt the girls’ infectious mirth through the Force. Kira’s signature was still severely blocked, her unconscious barriers had walled off the Force and her connection to it—her presence nearly hidden unless one knew to look for it—but she was slowly opening up over the last three days she had been at the Praxeum. Rey was grateful Kira would not be subjected to an invasive and traumatic exploration of her mind in order to reawaken her connection to the Force.

R4 beeped from across the hangar—too silent without Jacen, Rey had decided, forlorn as she worked on repairing the ships. A ship was inbound, the droid had informed her, and Rey pushed against the ship until she was out from under it, the old hoverboard wobbling unsteadily as the anti-grav repulsors sputtered. She sat up, her legs dangling over the sides, frowning when R4 indicated the make and model—S-161, Stinger Mantis. Odd, it was not the transport Masters Tisar and Lorith had utilized to ferry Padawans to their families—they were due back today for the Feast that rounded out Family Week; nor was it the ship that Poe and Ahsoka had departed on—Rey worried for her friend and the Togruta master being gone for so long. Attempting to put into practice what she had learned in lessons alongside the other senior Padawans, allowing the worry to wash over her, passing the emotion into the Force. This sometimes worked with varying degrees of success.

Luke’s meditation sessions were still a chore for her to get through—though she was glad to note she was hardly the only Padawan drifting off to sleep when she spotted Quis dozing one day. Apart from practical applications of the Force—floating rocks, she had noted with a smirk—she found herself more eager for lectures on Jedi history and the Force from Masters Kestis and Bridger, which always culminated in lively theoretical discussions and case studies. The difference in their teaching philosophies was clear as night and day, with Ezra preferring to lecture outside—amongst nature and the planet’s fauna—or while walking, and even once while sparring. Cal’s upbringing in the Jedi Temple made itself evident in his teaching style—a room in the Praxeum where they were all seated in a circle as he lectured.

As though summoned by her thoughts, Master Kestis had entered the hangar then, smoothing down his tunic and brushing back his hair. BD-1 conspicuously absent from his shoulder. Rey raised an eyebrow and he started when he noticed her, a sheepish expression on his face. The girls had fallen silent, Kira eyeing Cal in much the same way as Master Skywalker.

“Rey,” he nodded, “Uh, how are you?” His eyes darted between her and the incoming ship as it grew larger in the bright morning sky. She could feel his anticipation and it was almost enough to make her smile; she’d never seen Master Kestis in such a state.

“I presume you know who this is? I didn’t recognize the designation, though I assume they’re friendlies if they have clearance to land.”

“Well, we don’t really do clearance codes around here or—”

“Any kind of security at all to prevent unwanted visitors,” she interrupted with a scowl. Rey was incredulous at the lack of oversight from the masters on this matter. She’d have to bring it up to Master Skywalker as soon as possible, likely between his meditation sessions with Ben.

“Only a select few know our coordinates,” Cal amended quickly in an attempt to appease her rising anger. “This planet is uncharted and we’re the only inhabitants.”

You think that I came to the most unfindable place in the galaxy for no reason at all? Go away, Master Skywalker’s bitter entreaty echoed in her mind. It seemed he had already developed an affinity to the hermit lifestyle long before Ahch-To, she thought wryly as she hopped onto a crate to watch the Mantis land.

It was an elegant ship, despite its age, though Rey took note of the laser cannons and some old ion scoring along the hull. When the ramp lowered, a pale woman wrapped in layers of red and grey strode down it with sure steps, her gold bracelets jingling lightly with the movement. When she spotted Cal, she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck before kissing him deeply, running her fingers through the hair he had just finished fixing.

Rey’s eyebrows flew up at the display. She heard Kira and Asha tittering from wherever they were hiding.

When the woman finally pulled away, Cal’s face was as red as his rumpled hair.

“Hi,” he greeted breathlessly with a shy smile, warmth in his voice.

“Hello my Jedi,” she responded with a smirk on her dark lips, her accent heavy on the consonants.

“Oh, good to see you reunited and very busy not helping us unload the ship,” a Latero complained loudly as he descended the ramp, two of his four arms carrying a crate of supplies. Behind him, a lithe humanoid woman with dark skin and long, braided black hair followed, a smirk on her lips.

“Cal,” she nodded at the Jedi before her gaze landed on Rey, open curiosity on her face. “New recruit?”

Rey nodded, setting down the hydrospanner and sliding off the crate to greet the woman. “Rey,” she held out her hand and the woman grasped it, her grip firm and palm warm. There were strands of silver woven through her thick braids and Rey could feel the power that radiated off her.

“Cere Junda,” she introduced.

“And I’m the kriffin’ Chancellor,” the Latero interrupted, his irritation reverberating through the Force. “Can we move this along please?”

“That’s Greez,” Cere stuck her thumb over her shoulder at the alien who had already retreated up the ramp. “I would say he’s not normally such a grump, but I’d be lying.”

“Are you a Jedi?” Rey enquired neutrally, unwilling to badmouth a stranger, no matter that Cere’s signature in the Force was relaxed and calm.

Cere smiled warmly, though there was pain hidden behind her eyes. “I was,” came her clipped response.

Rey scrunched the hem of her sleeveless tunic between thumb and forefinger, worried that she had offended the woman already. She gestured vaguely in Kira’s hidden direction, “My sister and I are still new to the Praxeum, I’m sorry Master Cere if I…”

“I’m not…” Cere’s smile faded as her face suddenly seemed to age a decade in a moment. “I don’t teach anymore. I consult.”

“Forgive me…Cere,” Rey nodded, recalling Ahsoka’s words—it seemed ‘Force users’ outnumbered ‘Jedi’ in this period of history. A part of her was extremely disgruntled at that fact as she wondered why the kriff it had been so difficult for her and Finn to find Force sensitives in the future when there was a planet full of them right here.

“You did nothing wrong my dear.” Cere’s smile returned. “I’m going to help Greez with off-loading, but we’ll see you and your sister at the Feast tonight.”

As soon as she had ascended the ramp, a ruckus behind Rey drew her attention—as well as Cal and the pale woman who both turned to observe Kira fighting with a pit droid over a particularly shiny ship piece, Asha hovering between them, tiny hands held aloft as if willing the conflict to stop.

Before Rey could step forward to persuade her (again) that she no longer needed to scavenge for rations, the woman disentangled herself from Cal, turning a critical eye on Kira.

“And what,” she enunciated as she approached, “are you?”

The pit droid gave up on wrestling the piece away from the scavenger, squeaking insults as it returned to its duties. Triumphant, her younger self addressed the woman looming over her. “I’m Kira.”

Hands on her hips, she quirked a brow. “What is a kira?”

“My name.”

“Ah, I am Merrin. Cal Kestis’s lover.”

“M-Merrin,” Cal choked, red blooming across his face. “W-wife—Merrin is my wife,” he amended, flustered.

The pale woman nodded as though remembering a conversation about the matter, though the corner of her lips seemed to twitch in stifled amusem*nt.

Rey hid a laugh behind her hand, uncaring that she was smearing grease on her face.

“You are a Jedi?” Merrin turned her attention back on Kira who scrunched her nose.

“Not really. I think. I don’t really know.”

“It is okay to not know, little Jedi.” She smiled warmly and Rey could feel Kira’s joy in the Force, faint, but simmering beneath the surface. Asha took Kira’s hand and both girls smiled. “One day you will find your path, as Cal Kestis did,” Merrin carried on.

Ezra strolled into the hangar with a device in hand, frowning at it as he called out, “Hey Rey, can you—oh,” he broke off when he noticed the group gathered. “Merrin, what a nice surprise. What’re you doing here?” He tossed the device at the same pit droid who eagerly began to work on the defect. He nodded in greeting at Greez who had just dumped another crate on the hoversled with a scowl.

“It is Family Week, Bridger, and Cal Kestis is mine.”

Ezra smirked knowingly, raising a thick eyebrow at Merrin. “And you’re not here to torture the Padawans in the Gauntlet?”

Rey didn’t like the sound of that.

“I’m just here for the food,” Greez said with a wicked smile.

Merrin crossed her arms, gold bracelets clinking together with the movement, her nose in the air. “If Skywalker wishes for me to utilize my magick with the younglings, then who am I to withhold such vital training from them?”

“You’re magick?” Kira’s eyes were wide and bright as she tugged on the woman’s red tunic to draw her attention back. Asha was not as awestruck and Rey deduced it was not her first time seeing the woman.

“I am a Witch of Dathomir,” Merrin’s voice seemed to suddenly sound like many. “A Nightsister,” she announced with great aplomb, tossing her silver hair over one shoulder, basking in the girl’s awe.

Rey realized with a start that Merrin was a Zabrak, the grey markings along her alabaster skin were not some sort of cosmetic application. Rey had never seen a female of the species before, much less a mythical Nightsister. She was curious as to how her magick differed from the Jedi and the Force, resolving to question the woman about it at some point during her stay.

Cal’s gaze on his wife was soft and she could feel the waves of warmth radiating from him. Rey looked away, suddenly feeling as though she shouldn’t witness such blatant love between two beings. Absurdly, she thought of Ben in that moment and how little she had seen of him over the last few days, busy as he was with his Uncle, meditating and discussing the issues between them, foregoing classes with the other senior Padawans for private instruction. She had felt his discomfort when he and Luke had argued about something the other day, but his own mental walls were stronger and more developed than hers, keeping her from the details of the conversation.

At first, Rey worried about the slight rift between uncle and nephew, hearing Luke’s strained words from another future echo in her mind, Ben, no! as the last shred of familial bond and trust between them had shattered like the stones of his room in the Praxeum. Rey steeled herself, that future would not come to pass—not anymore. Ben Solo would not fall—it was the lynchpin of this entire endeavor, his fall causing such a devastating ripple effect throughout the galaxy that even the Force believed it needed correcting.

Merrin turned her attention on Rey, co*cking her head as she observed her. Rey’s stomach twisted, worried she had been projecting into the Force—could a Nightsister even sense the Force in the same way as a Jedi? Rey felt the hairs on her arm stand on end as the witch seemed to peer into her soul. “You do not belong,” she concluded simply. Rey exhaled in a huff, attempting to feign amusem*nt before Cal strode forward with hurried steps.

“Why don’t we get settled in, hm?” He steered his wife away from the anomaly in the Force—the impossibility that was time travel and Rey was grateful for it. She did not think she would be able to fool a Nightsister.

Pela’s words rang out in her mind—the masters would find out, eventually. Surely Cal had glimpsed the truth from her Force echo, though whether or not he informed the other masters was unclear. If he had, Luke and the others had not confronted her and she could only wonder why. She would gain no answers the longer she danced around them withholding the truth.

After their morning lessons had concluded, Jacen had surprised them at lunch, strolling into the nearly-empty refectory with his arms aloft. “Fear not my friends, your prime leader has returned to take his rightful place amongst you,” he loudly announced, a bright smile on his face. The other senior Padawans scoffed and groaned, returning to their food with only Pela welcoming him back genuinely. “Mom dropped me off early, what did I miss?” He slid onto the bench between the Mirialans, slapping Lorrik’s back. When he spotted Rey, he perked up, “Oh, what color—”

“Purple,” Quis interrupted with a sardonic smile.

“Shab.” He dug around for credits in his robes before Tak put up a hand.

“No one won the pot, so no need to pay up.”

Jacen laughed. “What, none of us? I’m really disappointed in you guys—at least I guessed a plausible color—no one had purple?”

“Black is not a plausible color,” Lorna argued with a frown, pulling her tray away from Jacen as his hand crept towards her leftover food.

“Ben guessed purple,” Pela insisted with a shrug.

“What?” Jacen’s head snapped in her direction. “Since when was Benny in on bets?”

“He claims he wasn’t,” Lorrik added before taking another bite of his food.

Ben’s absence from the group was more pronounced now than when they had first sat down to eat. Rey’s shoulders slumped, wondering why he had become withdrawn—socially and in their Bond.

After a beat of silence, Jacen spoke, “All right, so no one wins.” He pocketed his meagre credits with a sigh of relief. It must have been a high stakes pool, Rey thought. He suddenly yawned, unable to stifle it, his mouth wide, revealing his sharp teeth. “What time is it? It was night when we left—I hate the readjustment period.” He crossed his arms and leaned against Lorrik to nap.

“Why don’t you readjust on the flight over?” Rey leaned forward, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth.

“You try sharing a confined space with a Lasat and see if you can regulate your sleep,” he challenged, shivering at the memory.

“Jay,” Ezra had spotted him and was making his way over to their table, thick brow furrowed. “Hera said you guys ran into trouble on the way?”

Jacen nodded lazily and did not open his eyes. “Imps terrorizing the spacelane and we helped out, but that meant Masters Tisar and Lorith had to go the long way around to get back. Dameron here yet? He was right behind us.”

“Poe?” Rey said aloud, blushing when the others turned their gaze on her.

“Thanks buddy, I’ll check out the hangar. Get some rest.” Ezra clapped a hand on Jacen’s shoulder, jostling him off of Lorrik where he bumped into Lorna who shoved him away.

Jacen grumbled at the rough treatment. “This is no way to treat a future master.”

Rey casually turned on the bench, preparing to leave without drawing attention, a plan already formulating. It would be perfect—who better to retrieve Finn than the one who found him in the first place? She avoided Pela’s inquisitive gaze she casually slipped away, the others busy arguing and hazing Jacen.

She caught up to Ezra easily, though when she hesitated in her stride, unsure of whether or not to match his pace or linger back awkwardly, he glanced over his shoulder—sensing her dilemma through the Force. “You coming to the hangar?”

Rey nodded and easily matched his stride when he slowed for her to catch up. “Is there trouble on the space routes? Is the Praxeum in any danger?”

She did not miss his momentary hesitation before he responded. “No, but it’s not a good sign for anyone if Imps have gathered enough firepower to stake out the lanes. We won’t know more until Tisar and Lorith return with the rest of the younglings, hopefully by tonight.”

Rey bit her lip as she considered the problem of the First Order. While everyone thought them Imperial Remnants, she knew that they were budding First Order troops and ships with shadowy benefactors and resources to rival the New Republic. Though perhaps the First Order and Imperial Remnants could be considered the same thing what with their near-fanatical drive to resurrect their Emperor and desire to rule the galaxy with an iron fist. Ben—her Ben—had put a stop to that, at great cost. When Ezra glanced at her, she realized she had been projecting her grief, hastily reining in her emotions—though even that had piqued his curiosity as she had withdrawn much too quickly to be considered innocuous. Thankfully, he did not question her, his concern now focused on the delayed transport.

When they entered the hangar, R2 was arguing with R4 about transmissions and crossed wires, their electro probes brandished. Ezra skipped forward hastily with hands aloft. “Hey, hey, break it up. Did Poe check in?”

Both astromechs beeped over each other, R2 shaking on his struts in anger as he threatened R4 with terribly foul language. Rey’s eyebrows shot up and she snorted before she could restrain herself. The R2 she’d known had never been quite so colorful with its vocabulator lexicon. Ezra sighed deeply, hands on his hips as he shot both droids a disappointed look.

“You’re lucky Luke isn’t here to rewire—”

“You’re delusional if you think Luke hasn’t programmed some of those words into my database!”

“Well, we’re both lucky Luke isn’t here then,” Ezra huffed, a touch child-like in his retort. “The transmission if you please?”

“Taught that boy everything he knows—his father too,” R2 droned on, wheeling around Ezra and purposefully bumping against R4 as he rolled past.

“Artoo,” Ezra warned and the droid blinked his lights at him innocently.

“Am I just a simple messenger? Perhaps. It has saved the galaxy before…”

“Artoo,” Ezra lunged forward to manually override the droid’s transmission system before he wheeled away with a shriek.

“I am a war veteran with no respect from organics!”

Rey watched, amused, the smile slipping off her face when she spotted Poe’s ship come in to land.

“Quit acting like Chopper or I’ll have you disassembled!” Ezra’s voice echoed from somewhere in the hangar, the master and droid hidden from view.

She waited impatiently for the ship’s landing sequence to complete before she rushed forward, cornering Poe as soon as he descended the ramp. He staggered back against the landing strut when she appeared at his side. He let out a nervous laugh, rubbing his bruised elbow.

“Uh, hi, Rey, didn’t see you there…” He nodded at Ezra when he noticed him emerge from around the old U-wing. “You guys got my message?”

Ezra scoffed bitterly, rubbing at his thigh where a conspicuous singe had appeared in his pants.

“Just tell me the transport is all right?”

Poe nodded quickly. “Routine detour,” he assured.

Ezra glanced at Rey. “Seems to be going around. Any ETA?”

The pilot leaned from side to side, running the numbers. “Maybe a couple hours?”

The master seemed relieved, the tension in his broad shoulders easing at the news. “All right, and you have their new hailing frequency just in case?”

Finally, something Rey was familiar with—it was the same tactic the Resistance used whenever they encountered First Order trouble—shuffle the frequencies and rendezvous at one of the safe houses on planets sympathetic to their cause; rest and resupply, then rejoin the fleet, hopping from base to base. While the First Order had floundered after Snoke’s death and the destruction of their prized flagship, they were quick to reorganize under new leadership—a deeply unpleasant man named Hux, Poe had informed her once she’d rejoined them after Crait.

“Not to worry Master Bridger, they’ll make it home safe.” Poe’s voice drew her back into the present.

Ezra returned the smile after a moment, nodding to Rey before he departed the hangar, his signature in the Force muddled with concern.

Rey returned her attention on Poe now that they were alone. “I need a favor, you’re the only one who can help,” she announced without preamble.

“Sure.” Despite his readiness, she could feel his hesitation in the Force. “Can I uh, grab a bite to eat and maybe debrief Master Skywalker on the situation?”

Rey blinked, and it was then she noticed he was alone—she could not feel Ahsoka’s signature aboard the ship. “Is Master Tano—”

“She’s fine, just had to help out a friend after we left Lothal, so I dropped her off with General Syndulla.”

Rey’s heart rate slowly returned to normal and her shoulders dipped as the tense muscles relaxed. Ahsoka would be in safe hands. The scariest aspect of her foray into the past was not knowing the fates of so many people she had met here, Ahsoka and General Syndulla included. She could not plan contingencies nor direct them onto safer paths since she had never met them in her old life. She didn’t want to think about what that meant.

“Let’s go to the refectory and you can brief me on the way,” Poe mediated with an easy arm around her shoulders as they departed the hangar together.

For a moment, Rey thought she was back in the future she had left behind and her heart swelled with an emotion she was unwilling to let wash over her and release into the Force.

Dinner in the refectory was a lively affair, more so than usual, every table filled to the brim with students. The Feast had officially kicked off once the transport had arrived six hours after Poe, a little banged up but still serviceable. Rey and Jacen had promised to smooth out the issues before the next Family Week. Despite their close encounter with the Imps, the younglings and Padawans had been elated at the dogfight—Master Tisar quick to correct them that they hadn’t actually been in the fight, with Poe and General Syndulla buying enough time for them to jump to another lane while they remained behind to clean up the mess. Nevertheless, their energy and excitement was like an electro-shock prod in the Force.

Some of the younglings were eager to pester Greez, who shooed them away with one hand while the other two heaped generous portions of food onto his plate from the spread at the side of the refectory. The older Padawans were excited to see Merrin and Cere again, crowding around them and even sitting on the floor near their table when it ran out of space. The women had fond smiles as they dined amongst the students on the lower tables, rather than the master’s table set against the raised platform at the head of the hall where the other masters sat. Rey eyed Luke, Cal, and Ezra carefully for the better part of an hour. They seemed at ease, chatting jovially amongst themselves exchanging smiles and laughter at some joke she was too far away to catch.

Her attention was split between attempting to discern whether or not they suspected her, and monitoring Kira so that she did not overeat. It would not be a pleasant night if the girl indulged in too much too soon, her stomach still sensitive to flavors and variety. The med droid had been clear in its instructions on what she was and was not allowed at this stage of her nutritional development. Kira poked at her mashed protatoes with a disgruntled expression, enviously eyeing the other younglings’ hearty and seasoned selections at the other tables. Before Rey could encourage her to continue her meal, Ben set his tray down beside her, his large frame sliding smoothly onto the bench.

He sighed heavily as though a great weight had finally been eased off his shoulders. “Hi,” he intoned, smirking at her expression.

Rey quickly schooled her features—she hadn’t sensed him coming through their Bond and had been surprised at his sudden appearance. She raised her cup and took a drink in an attempt to buy some time to formulate her thoughts.

“Hi Ben!” Kira’s smile was as bright as the Jakku sun. Beneath the table, her feet kicked the air as she swung them back and forth. “Can you do my hair again? Rey made me undo your braids.” At her sulking pout, Rey scowled.

“You were starting to stink,” she justified, pointing at her younger self with a fork, elbow planted on the table. “Hygiene includes your hair. You don’t want lice do you?”

“No,” Kira grumbled with a vigorous shake of her head.

“Because that’s how you get lice,” Rey concluded with narrowed eyes.

After she had finally wrestled Kira into one of the dormitory ’freshers and brushed her hair, she had tied them up into two buns at the back of her head, satisfied with the clean strands. Rey had been next, staring at her own crown of braids with a sense of portent at the thought of untying them, forcibly shaking the ridiculous feeling before hopping into the ’fresher. Afterwards, she had pulled half into a bun and kept the rest loose around her shoulders to further dissuade others from looking too closely at the ‘sisters’ and noticing their similarities. Unlike her younger self, Rey was not so bold as to ask Ben to braid it again, but if he offered she would not refuse.

Ben chuckled at the exchange. “I’m beginning to think you’re only my friend because you want me to style your hair,” he aimed at Kira, winking when she blushed.

“Where have you been?” Rey prompted after a moment of silent eating. She had lost count which course of food they were on at this point, with many around the refectory already full and merely talking over empty plates. Jacen had assured her there was more to come, to Kira’s despair as she still picked her way through the first course hours later.

“Where else? Meditating with Luke, talking with Luke, arguing with Luke…take your pick.”

She bit her lip before half-turning in her seat to face him. “But it’s…going all right? You’ve discussed the…” She glanced around, though it was highly unlikely anyone could overhear them over the din. Despite many fighting off the readjustment period to the planet’s day-night cycle, the crowd was a rowdy, energetic bunch. “The voices calling to you from the dark side?”

Ben’s fork, which had been pushing food around in his bowl, stilled for only a moment before he gathered some food onto the utensil. He nodded in lieu of words. “Could you hear them?” he spoke so softly that even Kira leaned forward, straining to catch his words. Rey would speak to her later about eavesdropping on conversations that did not concern her—though, if she was technically her, then perhaps it did concern her? Rey’s head began to pound with the beginnings of a migraine.

Rey set her bowl down and focused more fully on Ben. “Sometimes. In dreams.”

Ben’s gaze was pensive, his eyes dark, pupils dilated despite the light from torches set against the walls of the refectory at even intervals. “From our Bond? The dyad thing?”

I have been every voice you have ever heard inside your head, a malicious voice cackled through time. She thought of the broken man Ben Solo would have become in less than ten years had she not returned.

Rey shrugged in response.

A peel of laughter startled the pair, drawing their attention to Merrin who was currently floating a youngling and three trays with bursts of green magic. The senior Padawans were scattered throughout the refectory: Pela at Merrin’s side—probably discussing whatever the Gauntlet was, even as the Nightsister continued levitating the youngling; Lorna in deep conversation with Cere, arms around her knees as she sat on the floor before the older woman. Tak was off to the side of the refectory in an alcove, with another Padawan making eyes at each other. Poe had taken off soon after he had arrived, after debriefing Master Skywalker. Rey had felt guilty for forcing him to leave before the Feast in order to carry out her favor, but he had insisted he had other duties to the New Republic he had to fulfill—in between this apparently clandestine mission she was asking him to undertake.

“Besides,” Poe had added with a smirk, “If I stay, Jacen’ll challenge me to a drinking game and then I won’t be able to fly—well, I can still fly, just not safely.”

So Rey had entrusted him with the information on Finn and Jannah and saw him off when he departed the Praxeum as quickly as he had arrived.

Rey turned her gaze back on Ben, the flashing emerald reflected in his eyes.

“It’s not true” she continued, startling him with the intensity of her tone. “Whatever the voices have been saying to you—it’s a lie.”

“What’s a lie?” Jacen interrupted as he shoved between Ben and Rey, his fourth tray of food clattering when he set it on the table. Despite his heavy shielding the past few days, Rey could feel Ben’s annoyance through their Bond. Quis and Lorrik joined them, sitting opposite Ben.

“That I don’t want dessert,” Ben lied easily, back to keeping his head down as he played with his food.

Quis laughed at the statement. “That’s banthash—” he broke off when he noticed Kira scowling at him. “You’re always the first one at the dessert spread,” he carried on, ignoring the girl as he discretely pulled out a flask before upending it into his cup of green juice. He passed the flask to Lorrik who agreed with the sentiment.

Ben shrugged but did not deny it and Rey smiled behind her mouthful of food. While she was annoyed that their conversation had been interrupted, she reached out through their Bond, her mind tentatively brushing against his. She went slow, unwilling to barrel forward as Asha had done with her when she first arrived. When Ben stiffened subtly, she knew she’d succeeded. Hangar? Tonight? Unlike their private projections to each other across the galaxy, she didn’t know how to communicate through the Force. It was difficult to even string together a sentence with the amount of concentration necessary for the task—sending instead her intent and flashes of the hangar. At his nod, she withdrew her mind and leaned on her hands to observe the others around the refectory, hand on her stomach, rounded slightly from the amount of food she had consumed in the last three hours. Having waited for the transport to arrive, the Feast had started late and it was already nearing midnight if the chrono near the entrance to the refectory could be believed.

Now that Rey had convinced Poe (quite easily) to retrieve Finn and Jannah, she could focus on Kira’s schooling and Ben’s rehabilitation. The rest of the data on the tape had been uploaded into R2 for retransmission to Leia when they had returned from Jakku, but the General—Senator, Rey reminded herself—hadn’t yet responded to the information and Rey did not wish to pester Master Skywalker about it.

Her gaze fell on Kira—while she had succeeded in saving her from Jakku, she longed to do the same for Finn who was as close to her heart as Kira, but she felt it was still too soon to leave her alone. When Rey glanced around the table she amended her thought, Kira would have Ben and the others looking after her if anything happened to Rey. She huffed a laugh when Kira began arguing with Lorrik after he accused her of stealing one of his protatoes. Despite her slow adjustment to Praxeum life—even returning to sleep in her own room—Kira’s fear that Rey would abandon her was still palpable in the budding Bond between them. Rey had been alarmed when she had first noticed the connection in the Force between them, but Ezra had assured her that Bonds between Force sensitive family members was common, citing Luke, Leia, and Ben as an example. Rey had bit her tongue to keep from asking if it was still a Bond when one was connecting with themselves.

When she glanced at Ben again, Rey felt the Force swell up inside her chest, a burst of confidence and harmony emanating at the mere thought of him. He was on the right path, thanks to Rey’s meddling, so she could afford to step back from that thread of thought to focus on what remained—on things that she could do something about, she corrected, thinking of the alien beckoning her to the ruins of some temple on an unfamiliar planet.

Almost two hours later, after much bantering and goodnatured arguments (mostly between Jacen, Quis, and Lorrik who had consumed too much of their mystery flask), Kira had finally cleared off her plate—following Rey and the med droid’s instructions on eating slowly and in smaller portions—she yawned widely, resting her cheek on the table as she almost immediately fell asleep. Ben snorted at the display, catching Rey’s eye. She rose and nodded at the others. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to tuck my sister in.” Kira was the last youngling in the refectory at this hour.

“Come back for dessert!” Jacen insisted in a loud whisper and Rey nodded noncommittally, avoiding Ben’s eye.

She pulled Kira’s arms up before squatting in order to pick her up more securely. She tried not to stagger under the sudden dead weight. Rey made it about six steps beyond the refectory before Ben caught up with them, a soft touch on her elbow.

“Here.” He held out his hands so that Rey could maneuver Kira into his arms where she easily slotted against his chest, her nose tucked against his neck, her skinny arms dangling over his shoulders. Rey tried not to stare too intently, pushing aside thoughts of how the sleeveless Padawan tunic accentuated his muscled arms.

“Useful for braiding hair and carrying small children that are surprisingly heavy—you are a good friend,” Rey teased in a quiet voice. Ben scoffed shaking his head.

The youngling dormitory was silent as they walked down the hall to Kira’s room, the others sleeping soundly surrounded by friends and full bellies. Now Kira could be counted amongst them.

“Should we go to the hangar after we drop her off?”

Rey hesitated, now that Ben was beside her, it seemed foolish to meet up somewhere else. “Maybe we can talk in my room?” There was enough moonlight streaming through the windows that she could easily see how quickly his ears turned red. She tried to backpedal so that her proposition did not seem so scandalous. “O-or perhaps the lake again?”

Ben nudged the door to Kira’s room open with his foot when Rey made no move to help. “I don’t think it matters where we get caught if we’re caught again.”

“What?” She squeaked, louder than intended when she saw Kira stir. The girl sighed heavily once placed in her bed, Ben tucking the blanket over her shoulder with a soft serenity that momentarily made Rey’s heart beat faster. He gestured for her to follow him out of the room to continue the conversation.

“Luke found us on the lake the morning he sent us to Jedha,” he explained, hands on his hips.

It was Rey’s turn to blush, heat creeping up her neck. “W-we weren’t doing a-anything,” she justified. Stars, if she was getting this worked up about the implication of impropriety, she couldn’t imagine if she were the one married to Merrin—poor Cal. “It was just talking.”

The corner of Ben’s lips lifted, not quite enough to smile, but it left a fond expression on his face as he watched her. “You’re right.” He huffed a laugh. “You know? I might be as sick of talking as you are of meditating.”

She chuckled at that, the tension between them broken as they strolled back down the hall heading towards the senior Padawan dormitory. She picked at a hangnail as she gathered her thoughts, the hazy memories of Exegol swirling to the surface. “There’s something I will need to do that will take me away from the Praxeum—once I can repair a ship well enough to fly. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, but I’m worried about Kira…”

“She’s safe here,” Ben assuaged, a line between his brows. “I know he doesn’t look it, but Luke is the strongest Jedi alive—”

Rey scoffed, oh she knew all right.

“He took down the Emperor and…the Sith…on his own, blew up the first Death Star—” he cut himself off from rambling.

And he faced down the entire First Order with nothing but a projection of himself with a laser sword, she added to herself.

“There’s nowhere safer in the galaxy than here at the Praxeum, under Luke’s protection.” His tone was firm, unwavering in its conviction.

I failed, Luke’s voice rose to the forefront of her mind. She could see the Praxeum burning in the memories he had shared with her, his utter despair and hopelessness.

Rey bit her tongue to keep from telling Ben how wrong he was.

I was Luke Skywalker…Jedi Master…a legend…his regret and bitterness sharp and cutting even now.

“Besides,” Ben went on, oblivious to her dark thoughts. “She has me. I would never let anything happen to her.”

The Force hummed around his words and Rey believed it, nodding gratefully. They had arrived at her room, both of them lingering in the doorway.

“I just don’t want her to think I’ve abandoned her, like m-our parents.”

“She would never think that,” he seemed certain of the claim. He hesitated before he went on, “I can feel her in the Force—same as you.” A troubled expression bloomed on his face. “Same but different,” he clarified without actually explaining anything.

“What do you mean?”

“My Uncle noticed it as well—there’s something between me and Kira, but it’s a little different from whatever is connecting us.” He gestured between them.

“A Force Bond?” Rey ventured tentatively, moving into her room to hide her expression.

“Something like that,” he shrugged, sinking onto the bed in lieu of anywhere else to sit.

Rey’s heart stuttered at the sight of him there, in her private space, throat constricting with the rightness of it. She forced herself to look out the window. She briefly entertained the idea of revealing the truth to him, stifling a hysterical giggle at the thought of him actually believing such kark. No, if she had to entrust the fate of the future to someone, it would be one of the masters. While Luke appeared to be the obvious choice, the Force seemed to nudge her in Ahsoka’s direction. Interesting, Rey mused on the idea until Ben cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to the present.

“In your dreams,” Rey prompted, “do the voices take form?”

“You’re talking about the alien,” he murmured, expression darkening at the memory.

She was almost frightened to ask, “Is that…Palpatine?”

To her relief, he shook his head. “No, the Emperor is long dead. This…thing…is something else. It spoke in Palpatine’s voice, my grandfather’s….and another I didn’t recognize.”

It was I who bridged your minds, Snoke’s thunderous lie reverberated through the Force. It had been the defining moment between her and Ben, where he had realized Snoke’s manipulation. The Force had connected them, not that ambitious monster.

“I don’t recognize the species,” he went on, troubled by the phantasm haunting their shared dreams.

She turned from the window, shivering at the memory of the creature’s taut leathery skin and dark eyes. “What about the temple?”

He frowned at that. “What temple?”

“You don’t see a temple behind the creature?”

He shook his head. “Just fire and darkness, sometimes a red room with a black throne.” He gathered a fistful of hair before shaking his hand through it, attempting to dispel the images gathered therein. She felt his signature waver in the Force at the minor disturbance.

Tentatively, she approached and sat on the bed beside him. She took his hand in hers to draw his attention away from his dark thoughts. His hand seemed so much bigger—or perhaps hers appeared tiny in comparison.

“Well, whatever it is, we’ll face it together. You’re not alone, Ben.”

“Neither are you,” he murmured, unknowingly echoing her own words back at her.

Such a simple reaffirming exchange as they reached out across the Force to share a touch and comfort one another. Strange how moments across time seemed to repeat in perfect harmony. She could feel their Bond humming between them in the small space.

Ben’s eyes lingered on her lips before he inhaled sharply, rising to leave. “I should go,” he announced, almost to himself.

Rey stood up hesitantly, dazed by his sudden withdrawal in their Bond. It took him two steps to reach the door, Rey right behind him. As soon as he passed the threshold, he turned abruptly and took her face in both his hands, pressing his lips against hers.

He missed and got the corner, pulling away sheepishly before she tugged him back down to softly capture his lips with hers. She could feel his desire and joy reverberating through their Bond—or was it her own? It was a strange feedback loop of emotions that had her smiling against his mouth. His lips were soft and warm, his hands careful as they moved to rest against her hips, almost as though worried he would crush her.

When she pulled away a moment later, her breath caught at his expression—as though she were a divine being and he were a pilgrim worshipping at her altar. Her heart beat faster than when they had kissed, her cheeks hot despite the cool night air flowing through the Praxeum halls. She suddenly remembered where they were and glanced around the deserted corridors for any late night stragglers but found no one lurking.

He licked his lips and Rey found herself leaning forward. “I should go,” he said again and she knew if he didn’t leave now, he would stay with her forever. Her hands slid off of his muscled arms, nodding her permission and releasing him from her presence. She watched him leave with lingering longing.

Unable to bring herself to sleep, wound tight with excitement, she headed back to the refectory, unsurprised to find there were still small groups of people sharing caf or tea over desserts and soft conversation. The chrono by the entrance indicated it was three hours past midnight. She hesitated at the entrance until Ezra waved her over to the empty master’s table. He and Cal appeared to be the only masters still awake to oversee the remaining students. Quis and Lorrik were passed out at their table from earlier, arms around each other as they slumped against the wall.

Cal sat at another table with Merrin who was feeding him one of the dessert selections the Mantis had brought to the Praxeum. Rey smiled when the Nightsister shoved the dessert roughly against her husband’s face, smearing half against his nose. Merrin laughed melodically before leaning to kiss him.

Ezra put a few pieces of various desserts and fruits onto a spare plate before pushing it towards Rey, drawing her attention back.

“Can’t sleep?” He poured a steaming cup of caf for her before going back to nurse his own, his knee bent with his foot on the bench, his signature calm and easy in the Force.

She picked at the dessert, relishing in the burst of sweetness on her tongue. Rey felt her cheeks burn, thinking of the previous sweet treat she had stolen an hour ago. She hoped Master Bridger didn’t notice in the low light. She yawned behind her hand, though refused to drink the offered caf.

“Ah, it’s not that bad,” Ezra teased as he raised his cup, clinking the bottom to the rim of her cup. “Is it better when you’re from?”

“It’s not that,” she chuckled. She just knew that if she drank the cup she would never get to sleep…it was then her mind caught up with processing his words. She sat up, frowning. “Sorry, what?”

“In the future—or whatever—is the caf any better?”

Rey paled, her mouth falling open slightly. “What…” She attempted a laugh, “Master Bridger I believe you’re even more sleep-deprived than—”

“Oh, did Luke and the others not mention that we know?” He did not even look cowed by his own bluntness. “Come on, it’s the only thing that makes sense.” He shrugged, knocking back his cup to drain the caf in one large gulp. “Besides, you’re not very subtle.” When he saw her expression he chuckled. “Also, when you’re uncomfortable you fall back on calling me ‘Master Bridger’.”

Rey sputtered, unsure of how to deny his claims, unsure of whether she wanted to deny them at all. She bit back on addressing him as Master Bridger when she asked, “How did you—”

“You’re not the only Jedi who’s travelled through time,” he interrupted with a wink.

Chapter 10: The Stormtrooper

Chapter Text

FN-2187 was having a terrible day.

First, his blaster had jammed, twice, and only when there had been an officer around to witness it and berate him for it, costing him demerits and latrine duty. Then he had somehow misplaced the plastoid gauntlet of his right hand, which led to further demerits upon line inspection in the barracks. To top everything off, he just had to be on perimeter duty when a dissident infiltrated the base.

FN-2187 raised his blaster but hesitated when the humanoid man pulled off his helmet in order to better see through his macrobinoculars. He was too busy observing the trooper movements and training in the fields below to notice FN-2187. It had been a cloudy morning, but in that moment the sun finally broke through the gloom and cast its rays on the dissident. The man wore the fatigues of a pilot, and FN-2187’s throat constricted at the thought of surrendering and flying away from this monotonous torture. Something told him to trust the man—one of FN-2187’s strange ‘feelings’ again. At least FN-2164 wasn’t here to make fun of him for it. Small mercies, he supposed.

He lowered his blaster before shuffling forward, a twig snapping beneath his boot finally catching the man’s attention. The pilot swiveled onto one knee, producing a blaster out of thin air and aiming it at FN-2187.

“Woah, easy,” he told the pilot, hands raised. He was momentarily distracted by the pilot’s dark curls and strong jaw. He was older than him, though he could not guess by how much.

“What are you doing lurking in the bushes?” the man questioned, dark eyes narrowed.

“What are you doing lurking in the bushes?” FN-2187 shot back, annoyance clear even through his vocoder.

The pilot assessed him, eyes lingering on the missing gauntlet and the singular weapon he seemed to have on him (he definitely only had the one blaster on him, but hoped he wouldn’t have to turn in the pilot to his superiors—he really did not want to be slapped with yet more demerits for not lugging around the full perimeter-guard cache of weaponry).

“Looking for a friend,” the man said after the silence between them stretched. “Maybe you could come along too, if that’s what you want,” he added after noticing FN-2187 straighten at his words. He slowly returned the blaster to the holster at his hip before straightening out of his stance. “I’m Poe. Poe Dameron.”

“Is it smart to give your full name to an enemy inside their base?”

Poe’s eyes twinkled with what looked like mischief, his smile dazzling and a little dangerous. “Are you an enemy?”

FN-2187 considered his words. He didn’t want to be his enemy. He wondered which of his friends from the cohort Poe was looking for. He refrained from answering, merely shrugging, the plastoid clattering with the clunky movement.

“All right buddy, here’s my plan. I create some kind of distraction on the other side of the base—I’m thinking explosives ought to do it—meanwhile, you go in and find me this trooper: FN-2187.”

He started at his name—no, designation. Troopers didn’t have names. He reached up and hastily pulled off his helmet and Poe’s eyes widened.

“Kriff, you’re just a kid,” he breathed before his expression hardened. “Rey was right about these sleemos.”

“I’m FN-2187,” he said without preamble.

Poe scoffed. “And how would I know that? Maybe you just need a pilot.”

“I do need a pilot.” FN-2187 fumbled for his identification, a small holo of his chain code appeared, floating above his forearm. “But I’m really who you’re looking for.”

Poe was silent for a beat, his mouth hanging open before he shook his head. “Gotta ask Master Tano when I get back if I’m a Jedi—no way am I this lucky.”

“A Jedi?” FN-2187 exclaimed, his heart fluttering with excitement, and a little bit of fear.

“All right, FN—I’m gonna call you Finn, Rey said that was your name? Let’s get on the ship and we can play fifty questions on the way to the Praxeum.”

“Finn?” he echoed, tasting the name on his lips. “I like that—wait, who is Rey?”

Poe looked at him, puzzled, before he shook his head. “Fifty questions. On the ship. Let’s go.”

“I can’t leave my friends behind,” FN—Finn protested, a hand on the pilot’s forearm, the muscles tensing slightly under his touch.

“Listen, I don’t have much room and we’ve still got one more passenger to pick up after we leave,” Poe insisted, twisting his arm so that his hand gripped Finn’s. “Rey said we’d come back for all of ’em.”

Finn didn’t know this Rey person, but something—another one of his ‘feelings’—told him that Poe’s words were true. He nodded grimly once before they both ducked out of the bushes and sprinted towards the pilot’s ship, his hand slightly clammy at the prospect of escape. A giddy excitement bubbled up inside him as he realized he really was leaving, not just the planet, but the clutches of the First Order. No more beatings or reconditioning, no more running exercises or monotonous shooting drills against some faceless threat. No more bland food rations and verbal humiliation from senior troopers. Finn was finally free, and he could do whatever he wanted and explore the galaxy without the shackles of the First Order clamped tightly around his neck.

It had taken Poe nearly four cycles to reach Fondor, despite taking the most direct route. Then again, getting anywhere from the Praxeum usually took more than a few cycles, especially when heading for the Core. Fondor was smack dab in the middle of the Core and Inner Rim. In the grand scheme of the galaxy, Fondor was unimpressive, made important only by virtue of its orbital shipyards suspended in a ring around the planet. Shipyards that the pilot blew past, easily evading sensors and Remnant patrols thanks to his bogus clearance codes.

“Why Fondor?” Poe asked to fill the silence. Finn had sat quietly in the co-pilot’s seat for nearly half an hour, eyes wide as he took in the galaxy spinning around them. Poe got the feeling the former trooper did not speak much unless spoken to. “Were they training you for ship specs?”

Finn shook his head. “Just a regular training site before we get sent for assignment off-planet to a permanent unit.”

The planet they trained them on must be where the troopers got their designations, Poe realized, FN for Fondor.

Finn’s eyes fell on his hands resting on his plastoid lap. “I didn’t finish training.”

Poe reached over and slapped his shoulder comfortingly, the plastoid cold and hard beneath his palm. “It’s all right buddy, I have a feeling you’ve got a lot of training ahead of you—and this one’s the fun kind where you can toss people around using your mind.”

Finn’s eyes grew wide. “W-what?”

“Oh right, should’ve lead with that—you’re a Jedi.”

“A…Jedi?” His voice was small, his brows pinched together in worry.

“Well, a baby Jedi—Padawans they call ’em. Once you’re done your training you’ll be a fully-fledged Jedi, like Master Skywalker.”

“Luke Skywalker?” Finn nearly burst out of his seat, twisting to face Poe. “The war criminal?”

“Well—”

“I don’t want to be a criminal,” Finn moaned as he put his head in his hands miserably.

“He’s not a crimin—I mean, I guess from a certain point of view…” Poe shook his head, trying not to think about the number of Imps aboard both Death Stars when they had been destroyed. He thought back to his mother's stories of her time in the Rebellion. “The point is that the Jedi are the good guys! They help people.”

“You just said they toss people around using their mind!”

Poe sputtered. “They do, sometimes, for fun—”

“They torture people for fun?” Finn’s voice had gone up an octave as he suddenly fumbled with his buckles. “I need to get out of here, this was a mistake, kriff my feelings and kriff the First Or—”

“Buddy, relax,” Poe raised his voice to be heard over his rambling. “The Jedi don’t torture people, they help out where they can around the galaxy and are a part of the New Republic—hell, Skywalker’s sister is the General Organa.” He nearly sighed wistfully before catching himself.

“Great, another war criminal,” Finn grumbled, unconvinced.

“What are those Remnants teaching you guys,” Poe scoffed, shaking his head.

“Remnant?”

“Imperial Remnant—Imps—leftovers and holdouts from the Empire.”

“We’re not Imperial,” Finn explained with a frown. “They call themselves the First Order.”

“Great, another fascist regime,” Poe parroted with just as much excitement as Finn had mustered.

“Well, whatever they are, I’m grateful to get away from them. I don’t really want to be a prisoner in another group, so if you can just drop me off at the nearest system—”

“Buddy, listen, if you don’t want to join the Jedi at the Praxeum that’s your choice. But at least come with me to talk to Rey about it, she was pretty adamant I get you out of there as soon as possible.” Poe punched in coordinates before making the jump.

Finn turned in his seat and crossed his arms. “Who is this Rey? I’ve never heard of her before.”

Poe frowned at this. “She said you were her best friend—a little odd if you ask me, but I’m not here to judge why she didn’t really have any friends her own age—anyway, she had mentioned reconditioning was a big thing with those guys so maybe you just…forgot her?” Poe tried to break the revelation as gently as he could, but it was difficult news for anyone to swallow. He couldn’t even imagine if someone had wiped his memory of Jacen and his friends in the New Republic.

Finn’s chest rose and fell with slight rapidity, the same way some wannabe pilots would when fighting off the vertigo in the simulator pods. “I had a best friend? And they took her away from me?”

“Hey,” Poe drew the teenager’s attention back on a singular focal point. Finn’s eyes were shiny in the low light of the co*ckpit, the hyperspace streak of lights dancing across his face. “You’ll get her back, and they’ll never take her, or anyone you love, away from you again. I promise.”

An insistent pinging suddenly drew his attention and Poe cursed under his breath, smoothing his hair before accepting the incoming transmission. “General!” he greeted with a smile, despite the fact that it was an audio only transmission.

“Just Hera,” she responded more out of reflex than in a way that suggested she believed he would actually take her up on it. “Poe where are you? I just got off a call with Thayna and she said you hadn’t arrived yet—”

“Right, yes, yes. Uh, yes, I’m on my way, General, I’ll be there before you can blink.” He laughed nervously, avoiding Finn’s inquisitive gaze as he took in the conversation.

“Poe.” Kriff, she was annoyed. “Send me a location ping.”

He did not immediately send the ping. “I had to run a quick errand for Master Skywalker, so I’m a little out of the way—”

A light on the console blinked and he heard Chopper beep in the background. Poe braced himself for the onslaught.

“The Tapani sector?” General Syndulla’s indignant voice filled the small co*ckpit. Even Finn winced at her tone. “What the frotz are you doing in the Colonies, Dameron?”

“Like I said, a little detour, but I’ll be at Thayna’s in a couple hours—”

“How do you plan on traversing the distance from the Colonies to the Outer Rim in ‘a couple hours’? Have you found some hitherto undiscovered wormhole that allows you to bend time and space and, apparently, the rules? You have obligations to the New Republic and a duty to help those in need—”

“General, I know I’m sorry but I had to help out a friend,” Poe dared to interject, not glancing at Finn even as he felt his eyes on him.

“I get that, Dameron, I do. But there is no way you can make the rendezvous with Thayna now and they really needed those supplies.”

“I’ll get there, I promise.” Poe was almost out of his seat with how far he was leaning forward.

She scoffed at that. “Don’t get co*cky, kid, even you’re not that fast.” She paused and sighed audibly. Chopper had a few choice insults to throw at Poe’s recklessness, but only the General’s judgement mattered as he waited with bated breath. “Where are you stopping to refuel? I’ll check if any of our contacts need the supplies so they don’t go to waste.”

Poe nearly fell out of his seat in relief. “Kijimi is my closest port for refuel.”

“Fine, once you’re done there, meet Kaydel at our base on D’Qar to resupply then make your way directly to Hays Minor.”

Poe chuckled nervously. “About that…”

“You do know you’ll be grounded once you’re back at HQ, do you really want to test my patience?”

Kriff, this must be how Jacen feels whenever the General chewed him out—it was a little humiliating…and a tiny bit exciting.

“It’s one more person I need to grab and then I’m all yours, General, I swear. C’mon, they’re just kids,” he held out a placating hand at Finn who bristled at being called a child. “Isn’t that why we do what we do? To help people? Jacen and Ezra take care of the younglings at the Praxeum—the rest of us? We’ve got a whole galaxy of kids who need us.”

There was silence on the other end (barring Chopper’s unconvinced puttering beeps) before she sighed once more, mumbling in Ryl, and Poe smiled triumphantly. “Fine,” she said curtly (Chopper protesting more loudly now at the injustice of Poe flaunting regulation, yet again). “After you’re grounded, you’re getting every Outer Rim supply run for the next month.”

(Not enough, in Chopper’s—unsolicited—opinion).

“You got it, General,” Poe acquiesced with a wide smile, trying not to laugh at Finn’s baffled expression. “I’ll keep you updated on my progress.”

“You better, I expect you in Hays Minor in five cycles, no excuses.”

He saluted, further deepening Finn’s confusion. “Will do, General.”

“Just Hera,” she reminded lazily before ending the transmission.

Poe sank back into his seat with a giddy laugh.

“I’m sorry you’ll be reprimanded because of me,” Finn’s voice was small as he spoke into the silence of the co*ckpit.

Poe’s smile slowly died. “What? No, buddy, that was the worst of it, trust me. General Syndulla is harsh but fair.”

“But you disobeyed your superior—and a General at that—won’t you be court marshaled?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Wow, uh, no. Again, the New Republic is in the business of helping people, not punishing them for the smallest slight.”

Finn frowned. “Insubordination isn’t a small slight.”

Poe laughed at that. “Buddy, the Rebellion was built on nothing but a little bit of hope and a lot of insubordination.”

It had taken them the better part of a day to reach Kijimi, and Poe had shown Finn to a bunk when he noticed him nodding off in the co*ckpit, to his embarrassment. If he had been back on Fondor and caught dozing at his post, he’d likely face a few hits from an electroprod before hours of reeducation; Poe only smiled kindly and led him to a bunk. When Finn woke later, he found a blanket had been draped over him. He didn’t know why his chest tightened at the idea that the pilot had cared enough to keep him warm but he was grateful—space was cold. And quiet. Only the humming of the ship’s engine could be heard in the desolate blackness of space as they traversed the galaxy.

Finn had removed his plastoid armor, too uncomfortable in it to sleep properly, and slept only in his blacks. The weave was more breathable and shaped to his body’s specifications like a soft embrace. He wondered idly why the pilot hadn’t woken him to take over flying, he had to be tired—perhaps he did not trust Finn. He wouldn’t trust himself either if he were the pilot. But Poe seemed overly friendly in a way that would result in getting shot or killed if one was naive enough.

Unable to find his plastoid, he left the small sleeping area—or maybe this was the cargo, with the amount of crates stacked inside and lack of cabin or crew quarters—and ventured the few steps back to the co*ckpit. Poe hadn’t been lying when he’d told Finn he didn’t have enough room on the ship, though he wondered if, once they unloaded their current cargo, they could return to Fondor and retrieve his friends.

It didn’t seem like Poe would be able to fly them around for much longer now that he’d been ‘punished’ for disobeying orders. If Dameron couldn’t help him, then Finn had to take his chances and steal a ship at the first opportunity and go back, despite the fact that Finn knew next to nothing about piloting, other than how to start the ignition sequence in a TIE fighter.

Poe greeted him with a smile and Finn hesitated for only a moment before returning it. He was used to staring at the expressionless bucket-heads of his colleagues all day and the officers certainly didn’t bother acknowledging the troopers even existed—let alone glance in their direction with anything other than vehemence. It was a strange new world this dissident lived in and Finn found himself eager to experience more. Beyond the viewport a planet grew larger as they approached—it must be Kijimi, the place Poe told his General about. As a basic trooper with no navigational specialization, Finn wasn’t really sure where in the galaxy they were at the moment. Even glancing at the nav computer it appeared as meaningless gibberish on a screen. He supposed he would have to study the star charts to learn about the major systems and hyperspace lanes if he ever hoped to return to Fondor.

Poe noticed his apprehensive gaze. “Just a quick stop, we’ll unload the supplies, refuel, then we’ll head out to get Jannah and I’ll drop you both off at the Praxeum.” He frowned for a moment, “Unless Jannah wants to stay with the New Republic, Rey didn’t say if she was also a Jedi.” He shrugged but carried on initiating their descent to the planet below.

As he moved to the co-pilot’s seat to strap in, Finn opened his mouth to protest being carted off yet again before the more intriguing question tumbled past his lips. “Who’s Jannah?”

“Another trooper, trapped, like you were.” The muscle in Poe’s strong jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth. “There’s a lot of you out there and only one of me. Not much I can do except ferry those who want out.” He scoffed bitterly, “I didn’t even know there were troopers who were being forced into it, karking Imps…”

“You thought we were all willing?” Finn could see the question cut deep and Poe’s cheeks reddened under his gaze.

“The stormtroopers of the Empire were recruits and the clone troopers before them were engineered to fulfill the purpose of an army—I guess I just didn’t question it as deeply as I should have.” His words were a solemn apology to Finn and a chastisem*nt to himself.

It was not long before Poe guided the ship beneath a swirling soup of clouds in the stratosphere, a city perched on a rocky cliff slowly growing larger on their approach. Finn leaned forward over the control console, taking in the sprawling city beyond the viewport. It must be the winter season on the planet, a light dusting of snow covered the ground and nearby buildings and the corners of the viewport began to fog with frost on their descent. Finn shivered, leaning back into his seat and wrapping his arms around himself to ward off the chill. Could a place be colder than the void of space?

They were hailed immediately, but once Poe passed on his call sign and clearance code (as well as a few other New Republic-y terms Finn didn’t recognize), they were allowed to dock.

“Welcome back Starlight, proceed to Bay 17.”

Finn thought that Dameron must be a damn good pilot, his movements came with a natural ease and the ship seemed to anticipate his desires, banking and landing with satisfying smoothness. He hardly felt the tell-tale shudder of a ship sinking slightly on its hydraulic struts and was surprised to find that Poe had already disengaged the ramp.

Poe seemed to notice Finn’s shivering and nodded at him as he fluidly unbuckled the seat straps. “Why don’t you stay onboard and keep warm, I’ll be quick and the locals’ll help me offload.”

Finn begrudgingly nodded, unused to being given orders to rest rather than carry out a laborious task. Beyond the viewport, he spotted aliens and humanoids approach the ship, apparently aware of Dameron’s cargo as they carted hoversleds behind them. Slowly, the sounds of the planet filtered in through the open ramp, filling the silence that had persisted on their journey. Beyond the spaceport, he could hear the bustling market and the voices of vendors hawking their wares. Finn had decided he disliked being in space for prolonged periods of time—not because of the apparent void that sentients often associated space with, certainly there were near-infinite signs of light and life in the dark canvas of the galaxy (though Finn was unsure of how he could sense that, only that he could)—it was more to do with the singular loneliness and claustrophobia that accompanied journeys through space.

When he heard Poe loudly greet the ground crew by name, Finn noted that Kijimi appeared to be a frequent stop for the pilot. Before he left the co*ckpit, a glint of silver caught his eye—a small blaster sat snugly in a holster dangling from the back of the pilot’s chair. Finn hesitated for only a moment before taking it and strapping it around his hips, the tension in his shoulders easing at the familiar weight. By the entrance to the co*ckpit was a leather jacket that he eagerly appropriated, relishing in the warmth as he wrapped his arms around himself.

Resolve rose to the surface and Finn confidently made his way off the ship, hesitating only when an alien with two noses and one eye glared as he got in the way of their offloading the crates. He stepped down the ramp hastily, avoiding the alien’s gaze as his own swept the bay in search of the pilot. He spotted him in the midst of conversation with a short Sullustan who was waving off Poe’s comments.

“C’mon Kir,” Poe beseeched. “Just a few hundred liters.”

“More like a few thousand.” Kir shook their head, unmoved. “You always limp out here with barely a drop left and ask for a top-off when I should be charging you a full refuel.”

“Yeah, but this is—”

“‘The last time’?” The Sullustan laughed. “When have I heard that before?”

“It’s on me,” a throaty voice interjected and all three of them turned to face a humanoid who stood with one hand on their hip. Over their red and gold ensemble they wore a long brown coat to ward off the cold. Despite the fact that they were completely helmeted, they managed to clearly convey their annoyance. They reminded Finn of FN-0899, a senior trooper who had been assigned to oversee their training unit.

Poe instantly turned his attention on the newcomer, flashing them a brilliant smile that made Finn’s heart skip a beat. “Zorii,” he greeted with open arms, the gesture only slightly ridiculous in his overlarge fur-lined coat, but Zorii did not run into them as Finn expected. He hovered awkwardly, eyes darting between the pair as the tension rose.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up here after that stunt you pulled with Toviz,” Zorii reached up and removed their shiny helmet to reveal a tumble of wavy brown hair and a female humanoid face. Finn was momentarily distracted by her hair as the tresses seemed to bounce and fall artfully along her shoulder. He was unaccustomed to seeing anyone with such luxurious and lengthy hair—all troopers, male or female, were subject to the standard regulation cut. He brought his hand up to his own closely cropped hair, fingers sliding over the soft bristles as he wondered what it would look like if he grew it out.

Poe laughed. “Toviz knew the stakes.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t know you were a cheater,” Zorii responded as she tucked her helmet beneath one arm with practiced ease, her blue eyes sparing a glance in Finn’s direction, sizing him up but not yet addressing him. Her hard gaze snapped back to Poe.

“Is there any other way to play sabacc?” The pilot shrugged, his movements easy—this person was not a threat, so Finn relaxed his muscles slightly.

Zorii smirked before turning to Finn. “Who’s the kid?”

“Ah, this is—hey, that’s my jacket,” Poe realized, dark eyes sweeping over Finn who made to remove it, embarrassed. “No, keep it, it looks good on you,” Poe amended with a smile and a friendly slap on the shoulder.

Finn ducked his head, cheeks burning from the praise.

Zorii chuckled before nodding her head at the ground crew who quickly moved to fulfill her silent order, two of them pulling a large hose to connect to the ship’s fuel tank. “Didn’t know your ‘important duties to the New Republic’ included babysitting.”

There was no venom in her voice, but Finn frowned all the same. “I’m not a kid,” he found himself arguing. He was a regulation trooper who was trained and trusted to fire various blaster models and prepared to…kill—if necessary.

“Was helping Finn out of a sticky situation with some Imps,” Poe explained, his tone sombre enough that Zorii straightened in her stance.

“I see,” Zorii nodded slowly, her gaze slightly unfocused as though she were lost in thought. When she blinked, the memory was gone. “And where are you off to after this? I know for a fact that you’re not staying,” she smiled at Poe, “especially not when Toviz finds out you’re here.”

“Got one more quick stop in Tammuz-an. And the only way that Trandoshan figures out I’m here is if you tell him.” At her coy look, the smile died on Poe’s face. “Did you—”

She brought a hand up to her hair and giggled with false innocence. “Ah, you know, it’s so easy to get the bays mixed up—seven, seventeen, they sound so similar in Dosh.”

“Zorii—”

“I’d give you maybe half an hour?”

One of the ground crew called out just as a loud clang emanated from somewhere beneath the ship.

“Ah, hells,” Poe cursed as he jogged over to defuse the situation.

Finn shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other until he noticed Zorii’s eyes on him. “Good to see him still helping people out,” she intoned unprompted.

“Are you the dockmaster?”

Her subdued laugh was rough as it rumbled up her throat. “Definitely not the dockmaster.” Her eyes seemed to twinkle as she looked back at Poe who was masterfully placating the fuel attendants—idly, Finn wondered if there was anyone the pilot didn’t know who wasn’t frustrated with him.

“Did you really tell that Toviz person that Poe was here?”

She laughed again. “Nah, I just like to mess with him.”

Finn felt the corners of his lips tug upward in a small smile. “How do you know Poe?”

“Met him when he was just a kid—probably around your age,” Zorii responded as she sized Finn up. “Not that I was much older,” she amended with a shrug. “He and his parents were evacuating refugees escaping Imperial Remnant occupation.”

Finn found himself leaning closer as her words grew quieter. A few white flecks had begun to fall gently from the sky as the temperature dropped, their breaths misting in the cold. He pulled Poe’s jacket tighter around himself, though Zorii did not seem to mind the chill.

“I had just lost my parents and didn’t really see the point in…carrying on—until Dameron all but carried me to a dingy ship that was barely space-worthy and smuggled me off-world, right under the Imps’ noses.” She scoffed wistfully from the memory. “He has a way with words, even managed to convince me, a nobody from a no-name town to be part of something greater. So I joined the New Republic when I was old enough and here we both are—”

“Helping people,” Finn concluded and Zorii nodded. He turned suddenly to face her fully. “Can you help me secure a ship? I need to get back to Fondor to help my friends.”

She raised an eyebrow. “If you plan on staying in Kijimi City, I’m sure we can arrange for some transport—but it was my understanding that Dameron isn’t dropping you off here.”

“There’s somewhere else he’s going to take me, but I can’t leave my friends behind.”

Zorii was silent for a moment. “Knowing Poe, he wouldn’t leave them behind either.” She carried on when she saw him open his mouth to protest. “But if you insist on staying, I’ll see what I can do.”

The older woman strode forward then to smooth out whatever negotiations Poe was charming his way through, easily closing the deal with a few words and a placating wave of her hand. Despite her protestations, Finn thought she must be more powerful than the dockmaster, to have such influence.

Something suddenly pulled his attention away from the ship and the others, a cold chill in his chest that had nothing to do with the weather. He turned to the entrance to the bay, almost in a trance, an insistence pulling him towards what he assumed were the markets beyond the hangar. The sounds around him seemed to fade away and his harsh breathing was stark against his ears.

Beyond the hangar was a sprawling open air market filled with so many sentients that Finn nearly fell backward at the ‘feeling’ of their lights blooming within his chest. They carried on with their morning, flitting to and fro between stalls, credits and goods exchanged hands quickly enough to blur in his vision—or perhaps he was losing consciousness? This had only happened to Finn once before—during a training exercise on disarming explosives. A trooper who had confidently pushed ahead of the line had not disabled the correct wire and had gotten their arm blown off. FN-2204, Finn remembered. The officers had the troopers carry FN-2204 to the medbay where they had been promptly euthanized—a one-armed trooper was less than useless in the First Order.

Finn remembered the same feeling swelling in his chest right before the bomb had discharged. He glanced around frantically at the citizens as they milled about, some pushing past him when he wouldn’t move out of their way. Just like before, he could not find his voice to call out a warning when a cloaked ship flew in low to drop a bomb over the market. He could only watch helplessly as a blaze of fire and pressure exploded at the center of Kijimi City.

Chapter 11: The Truth

Chapter Text

“To be fair, you are a terrible liar,” Ezra shrugged. “I don’t recommend you play sabacc—especially not with Cal.” He raised his cup in Cal’s direction, nodding as they made eye contact over Rey’s shoulder.

Her mouth snapped shut as a million thoughts ran through her mind at light speed. Despite the overwhelming feelings surging through her, she did not feel guilt or shame, only panic—and relief. She clutched at her head as if to stave off a headache. It did not help that when she peaked through her fingers, she saw that Ezra was observing her with a smug smile. She reached out and grabbed the cup of caf, gulping it down in one swig. She was definitely not going to be able to sleep tonight.

“Come on, it’ll be easier if it’s all out in the open,” he coaxed gently, signs of teasing gone. “We don’t have to talk about the ‘how’ but we do need to discuss the ‘why’ and what’s going to happen.”

She sighed heavily, leaning back on the bench before she realized they were not seated at her earlier table and there was no wall behind her. She sat up straight in her seat instead, feeling as though she were in one of Master Skywalker’s lectures. “I don’t know the how.” Even as she said it she knew it was a lie—a partial one; she could not remember the how. “Just…endless darkness.”

Ezra hummed as he observed her face for any indication of deception. “Flashburn maybe?” he murmured almost to himself.

“I don’t know what that is,” Rey confessed, barreling on before he could explain the term, “Master, I’m worried if I say anything that everything will change—for the worse.”

Ezra rubbed his knuckles against the faint scars on his cheek, barely visible beneath his beard. “Well, Cal was able to read some of it off your Force echo. He just can’t piece it together—only you can do that for us.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his, drawing her despondent gaze onto him. “Rey, we’re here to help you, but we can’t if you don’t let us help you.”

She glanced around, her trepidation like a bowcaster pulled back. The refectory was nearly empty by now, the stragglers hunched around cups of caf, picking at the leftover desserts lazily with drooping eyelids and whispered half-hearted attempts at conversation. Even Cal and Merrin had retired to their room.

“There’s so many things and people—I just—I don’t know where to start…”

“How about Ben?”

Rey scoffed, she knew his suggestion was meant to be the easiest option but he could not know how complicated that part of her story would be. “That’s…” She shook her head. “Can we start with Master Skywalker?”

Ezra’s thick brows rose infinitesimally but nodded and waited for her to gather her thoughts. His signature radiated a calm patience as the minutes of silence stretched between them.

“There comes a time when he isolates himself on an uncharted planet,” she began, her words slow as she picked them carefully.

“Not much of a difference from now,” Ezra interjected with a small smile, his tone unconcerned.

“No, this is after…a colossal failure and a great many deaths.”

He sobered at that, his blue eyes as dark as the night sky beyond the refectory arches.

“At one point, General Organa believed her brother to be the only one who could help out the Resistance—”

“The Rebellion?”

She shook her head. “A Resistance—to a group known as the First Order. I’ve come to realize you’ve already encountered them at this point in time.”

Ezra leaned back in understanding. “Imp Remnants,” he correctly guessed. “What could Luke do by himself that Leia would need him? Why not call on all of us?”

Rey hesitated, gaze on her hands as she scratched at the wood grain of the table and Ezra scoffed lightly.

“We’re not around,” he answered his own speculations. “Dead?”

Her eyes shot up to quickly meet his clouded gaze. “I don’t know—I never met you in that time, but it doesn’t necessarily mean…that. All I knew before the Resistance was a miserable life scavenging on Jakku. I didn’t even know I was Force sensitive until—” she swallowed the rest of her words, unable, or perhaps unwilling, to reveal Ben’s downfall yet.

“So I guess we should be calling you Kira?”

“No,” Rey snapped before remembering her lessons and releasing her anger into the Force. “That’s her name, I am Rey.”

Ezra nodded in apology. “Different name, sure, but your signatures in the Force are nearly identical.”

She pursed her lips in frustration, attempting to diffuse the new emotion. “Does Master Skywalker know?”

“I think you’ll find it difficult to pull one over on Luke.” Ezra chuckled. “He hasn’t said it in so many words, but it’s obvious just from observing the two of you in the Force.”

“You said ‘nearly identical,’ what’s the distinction between us?” Her eyes darted left when a protocol droid puttered into the refectory to begin clearing away the mess left behind. “Is it our…connection to Ben?”

Ezra exhaled deeply. “No, but the fact that you both have a Force Bond with Ben makes sense given that you and Kira are the same person.”

Rey winced at his blunt assessment of the reality she was living in.

He carried on, “The Bond is the same—no, what distinguishes you is the…otherness in your signature. The Force.”

“But…we all have the Force within us,” Rey blurted, her cheeks growing hot when he huffed out an amused sound at her observation.

“True enough, Padawan—but I’m referring to the Cosmic Force. Threads of it are woven within and around you…an afterimage like a stellar collapse—a supernova in the Force.” His voice was soft and his gaze intense, as though he could see the threads with his naked eye.

“What is the Cosmic Force?” Rey leaned forward as she whispered, despite the fact that they were now the only two occupants in the refectory. There was a knot in her chest, though she wasn’t sure if it was this newfound aspect to her signature or her own neurosis concocting a phantom physical feeling.

“It’s the will of the Force that binds everything in galaxy, even across time and space.”

“Does this mean I can get back? To where I’m…supposed to be?”

Ezra’s eyes were sad though his expression remained kind. “I think that where you’re supposed to be is here. If the Force sent you back, it was for a reason.” He paused. “I’m afraid that the universe you left behind doesn’t exist anymore…a return isn’t possible, not if you intend to change things here.”

She exhaled a shuddering breath. Ezra pushed their empty cups aside and rested his elbows on the table, his stance more alert than when they had started their conversation.

“Why don’t you continue? You said you joined the Resistance with Leia?”

Rey nodded, still unsure of what exactly she should reveal. “When I met up with the Resistance, Leia tasked me with finding Master Skywalker and to bring him back.”

Ezra’s hand rubbed at his beard before covering his mouth. “Did you find him?”

“Eventually, yes. But he refused to join us. He had…cut himself off from the Force.”

He shut his eyes but did not interrupt her and Rey wondered if he had guessed at the reason for such drastic action from his…she did not even know what to call them, bringing to the forefront of her mind her earlier thoughts on their relationship.

“Are you and Master Skywalker a dyad?”

His eyes shot open at the sudden shift in topic. “How do you know what a dyad is?”

She pushed down her embarrassment as she answered, “I don’t, I just assumed that the Bond between you—”

“Is a normal Force Bond—a dyad is…” he exhaled a long breath, eyes on the droid at the other end of the refectory as he gathered his thoughts.

“Ben and I are a dyad,” Rey confessed in a low voice, watching him carefully to gauge his reaction. The Master’s eyebrows rose minutely but otherwise he was subdued, even his signature was restrained. “But neither of us know how we are or what it is.”

“You’ve told Ben about all this?” He seemed surprised and Rey scratched at a phantom itch around her wrist, thankful for the imagined distraction.

“No, just the dyad thing—kind of difficult to hide the connection when we can feel each other so acutely.” She tried not to blush as she thought back on the kinds of feelings they had exchanged across their Bond.

“How has he not realized what you are through your Bond?”

Rey shrugged. “That’s a question for him and Luke—they’ve been discussing their issues—Ben was the one who recognized our Bond and that we were a dyad the…first time…in my old life.” Her words were halting as she dredged up the memories of their early conversations and his scholarly fascination.

Why is the Force connecting us?

“Come on,” Ezra’s voice shook her from her stupor. The Jedi rose and gestured for her to follow.

Rey balked. “Are you taking me to Master Skywalker to confess?” She hated how small her voice sounded in that moment. Rey tried to keep her hand from twitching to her saber at her belt.

He seemed hurt that she would assume the worst. “No, we’re going to the kitchen to get more caf and then outside for some fresh air.”

They sat on one of the stone benches beyond the training grounds, the lake before them in the distance and the wind at their backs from the open fields. Ezra sat beside her, his Jedi robes folded in his lap as he surveyed the planet. Its stillness reminded her of the desert, yet beneath the facade of emptiness, an entire ecosystem of living flora and fauna carried on—the lifeblood of the planet. The cup of fresh caf warmed her fingers as she balanced it on her knees, her legs drawn up to rest on the bench.

“It’s a little difficult to explain what Luke and I are to each other. Once you form a Bond with someone it’s as if you’ve known them your entire life, both of you getting tangled up in each other in the Force,” Ezra explained quietly, the breeze ruffling his thick hair that appeared blue under the binary moons.

“Luke is the air in my lungs, the sunlight on my skin.” The corner of Ezra’s lip tugged upward. “We are each other’s heart and soul.”

Rey’s eyebrows had slowly crawled up at his speech, wondering with trepidation that if that was a normal Force Bond, what did it mean to be a dyad?

“It’s all a little poetic and metaphorical,” the Jedi waved his hand lazily. “Whereas a dyad is more literal…”

She leaned forward, “In what way?”

“Your life forces are connected, you draw from and sustain each other. Your soul is intertwined with Ben’s on a cosmic level.” He paused, frowning at his caf. “It’s dangerous if one of you decides to abuse the connection—”

“Or if the Sith capture us,” Rey concluded darkly. “A while after Master Skywalker had helped the Resistance, a darkness had crept into the Force, trying to draw me in and further warp Ben’s mind.” She danced around Luke’s sacrifice, hoping Ezra would not notice. “It was a suffocating presence,” Rey recalled, shivering like the last leaf on a barren tree. Ezra gently draped his robes over her shoulders, the brown Jedi raiment large and comfortingly warm. “Like tendrils of crackling lightning creeping up my spine.” She tried not to think about the lightning that had sparked at her fingertips during her sparring session.

“Palpatine?” Ezra spat, his face contorting in silent rage. “He’s dead, it’s impossible—”

Rey shook her head. “This creature, Snoke, was carrying out his master’s Final Order—they had the Emperor’s DNA on file and dozens of cloned bodies—husks really—and to imbue them with sentience they would need an immense amount of life force energy…”

“No one, not even the Sith, can bring back the dead,” Ezra interjected with almost panicked fervor, his own caf abandoned on the bench between them. The color seemed to drain from his face as he took in her expression, guessing where she was going with her story.

“They needed the dyad,” Rey explained, shrugging helplessly. “Snoke claimed it had the ‘power of life itself’.”

Ezra put his head in his hands, fingers running through his dark hair as he tugged on the strands before straightening, his face expressionless. “Did it work? Is that how you were sent back here? Something go wrong with the transference?”

Rey frowned. “No, Ben and I refused to join Snoke and we pushed back the First Order and Sith acolytes together but…” she hesitated, unwilling to recall the moment, though her new body seemed to remember the pain well. “They had already drained so much from Ben that I couldn’t…there wasn’t anything I could…” Her breathing grew short and quick before Ezra took her hand in his, squeezing tightly. She focused on the physical pain of his grip to escape the memory.

“There wasn’t anything you could do without giving away your own life force to sustain him. It’s all right Rey, letting go is a natural part of—”

“No!” she sobbed as she wrenched her hand free, the hollowness in her chest where her Ben had found a home was nothing but an empty pit. A crack had appeared in the bench, the stone splitting at her anger but Rey did not care, she didn’t want to let him go, to release her emotions into the Force as she had been taught. They had clutched each other desperately as he pushed what remained of his life force to restore hers. She held him in her arms as the last of him drifted into the unknown to become one with the Force, his body growing heavier and emptier. Rey remembered the feeling of trying to hold onto his life force as it slipped away, like keeping water cupped in her palms. When she spoke again her voice was a hoarse whisper. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Ezra allowed the silence to nest between them and did not stare as she composed herself. She wiped her tears away with the sleeve of his robe, but he did not comment on it. The moons were low in the sky, the ribbons of light on the horizon lightening with dawn’s approach.

“Why do I…feel this way? Kylo Ren was a remorseless monster who rebuked the light at every turn—I knew him as Ben for only days. His decision came too late in the end so why do I—” She could not bring herself to even give voice to the ridiculous notion. Leia had been married to Han for decades, their love strong despite the distance between them in his final years; Finn and Poe had been around each other for years before they finally admitted their feelings; even Ezra and Luke appeared to have known each other for decades, the harmony of their Bond a soothing symphony in the Force.

“It’s the nature of the dyad,” Ezra explained softly. “You could no more hate him than hate yourself.”

That was very easy, Rey wanted to say but kept the dark thought to herself.

“He is your other half, and you his, the song of your souls resonating so loudly through the Force that they were made manifest in the two of you—a perfect balance.”

“Seems to be a theme of mine,” she grumbled just loud enough to draw a weary chuckle out of Ezra. They sat in easy silence as he finally drank his lukewarm caf.

“Did you go looking for it?” He spoke after a few minutes had lapsed. At her furrowed brow he clarified, “Did you search for a way to bring Ben back?”

Her instinct was to deny it, but the Force seemed to constrict around her, her throat suddenly too thick to allow the false words to tumble past her lips. He sighed and leaned back to look up at the sky.

“Do you know of Mortis?”

A conduit through which the entire Force of the universe flows, the same soft voice from before echoed in the back of her mind, a man with an accent like hers.

“What about the Father, the Son, and the Daughter?” Ezra prompted at her silence.

We are the ones who guard the power. We are the middle, the beginning, and the end…a woman’s voice murmured gently in her mind.

Even as Rey frowned and shook her head to silently answer Ezra, the Force helpfully provided a visual for her, as though the image had been locked away in her memory—a beautiful mural of a trio that appeared humanoid, yet otherworldly. There was something familiar about them, but foreign to her at the same time. With the Force flowing through her thoughts ever since she had returned to the past, it was difficult to tell her own memories apart from the vast tapestry of knowledge that was the Force.

“Well, they’re more of Ahsoka’s story to tell than mine.” Ezra sighed heavily. “You’ve spent the last couple hours confessing, I think it’s time I told you the truth—my truth. There was a time when I was in an impossible situation and my Master…Kanan…made the decision to sacrifice himself to save lives—not just mine and Hera’s, but his son’s as well, though I’m not sure if he knew about Jacen at the time.”

Rey’s eyebrows shot up at the revelation that Ezra’s master had been Jacen’s father. She remained silent, not yet piecing together how this story fit in to her current predicament.

“Some time after Kanan died, I found myself haunted by visions in the Force, a Loth-wolf that only spoke one word—”

“Dume,” Rey guessed correctly.

Ezra nodded. “After the Jedi Purge, a young Padawan named Caleb Dume went on the run, forsaking the Force, and became Kanan Jarrus. I don’t really know all the details, but at some point he met up with Hera and Chop, Sabine, and Zeb. I didn’t come into the picture until I was around fifteen. I’d stolen some cargo from them while they were hustling on Lothal.” He chuckled at the memory and Rey was surprised that the Jedi before her used to be a brash kid once.

“Anyway, Kanan sensed the Force in me and took me on as his Padawan—after some convincing of course. We carried on together for a few years, the Ghost making a name for itself in the Rebellion before it was formally the Rebellion. Even had a run-in with Leia once—looking back on it now, it seemed the Force was bringing us together.” He shook his head, as if to dislodge long-forgotten memories. “After Kanan’s sacrifice, the Force kept pulling me back to Lothal—to the temple there.”

“Isn’t that where Poe took Ahsoka?”

Ezra nodded. “There is a mural near the temple,” he went on. “The entrance to the World Between Worlds.”

A conduit between the living and the dead, the sinister voice shot through her mind like lightning.

“The gateway of stars,” Rey whispered, recalling Ahsoka’s words during her initial meeting with the masters.

“A nexus of time and space in the Force,” Ezra clarified. “I accessed it through the mural of the triad and found myself nowhere and everywhere at once. Endless voices spilling out from behind infinite gateways.” He exhaled deeply, eyes bright as he retreated into the memory; it seemed an exhilarating experience. “There were portals from different points in time, not just my own—it was there that I was able to save Ahsoka from her duel with Vader—by literally pulling her out of that moment in time and into the World Between Worlds.”

Rey’s headache had returned, though this time from unconsciously clenching her jaw. She could not remember what she had done before she’d been thrown back in time—but pulling Ben out of that moment on Exegol seemed like something she would do—removing him from the equation so Snoke and the Sith acolytes could no longer resurrect the Emperor.

“We then witnessed Kanan’s…that moment…and I wanted nothing more than to just pull him into the nexus with us, to save him.” His eyes dropped to his hands in his lap.

Rey knew even before he continued that he did not go through with it.

“Ahsoka explained that if I had taken him out of that moment in the past, then his sacrifice would not have happened and we would have all died.”

She frowned, attempting to find another solution. “But if you had pulled him through and your past self had died as a result, then who would later go on to pull Kanan out of that moment? You could have saved him and lived—”

“No.” The Jedi’s voice was hard, yet brittle, a thin stalactite of ice that would shatter if nudged by the slightest breeze. The darkness that suddenly shadowed his gaze sent a chill sweeping down her spine. “No, Kanan was always meant to…die. Just as I was always meant to save Ahsoka and learn that lesson.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Rey mumbled into her knees as she turned back to face the lake. “Maybe I tried to pull Ben into the World and the Force didn’t really like that so it sent me here instead.”

Ezra watched her carefully, interested in her sudden admission. “I thought you didn’t remember what happened?”

“I don’t,” she shrugged. “But it seems to make sense.”

“The World Between Worlds is a dangerous place—a temptation to Jedi and Sith alike,” Ezra murmured, recalling his harrowing escape with Ahsoka, Palpatine’s cackling laugh echoing through time and space as tendrils of blue flames wrapped around his ankle. He also remembered the voice of the Son as he sealed the portal—The future, by its nature, can be changed. Is that why the Force had sent Rey here?

They sat in silence for a few minutes, though he wanted to ask her a thousand more questions about her past—the future. She raised a silent eyebrow, doubtless feeling his anticipation in the Force. He turned to face her, bracing himself for how he would approach the next problem.

“So Luke and I…and the others…couldn’t help but notice your…lack of shields.”

Her cheeks burned red and she tucked her chin deeper into the crook of her knees, raising her shoulders to hide her face. She mumbled noncommittally. Ezra felt her signature retreat hastily as she clumsily attempted to shield herself mentally.

“It’s definitely something we need to work on in general, so we can set aside time after lectures to train you. But for now, I wanted to see if maybe I could find something in your subconscious that you’re unaware of.”

She frowned, her spine stiff. “You want to root around my head?”

“No, no,” he amended quickly as he moved to kneel before her. “Think of it like perusing the archives, going through files as you search for the right one. I think the right one, the one showing how you got here is there, just mixed up in the filing system.”

“The archives,” she repeated dubiously. “My life on full display?”

Ezra paled. “I won’t look at anything you don’t want me, not without your permission.”

She scoffed. “How can I do that? I don’t have any shields, like you said. You can just take whatever you want.” She didn’t bother to hide her disgust. It was not her first time having someone else in her head.

His jaw ached from suddenly clenching it—he would find whoever had broken into her mind and stolen her private thoughts and he would make them pay. He would rip that dank farrik a new scughole. Luke would tell him it was not the Jedi way, but Ezra would tell him to kriff off. Thrawn would tell him there were more refined ways of torturing someone, and Ezra would tell him to kriff off too.

“We’ll be in there together.” Ezra explained in a low voice, pushing aside his violent thoughts (for now).

Rey frowned quizzically. “Together?” He nodded and she averted her gaze.

“Have you never Mind Walked before?”

“Master Bridger,” she jerked her head back to toss a strand of hair out of her eyes. Ah, he made her uncomfortable again. “Let’s just assume there are lots of things I haven’t done before. The only other time someone was in my head was against my will where he just…”

Rey kept her gaze fixed over Ezra’s shoulder, onto the glittering lake and the sky beyond where the moons dipped lower beneath the horizon.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Rey,” he spoke softly, his hand on hers, drawing her attention back on him. “Mind Walking can be a very cathartic and rewarding experience, if done right.” He straightened, blocking her view of the encroaching dawn. “I won’t force you into anything, but I will insist that we work on your shielding—so that you take back control of your own mind.”

Her eyes shined in the weak light as she considered his words before nodding. “Where do we start?”

Ezra grinned and stepped back, motioning for her to join him as he assumed a meditative pose. She did not hide her groan and he chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’s not all silent meditation, though it does require a calm mind as you reach out to the Force.”

His robes dwarfed her thin frame, pooling around her as she sat before him, her back rigid and her eyes squeezed shut. He tried not to laugh as he cleared his own mind, easily sensing the muted signatures of the Padawans in the Praxeum—checking on Jacen before moving on to Luke, unsurprised to find him stirring from sleep, gingerly pushing a dozing E’ika off his face, Ezra’s Loth-cat unwilling to retract her claws from Luke’s tunic.

“Not so ika anymore these days,” Luke had grumbled to him once as he shoved the large (and overfed) feline onto Ezra where she had landed with a heavy thud on his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

“‘Spectre Eight’ is a mouthful,” Ezra had complained. Luke had only shrugged apathetically.

“Should’a named her something else then,” was all he had said before disappearing into the refresher.

Assured that all was well, Ezra widened his scope of focus, feeling every plant and every animal around the Praxeum. He turned his attention to Rey, a bright supernova in the Force. “Can you feel it?” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear, gently enough not to distract her focus.

“Yes,” she mumbled in return. “A calm push and pull, like the waves of the lake.”

“Good, now picture in your mind’s eye a shield around your thoughts.”

“Like a deflector shield?”

Ezra considered her words, she wasn’t wrong. “They don’t have to literally be ray shields—though in your case they’d be Rey shields.” He laughed softly when she groaned at the joke. “It’s what comes to mind for most when first practicing shielding, for others it’s a duracrete wall, others its people or objects—something that makes them feel safe, protected. Find that and you’ve got a shield in the Force.”

He meditated in patient silence for the better part of an hour as Rey built her shields up with the same intensity as younglings stacking rocks for the first time using the Force. Her first shields would not be ironclad, but she needed the foundation to build them up and eventually be comfortable enough to call on them unconsciously.

“What do you think?” Ezra asked when she at last opened her eyes.

She bit her lip. “Can I show you?”

He nodded with a reassuring smile. “I’m going to reach out to your mind, gently, and sort of give the Force equivalent of a ship hail, all right?”

She snorted softly at his analogy but nodded as she shut her eyes in concentration.

He furrowed a brow when he did not encounter any kind of traditional walls or fortifications on the very periphery of her mind—as Padawans were wont to do when learning shielding. She seemed to welcome him further in without actually allowing him into her mindscape yet. In the void between their mental connection, a menacing figure all in black stood before Ezra. Its face was covered with an opaque and smooth black mask as it regarded him silently. It held out a saberstaff parallel to the ground in a familiar stance before igniting it—a deflector shield erupting from the emitters and creating a barrier expanding out from the figure—a silent sentinel guarding her thoughts. Ezra smirked before he withdrew from her mind.

“Well done,” he praised, his wide smile mirrored weakly on her own face, slightly pale and drawn. “How do you feel?”

“Ready for a Mind Walk,” she braced her hands on her knees, her gaze intense.

Ezra chose his words carefully as he held up a steadying hand. “You don’t have to try tonight, we can keep working on shielding until you’re confident—”

“I’m confident you wouldn’t hurt me,” she interrupted, her cheeks red in the predawn light.

He studied her for a few more minutes and, to her credit, she did not fidget under his gaze. Nodding, he opened his hands out to her, her smooth fingers cold against his rough palms. He slipped into her open mind with as much grace as a Jedi Master could manage. Her thoughts were a jumble of images as memories flashed by chaotically.

“Focus on what you want—an archive, remember?” His voice, though soft, seemed to echo loudly in her mindscape. The blurred images began to slow as she wrested control over herself.

A desert shimmered by in a series of quick flashes, her life on Jakku. She seemed to want to quickly move away from those memories. Ezra caught a glimpse of a young man, a curious round droid, Han and Chewie, a beautiful glittering lake and a familiar alien, Maz—before they found themselves outside under a downpour.

A masked person in black stalked towards them with heavy steps, the rain hissing as it made contact with their red saber.

They were suddenly in a forest, the masked figure approaching Rey who fired her blaster at them fruitlessly, the bolts deflected by a crackling red saber. Ezra frowned and stepped forward before the memory shifted—Rey standing frozen in the Force, the masked figure’s gloved hand outstretched, nearly touching her head, her face contorted in fear and pain. “The map…you’ve seen it,” they spoke through a vocoder.

Interesting, she had repurposed this menacing figure who had invaded her shieldless mind to be her guardian?

The memory shifted again, Rey imprisoned, the edges of the room hazy and out of focus.

“You know I can take whatever I want?”

Ezra felt his muscles tense—he knew that voice.

Rey pulled him out of the jumbled memory so quickly they nearly stumbled off the edge of the Falcon in the new memory. She clutched at his arm to steady him and pull him back. Glancing around, he was surprised at the sight of her older self—not because she was lounging on top of the ship, but because of the harsh scar that cut across her face from her eyebrow to her cheek. She gazed sightlessly at the clouds overhead, her melancholy palpable even in a memory. The Rey beside him seemed embarrassed that they had landed on this thought and she shut her eyes in concentration, attempting to take them elsewhere.

“Rey? You out here?” a familiar voice called out. The memory-Rey retracted her dangling feet so they were no longer visible over the edge of the ship. Ezra leaned over and spotted a familiar pilot—older with frown-lines and threads of silver running through his curly black hair. He turned his attention back on Rey, ignoring the infinite sadness that seemed to emanate from the memory-Rey who curled in on herself as she hid from Poe.

Ezra put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Just focus on your goal—what did you discover that made you want to try to bring Ben back?”

Ben…Rey’s mindscape seemed to echo with her own anguished voice overlapping endlessly. Suddenly, they were in a dark and rocky place, lightning flashing overhead as two figures clutched at each other on the ground, corpses littered around them, a bisected alien corpse near what appeared to be a throne. When the two pulled apart, Ezra recognized Ben, his hair longer, his face and body bloodied and weary after battle but smiling crookedly—at Rey, her face freshly scarred, an alarming amount of blood soaking her tunic. His hands stroked her uninjured cheek with a delicate tenderness that Ezra had only seen from the boy while he worked on his calligraphy.

“No, no, no, no,” the Rey beside him whispered as she shut her eyes, unwilling to witness what was coming—the fracturing of a dyad. The menacing masked figure seemed half-formed as it shimmered before them to guard the memory. Ezra turned away—the loss of her soulmate was not something she wanted him to see, even if she didn’t know how to articulate that desire.

She pulled them from the scene and onto a ship piloted by the scarred Rey of the future, a grim determination set in her jaw as she consulted the star chart connected to a pyramidal device.

“Is that—” Ezra stepped closer in the memory, the edges growing hazy the longer they remained in it. He knew Rey’s control was tenuous and this memory would not hold—it was one she did not recall well, or one that she didn’t want to remember.

“A Sith wayfinder,” Rey confirmed, her shoulders squared as she stared at her past self.

“Rey—”

“It’s the only way to find and reach the planet Exegol. I was going back for…I had to leave his b-body when we escaped. I was going back for it…”

Ezra focused on his Rey who stared outside the viewport, unseeing. “I told you before, cyar’ika, no one, not even the Sith, can bring back the dead.”

Rey frowned at his words, her gaze still on the stars streaking past. “No, I found something…something that would…that’s why I…”

Alarms blaring from the co*ckpit broke through the haze as the ship began to shudder. The scarred Rey cursed as she flipped switches and yanked hard on the steering column just as the ship dropped out of hyperspace and the yawning chasm of a black hole filled the viewport.

Despite being in a memory, Ezra felt his stomach drop at the encroaching nothingness. Both Reys began to hyperventilate, the ship sensors screaming as the ship itself began to shudder and groan under the gravitational forces. He could see pieces of the ship break off and fall into the gravity well, disappearing into the darkness. Ezra decided it was time to withdraw. Just as the memory of Rey attempted to fruitlessly steer her ship back on course, his Rey appeared to seize—shaking on the spot, her eyes rolling back. Ezra caught her before she could fall and quickly pulled them both out of her memory and back into the present.

The sounds of the planet seemed to rush back from a void, the fauna rustling in the underbrush, birds in the trees heralding dawn.

Rey stumbled on her feet as she rushed to the bushes, barely making it before emptying the contents of her stomach, retching and choking on tears.

Ezra gently pulled her hair out of her face. Force knew how many times he’d done the same for Sabine in the years she’d grown out her hair. She’d stumble onto the Ghost after partaking in another infamous Mandalorian bender—they were the only ones who knew how to drink someone under a table it seemed, especially where pride and competition was concerned—and head straight for the ’fresher where Ezra would be waiting. It had been one of the primary reasons she’d shorn it short again.

Ezra stood beside Rey, shielding her from Luke who had begun his morning walk. He sensed his approach, curiosity clear across their Bond as he wondered why Ezra was still awake. Luke knew Ezra valued his sleep above most things—and the cold side of their bed would rule out any hopes of trying to convince Luke he merely woke up extra early today.

“What’s all that about?” Luke nodded in Rey’s direction, taking a concerned step forward before Ezra held up a hand and flashed him a small smile.

“A little overindulgence in Jacen’s mystery flask, nothing I haven’t handled before.”

Luke’s blue eyes were bright in the dawn light as they studied Ezra who continued rubbing a soothing hand on Rey’s back. She had stiffened at Luke’s sudden appearance and had not released the tension in her muscles.

Luke nodded, though Ezra could tell he wanted to investigate using their Bond—unfortunately for him, Ezra had put up his own walls and his face was a perfect mask—nothing less than perfect for someone who spent years around Thrawn. It sickened him, but Ezra knew how to lie, even to those he loved and cherished most. It is for the sake of others, not ourselves, that we must sometimes conceal our intentions, Thrawn’s low voice echoed in his memory.

“Make sure she gets a rehydration pack from the med droid,” Luke intoned, concern clear in his voice. Ezra nodded, knowing the drill after many similar incidents with Jacen. When Luke continued on his morning walk, R2 wheeling behind him silently, Ezra turned back to Rey as she pushed away from the bush.

“I’m sorry, Master Bridger,” she managed to gasp after a few more minutes of dry heaving.

He sighed, they were back to ‘Master’ after all that? “Are you all right? I shouldn’t have pulled you out so quick, it can be jarring—especially when you anchor yourself to the memory.”

“‘Anchor’?” She straightened slowly as she faced him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“It’s when you cling to a memory—like a maghook—normally it’s not a problem, but to do it just as I was pulling us out? Not fun.”

She scoffed in agreement, a small strained smile on her lips. He reached out in the Force to ensure she was all right, stepping forward to cup her cheek, his thumb wiping away residual tears. Her signature seemed stable now after the chaotic explosion of witnessing a forgotten, fractured memory.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, looking down at her feet.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, cyar’ika.” His tone was gentle but firm, unwilling to watch as she smothered the bright flame of her power beneath meekness and embarrassment. She was a wonder—a marvel in the Force—she had gone through a black hole and survived, she had journeyed beyond the event horizon and lived to tell the tale.

Chapter 12: The Gauntlet

Chapter Text

Rey returned to the waking world with aching muscles, stiff joints, and a throat as dry as the Jakku sands. She had faded in and out of consciousness, her exhausted mind pulling her under a smothering spell every time she woke. Kira had pounced onto her at some point, her knee leaving a bruising kiss at the base of Rey’s spine as evidence of her presence. She had been vaguely aware of someone entering her room to usher Kira away in hushed tones and soft movements but could not find the energy to crack open her eyes which felt welded shut.

After her ordeal with Ezra, the Jedi had escorted her to the infirmary where he easily retrieved two rehydration packs from one of the square shelves set into the stone walls, pressing one into her hand and tucking the other in the pocket of his robes still draped around her. When she made to remove the cloak, he insisted she keep it since he had plenty.

“Is it not the Jedi way to forsake worldly possessions?” Rey had joked as she sucked on the rehydration nozzle, her eyebrows shooting up at the explosion of taste from the little pouch, the liquid cool and welcome on her tongue.

He had chuckled at that. “Some Jedi make it a habit of losing their robes. I’m simply prepared for that eventuality.”

Ezra had made it sound like it was an inevitable fatal flaw for all Jedi. She could not recall her Luke having more than one tattered cloak and Leia had always been utilitarian (yet fashionable) in her outerwear. Ezra had steered her towards the senior Padawan dormitory with ease. “You’ll need your rest. After Mind Walking, you’ll find yourself a little more drained than normal.”

“Please don’t tell me the cure is meditation,” she mumbled around the nozzle.

“For some it can be—but the best cure is sleep. Just don’t overdo it.”

She had definitely overdone it, she thought as she stiffly moved into a seated position, stretching her limbs and rubbing her face to chase away the last vestiges of sleep. Glancing out her window at the swath of orange and red light did not tell her much. Ezra had explained that the two days after the Feast were always days of respite for the Praxeum, where lessons were suspended as everyone readjusted to the planet’s cycle—‘and for the senior Padawans and masters to sleep off their hangovers,’ was left unsaid. She could vaguely hear voices of shrieking younglings outside, though it was the noise of laughter and gameplay as they chased one another.

Rey frowned when her bare feet touched the stone floor of her room—she could not recall removing her shoes, now tucked neatly by the door—nor did she remember much after collapsing onto her bed, only Ezra bidding her a good night in his soft voice.

Her head throbbed and her stomach clenched in a way she was familiar with, the pain of emptiness. Ezra’s robes were hung up on a hook by the door and she padded over to search the pockets for the second rehydration pack, sucking down the contents greedily. It was not enough, she’d have to venture out to the refectory for real food and to reorient herself. She had no idea how long she had been caught in a state of unconsciousness, grateful that her sleep had been dreamless—especially after Mind Walking into old, painful memories.

Rey pushed aside thoughts of her ship and the black hole as she styled her hair in a twist reminiscent of Rose before pulling on her shoes, hooking her saber to her belt and departing her room.

“Sixteen hours?” Rey exclaimed, the room spinning as she took in the information. Jacen smirked as he continued to shovel food into his mouth.

“Impressive actually,” he went on with a growing smile. “Won me a couple credits too.”

“Is there anything you lot won’t bet on?” She grumbled as she pushed the food around on her plate. Hearty meats and legumes were the meal of the day with a healthy helping of leafy greens. Rey had never been partial to plant food, but Poe and Finn had assured her it was better than the Resistance and First Order rations that they’d had to contend with. Besides, they were nutritious and her malnourished body had needed all the help it could get after she left Jakku and joined the Resistance.

Jacen considered her words seriously. “Nope—except maybe the masters’ love lives.” He shivered at some memory.

A few more younglings ran into the refectory, whispering conspiratorially and Rey raised an eyebrow at them. Kira and Asha were off in another corner, heads tucked close as one of their friends spoke, gesticulating excitedly. Kira’s hair was gathered into one bun at the top of her head, loose strands framing her face. Rey watched, confused about their behavior until Lorna arrived.

She stood at their table with her hand on her hip, glaring at Jacen. “Beat it, Syndulla, girl talk time.”

He scoffed, undeterred by her tone. “Like any strategy is gonna help—face it, you’re gonna lose.”

“Says last year’s loser,” she shot back, sliding onto the bench and easily shoving him off the end.

Jacen stood up suddenly, pointy eyebrows pulled together in a frown as he levitated his tray of food. “You’ll regret that when I’m a master, Lorna.”

The Mirialan merely smirked and wiggled her yellow fingers to usher him and his floating food away.

“What’s happening?” Rey was blunt, her food forgotten as she gestured with her hand at Jacen’s retreating back. “I thought we’re all relaxing and readjusting after the Feast?”

“Pff,” Lorna laughed. “This is exclusive Gauntlet-planning-time.”

Rey had nearly forgotten about that—one of the main reasons for Merrin’s stay beyond the Feast and Family Week. The excitement at the Praxeum could be felt even without the Force. The Padawans and younglings gathered in groups made sense now, devising strategy and predicting what trials they might face. She searched for Kira among the youngling groups but could not locate her.

“What are they doing?” Rey asked instead, refocusing her attention on the senior Padawan seated before her.

“Some form alliances or deals but normally there’s a clear divide in the age groups.”

Rey frowned, thinking of Kira again. “Shouldn’t we look out for the younglings?”

“It’s every Padawan for themselves.” Lorna’s face was deadly serious.

“Isn’t it unfair to pit us against the junior Padawans and the younglings?” Rey pressed distractedly as a small scuffle broke out amongst the junior Padawans. Lorna was unbothered by it and the dispute was resolved when one group darted out of the refectory hastily before a fight could form. “I thought the Gauntlet was some kind of training exercise.”

“An exercise in who’s the best,” Lorna clenched her fist with a hungry smile. “I mean, sure it’s a training exercise too. We don’t usually target the younglings,” she assuaged.

“‘Usually’?” Rey echoed weakly.

“We stick to our age group.” Lorna carried on, reaching out to grab a piece of Rey’s abandoned food. “That’s why we split up—me, you, and Pela against Jacen, Quis, Tak, and Lorrik.”

“What about Ben?” Rey studiously avoided the Mirialan’s knowing gaze.

“Ben doesn’t do teams. Besides, it’s more fun when it’s the bunch of us versus the golden boy.”

An unbidden memory surfaced—her Ben’s memory—as he fought against the Knights of Ren alone, evading and taking them down with ease before handing off his saber to her through the Force.

Rey frowned at Lorna’s words but did not press for further information as she pushed the memory aside. “That’s not a very fair split,” she asked instead. “Has it always been just the two of you against the four—five—of them?”

Lorna smirked as she crossed her arms, the black material of her tunic sleeves sliding like liquid against the wooden surface. “Pela and I have never had any issues taking down those fools. They’re disorganized and Jacen always comes up with some wild maneuver that never works. With you joining us this year? We’ll wipe the floor with them.”

There was a ravenous gleam in the Mirialan’s eyes and Rey vowed never to get on her bad side. Rey agreed with some reluctance. “How do we do this?”

“Our biggest threat to deal with is Ben, he usually uses the jungle to his advantage and masks his signature—” Lorna choked and Rey felt a spike of alarm run through her, worried the food had lodged in her throat. “You,” Lorna continued, as though seeing Rey for the first time. “You can sense his signature even if he masks it…ohohoho this is perfect, Pela is going to love this.” She rubbed her hands together as she silently came up with a plan.

Rey’s palms were clammy. “How do you know—”

“That you two have a Force Bond? Pela may be adept with the physical Force, but I’m more attuned to the spiritual side.” At Rey’s stunned silence, she added with a shrug, “Besides, without the HoloNet, the best source of entertainment is eavesdropping on the masters.”

Rey shut her eyes for a moment and gathered herself, releasing her sudden fear into the Force. “Say for a minute that I’m willing to spy on Ben for you—”

She made a face. “Is it really spying? You’d just be…scoping out his location for us. Like a radar!” Lorna’s smile was not as assuring as she assumed.

“Whatever, spying, detecting—what’s in it for me?”

She frowned. “What do you mean? If we win the Gauntlet we get laurels and the sweet satisfaction of beating Solo.” She clenched her fist in front of her face.

“Ben usually wins?” Rey’s eyebrows shot up, though she was unsure why she was surprised.

Lorna scoffed and crossed her arms glumly. “Yeah—why do you think we call him the golden boy? He can do no wrong.”

Rey doubted the veracity of that, but held her silence as she processed the information. “What good is it, knowing Ben’s location in the Gauntlet?”

“Once we dispose of the boys and whatever Jacen’s got planned, we can coordinate a three-pronged approach and corner Ben.”

“I still don’t even know what the Gauntlet is—are we fighting each other with sabers?”

“You’re not supposed to use your sabers on each other,” a light voice broke through their hushed conversation and both women started.

“Master T—Ahsoka,” Rey exclaimed. Her relief was evident in the Force; she had been worried ever since Poe had returned without her. “When did you get back?”

The Togruta smiled warmly, sensing Rey’s joy. The blue and white ensemble she wore seemed to highlight the bright blue of her eyes. She straightened, her hands clasped behind her back as she observed the refectory.

“This morning. I’d wanted to see you but Ezra informed me you were a little under the weather.” There was a knowing look in her eye though she didn’t reveal anything in front of Lorna. “To answer your question, the Gauntlet is mostly traps and trials set up by the masters and Merrin’s magick to test your skills and reflexes.” The last few words were pointedly for Lorna who merely smirked as she readjusted her head veil.

“Another test?”

“Not as formal and the intent is for the students to have fun,” Ahsoka continued over Lorna’s scoff. “It was more singularly-focused in the early days of the Praxeum but, as it grew, the Gauntlet became a team-building exercise when students naturally gravitated towards group work.”

“Is there a prize for the winner?” Rey was unconvinced by Lorna’s insistent whisper of ‘bragging rights’.

Ahsoka smiled, one hand coming up to cradle her chin as she considered Rey’s words. “Respect from the masters, of course.” She did not notice, or perhaps simply ignored, Lorna’s heavy eye-roll. “We usually use the Gauntlet as a test to promote students between levels—we might have a few junior Padawans graduate to senior Padawans this time.”

“They wish,” Lorna sniffed before raising her hands placatingly at the Togruta. “I mean, if they’re good enough they can join our ranks, sure.”

“Might even see some senior Padawans promoted to Knights,” Ahsoka went on, a sly smile growing at Lorna’s expression. “If they’re good enough.”

“But can we help out the younglings?” Rey’s stomach clenched at the thought of Kira alone—or at least, alone in her small group of friends.

Ahsoka’s head swayed slightly from side to side. “Well, normally the junior and senior Padawans don’t interfere with the younglings—for better or for worse—and make the experience even more harrowing. You can observe and advise, but it’s best to just leave them to master the Gauntlet at their own pace.”

“You’ll be too busy fending off overconfident juniors to worry about your sister,” Lorna added bluntly as she took another piece of food of Rey’s abandoned tray. “She’ll be fine. Probably.”

Rey felt her agitation rise up to the surface in the Force so suddenly that the white markings above Ahsoka’s eyes rose. She exhaled and released the emotion into the Force—it wouldn’t do for the Togruta to be concerned about Rey’s apparent lack of control over her own emotions. When she felt a foreign feeling probe at the outer edges of her mental awareness, Rey immediately deployed her guardian in black.

Ahsoka nodded as though satisfied before clearing her throat. “Lorna, if you could give us a minute?”

The Mirialan smiled and rose easily, winking at Rey and promising to corner her later with Pela once she met up with the weapons master. Ahsoka gestured for Rey to follow as she led her out of the refectory and onto the training grounds where a few students were making use of their free time to train for the Gauntlet, jumping the gaps between the ruined pillars using the Force to buoy them, waving training sabers at imaginary foes.

“I’ve heard about it, but I’m eager to see it with my own eyes.” Ahsoka’s gaze flicked down to the saber at Rey’s belt. “I’ve only ever known Master Windu to possess a purple saber.”

Rey smirked as she indulged the woman, dropping into her opening stance, her saber held aloft before her in one hand, her other hand ready at her back. She faltered when a haunted look seemed to suddenly cloud Ahsoka’s face.

I see the Padawan needs one last lesson, a condescending voice echoed in the Force, a dreadful feeling filled Rey’s stomach like a heavy stone. She straightened out of her stance and addressed the Togruta. “Are you all right?”

Whatever memories had risen to the surface of Ahsoka’s mind had disappeared in a blink as she managed to flash Rey a small smile. “Perfectly. Show me what you’ve learned.” She unclipped her twin sabers and ignited them as she fell into her own opening stance.

Rey was momentarily stunned at the double white blades that shone brightly even in the daylight. She chastised herself when Ahsoka lunged, taking advantage of her distraction. There were clearly many things about lightsabers and their colors that Rey did not know, she could not react like a child with baffled wonderment at every moment. That being said, later she would ask Pela or Ben what a white plasma meant.

She parried the shorter blade and used her staff to her advantage, adding distance between them as she considered her strategy. The Togruta was surprisingly acrobatic in her movements, fluid like a dancer as she wove around Rey, her feet nimble and light. Fighting an opponent with two sabers rather than multiple opponents each with their own was a unique experience. Rey could not anticipate which saber Ahsoka would swing based on her footwork and body language, making it more difficult to find an opportunity to strike herself.

“I didn’t think you’d be a defensive, meek opponent, Rey,” the older woman baited.

Rey almost fell into the trap but bit her lip and watched her wrists rather than her feet. When the Togruta thrust both blades forward, Rey seized the moment and trapped them between her own blades.

“Huh,” Ahsoka intoned, eyes on the folded purple saber. “Neat trick. I’ve got one too.” She deactivated both blades, causing Rey to stumble forward against the sudden lack of resistance.

She caught herself with the Force, leaping forward into a weightless cartwheel before spinning around to face Ahsoka who smiled. “That’s—I could’ve…” Rey could only sputter as she gestured at Ahsoka’s unlit sabers which she clipped to her hips.

She shrugged. “Yeah it’s dangerous, but it’s also fun.”

This is where the fun begins, a young voice laced with excitement echoed through the Force—Ahsoka’s, Rey realized as she powered down her saber before doubling over, hands on her knees to catch her breath.

The spar with Ahsoka had somehow been more intense than her past spars with Pela and the other senior Padawans. The Togruta did not appear winded as she crossed her arms, observing Rey with an amused smile.

“It’s interesting,” Ahsoka said as she approached Rey. “You favor Jar’Kai but there are hints of Djem So in your movements.”

Rey bit her lip, brushing a sweaty strand of hair away from her eyes. “Is that bad?”

Ahsoka’s melodic laugh was like smooth water over rounded pebbles. “No, just…interesting.”

“How so?” Rey pressed, wishing the Force would reveal more secrets from the past in moments like these. It remained obstinately silent.

“Just that, amongst the senior Padawans, Ben is the only one who favors Djem So.” There was a teasing glint her eye.

“Right,” she mumbled, hoping the flush on her cheeks would be construed as exertion from the spar.

“Did you pick that up from Ben in the future? Was he your teacher?”

Rey sighed. She sank down until she fell on her backside in a slump lacking any semblance of grace.

Ahsoka strode forward before sitting beside her. “Ezra and I had a lengthy discussion, but it still didn’t answer all the questions we have about you.”

“How was your trip to Lothal?” Rey said instead. “I assumed you’d get your answers there.”

The Togruta sighed, tipping her head back to observe the fluffy clouds as they drifted slowly across the azure sky. “I thought so, but the Force was not as forthcoming as I’d hoped.” She chuckled and shook her head. “Master Yoda would swipe at me with his gimer stick if he heard me say such things: ‘Not a toy, the Force is,’” she affected a voice Rey had only heard in the echoes from the Force. “‘Revealed in time, answers will be.’”

For a moment, Rey could see through Ahsoka’s fond smile, feeling the pain of her loss as clearly as she could feel the ground beneath her palms.

“I suppose I can’t strong-arm the Force into telling me what I want to know.”

“What is it you want to know?”

Ahsoka hesitated, and Rey thought back to her conversation with Ezra, about changing the past. Perhaps the Togruta desired to do the same. “Were you able to access that place, the starry gateways?”

“The World Between Worlds,” Ahsoka corrected. “Yes and no—I meditated for days at the temple on Lothal before the mural of the Father, the Son, and the Daughter and saw many visions—but none guided me towards the World Between Worlds, so I didn’t enter. All in all, a failed mission.” She smiled at the end of her statement, but there was no joy in the movement.

Failure is not the end. It is a necessary part of the path, a man’s voice intoned across the Force with practiced wisdom.

“You haven’t asked me any questions about…the future.” Despite its veracity, Rey felt ridiculous saying the words aloud.

“I have a feeling you’ll tell me when you’re ready. Ezra told me he Mind Walked with you. How was it?”

Rey wrapped her arms around her bent knees. “Confusing, scary. It left us with more questions than answers about what happens. I barely remember the…last moments of my life before I was sent here.”

“But you’ve made significant progress with your shielding,” Ahsoka praised with a kind smile. “When I arrived, I hadn’t sensed you. It was only after I spoke with Ezra that I realized you hadn’t gone off-planet. I’m proud of you, Rey.”

Rey felt her cheeks warm at the complement. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

“Shielding is quite difficult for untrained Force users, so for you to grasp it as quickly as you did is no small feat! I’m curious about the manifestation of your shields…” she trailed off, waiting for Rey’s permission to ask her question. When she nodded, Ahsoka continued, “The figure in black, it seems to have been a terrorizing presence in the early days of the Force awakening within you—can you tell me who it was?”

Rey was silent for a while before she found her voice. “I think you and the masters know who it was.”

“Yes, but the circ*mstances of his fall are still a mystery to us,” Ahsoka confirmed, her gaze on the horizon beyond the rowdy younglings and the treetops rippling in the breeze. “The outcome of which we’d like to change, if we can.”

“My being here has changed things and I won’t let those events that led to his turn come to pass.”

“Careful, Padawan,” Ahsoka’s voice had grown hard. “That sounds dangerously close to hubris.”

The legacy of the Jedi is failure. Hypocrisy, hubris… Luke’s grizzled voice intoned in her memory. No, she was certain she could prevent Ben’s fall—already he had made great strides to remain in the light, to rid himself of the choking presence of Snoke and his master from his mind. If that was hubris, then Rey welcomed it, but she said nothing to Ahsoka who was content to sit in silence.

“I don’t know what to say,” Rey spoke after a few minutes. “If I tell him the truth—would that lead him down the same path? Or would he avoid it?”

Ahsoka hummed as she thought on the dilemma. “You’re in a unique position, Rey. You know what’s coming and how to avoid it, but that gives you power over others since you’re in control of that knowledge.” She paused for a moment. “During the dark times, after the fall of the Republic, I became a broker of information—it’s important to know who to tell what and when. One misstep can spell disaster, so you must be careful.”

“Are you suggesting that I don’t tell Ben anything?” Rey felt a tight knot in her chest at the thought. Weren’t secrets partially responsible for his turn? That Luke and his parents hadn’t been truthful with him about his lineage?

Ahsoka shook her head. “No, I can’t tell you what you should or shouldn’t do—but the nature of your situation is unique. It’s difficult to lie to your Bondmate, even harder to keep secrets from the other half of a dyad, I imagine.”

The Togruta was frustratingly cryptic.

“Should I tell Ben I’m from the future?”

“I think that’s a part of you you’re allowed to keep for yourself, until you’re ready. I and the other masters unfairly took that choice away from you—Cal through reading your Force echo and Ezra’s and my unique experience in the World Between Worlds meant your presence was logical.”

Rey frowned at the missing names. “Do the other masters not know?”

“No, just me, Cal, Ezra—and Luke, of course.”

Of course. Rey tried not to grumble at the addition. “Don’t the others wonder where I came from? Can’t they sense my connection to Ben?”

Ahsoka stood and brushed the dirt off her backside and thighs. “They do,” she answered both questions. “But they also know that the Force is…strange and wonderful and something best not questioned too deeply.” She extended her hand to help Rey to her feet. She pulled her up in one strong, fluid motion. “Besides,” she grinned wickedly, “the betting pool hasn’t been this exciting in years.”

A flare had erupted over the center of the jungle, wide and bright enough to be visible to the students along all the edges. The younglings sprang forward in a burst of excited shrieks as they shoved rivals and pulled friends along into the jungle. Rey tracked Kira, stepping forward until Pela held her back. “Younglings first, then juniors, then us.” When she noticed what Rey had been looking at, her face softened. “She’ll be fine. The masters are stationed throughout the jungle and are keeping an eye out on all of them.”

Rey could sense the bright quasar that was Luke at the North end of the designated arena space—a large circle within a swath of jungle far from the safety and familiar terrain of the Praxeum. Ezra was stationed to the East, Cal to the South between Tisar and Mursea. Ahsoka stood to the West alongside Lorith, Hiveth, and Omaall. The center of the jungle was shrouded in murky shadows in the Force, but Rey could sense a daunting presence therein—Merrin and her magick. Cere and Greez stood by a tent the masters had erected to oversee any injured students. Inside the tent were medical supplies, food and rehydration packs, and thermal blankets. The Latero grinned as two of his elbows nudged Cere; whatever he was amused about, Cere was not as she rolled her eyes and shook her head. Idly, Rey wondered if they were part of the master’s betting pool.

Rey exhaled shakily. Kira would be fine.

Two hours after the first flare, a second was released and the junior Padawans sprang into action, eager to finally be on their way. There were only about thirty of them, with the younglings numbering around sixty; the smallest group being the senior Padawans at eight, including Rey. The juniors disappeared into the jungle, their whooping and hollering echoing between the trees and dense foliage.

The seniors did not have to wait long when their turn finally came half an hour after the juniors. Rey ran forward beside Pela and Lorna. The boys had circled around to enter the jungle from another point, though it did not matter, Lorna had explained. Their goal was the center of the constructed maze—to retrieve the remote droid with the ribbon and make it back out without being ambushed and avoiding Merrin’s traps.

The air inside the jungle was thick and her perception of the Force was muddled by the cloying Nightsister magick. She pushed past the signatures of dozens of students to find Kira, first, before locating Ben. Kira seemed fine, but it was difficult to tell, her signature still somewhat closed-off, despite her lessons. Rey wasn’t sure if she was awake and calm or knocked out but stable. Both scenarios were troubling in the context of the Gauntlet.

“Find him?” Pela interrupted her thoughts as they leaped over an obvious trap. Rey shook her head before turning her attention to her Bond. Ben hid himself well, but it was impossible to completely close himself off from their connection. Rey herself had been able to do it only once, after Crait, and it had been accidental and temporary.

Ben was somewhere near Master Omaall’s quadrant, laying low. She relayed the information to Pela and Lorna who nodded before the three of them took to the ancient trees, leaping between the wide, thick branches with the aid of the Force and bypassing many of the traps hidden between the thick detritus of the jungle floor. A few remote droids fired on them, their tiny beams easily deflected by the women. They were all painted brown or green to better camouflage them from the participants.

“First, step is to avoid any glory-seeking juniors and then neutralize Jacen and the others,” Pela had explained in the interim time between the flares. Cere had watched them, lips quirked into a half-smile as she leaned against a tree near the medical tent.

“Jacen took some materials out of the hangar yesterday,” Rey had provided, a strange feeling twisted her stomach, as though she were revealing intel on her friends to an enemy. That was ridiculous, she told herself. This was a game and they were all friends. This wasn’t war, no matter how bloodthirsty Lorna’s smile seemed to get with each passing minute.

“Probably building another trap,” Pela had concluded with a nod. “He rigged up something last year to drop us into a pit,” she had elaborated for Rey’s benefit.

“Wouldn’t you just jump out using the Force?”

“It was supposed to shut the top once we fell in but it malfunctioned,” Lorna had laughed breezily as she twirled her saber, limbering up for the fight ahead.

“All right, so how do we find Jacen before he and the others find us?” Rey had asked, drawing meaningless symbols in the dirt with a stick.

“That’s where Lorna comes in,” Pela had explained. “She’s going to find Lorrik using their Bond. Jacen won’t be far behind.”

“Just follow me and we’ll crush those losers in no time,” Lorna had said with a triumphant smile.

Lorna moved through the trees like she had been born among them, her steps sure and quick. Pela kept pace easily, but Rey sacrificed attention for speed. Tree rot had weakened the next branch Rey landed on and it snapped beneath her meagre weight. She easily caught herself on one of the lower branches, heart racing while the others hesitated on neighboring trees. Rey nodded that she was unharmed before hauling herself back up and leaping forward easily using the Force.

The trio passed over a group of junior Padawans, ignorant of their presence as they continued arguing.

“We just came from there, I’m telling you I’ve already seen that cave mouth three times!” a Nikto exclaimed, waving her arm in the general direction of her left.

Rey and the others passed by them as swiftly and silently as shadows across a still lake. When they were a reasonable distance away, Pela ordered a respite. “Be careful of mind tricks—Merrin’s magick isn’t like Jedi persuasion. She can make you see and hear things that feel real, so stay sharp.” Dappled sunlight highlighted Pela’s face as it shone through the canopy.

They continued their venture further into the jungle and what felt like hours passed as Lorna tracked her brother’s signature, somewhat erratically as they zigzagged in different directions. Rey was relieved when they paused for another moment of rest, throwing back their canteens of water.

She swatted at an insistent insect buzzing around her sweaty face. The jungle was awash with life, the sounds of hidden fauna around them gave her pause as she wondered what kinds of creatures lurked in the jungle and if any were dangerous to Kira. She tried not to think about a rampaging beast chasing her younger self, Kira’s terrified screams echoing through the jungle as she was gorged on sharp claws and fangs—Rey shook her head to dispel the disturbing images. Where had they come from? She was certainly confident in Kira’s ability to survive, she had already done so on Jakku for years before Rey came along.

“Leave now, little Jedi,” a hundred hushed voices seemed to fill the air, startling Rey. “Leave…before you get hurt…”

She whirled around on the branch to locate the source of the magick but could only see a sickly green mist clouding the jungle floor like a thick soup. A remote droid appeared out of thin air—cloaked in magick—and managed to sting Rey’s exposed arm before it darted away. She hissed as she examined the blast wound, minor but still painful. When she glanced up, Lorna and Pela had disappeared. Her heart thumped uncomfortably against her ribcage as she pushed her senses outward in an attempt to locate them. In the vast area of the arena all she could feel was Ben’s distant, comfortingly familiar signature.

Logically, Rey knew it wasn’t possible that she and Ben were the only two opponents left in the jungle, meaning that Merrin’s magick had already worked its way into her system.

“Leave,” the voices hissed again. The jungle was suddenly shrouded in darkness as though the sun had been consumed by a massive black hole…Rey struggled to control her breathing, fumbling for her saber which was suddenly missing from her hip. A creature in the underbrush howled, signaling others in its pack that here awaited an easy meal.

Between panicked breaths, the sounds of the jungle disappeared, as though she had stepped out into the vacuum of space. The branch shuddered beneath her trembling feet like the ship breaking apart—

“Rey.”

She glanced up, her vision blurred with unshed tears. Ben crouched on the branch before her. Rey clenched her fist to keep from reaching out to grab his arm. He wasn’t really in front of her, but he had reached out when he sensed her distress.

“It’s just Merrin messing with your head. There’s nothing here that can hurt you,” his voice was soft and reassuring. “Just breathe.”

She inhaled shakily, a small smile on her lips. “If this is you tricking me into meditating—”

He laughed at that, crooked smile lighting up his face. “I’ll be waiting for you at the center of this.”

Her eyes swept over his features, the nondescript browns and beiges that all the younglings and Padawans wore that helped them blend in with the jungle; the dappled sunlight that turned his dark hair golden brown—sunlight that streamed through the canopy of trees since it was still daytime on the planet, this darkness artificial and summoned by magick. When her gaze met his, he grinned at the determination that had settled in her eyes.

“Come find me—if you can…”

In a blink, he was gone. The spell was broken as the sounds of the jungle filtered back through her senses, along with the worried grip Pela had on her arms.

“Just slap her, it worked for me last time,” Lorna advised unhelpfully from somewhere behind the pair.

“I’m…I’m fine,” Rey whispered, running a hand over her face. “How long was I out?”

Pela helped her sit up. “A few minutes—”

“Half an hour,” Lorna interrupted, clearly peeved at the lost time. “Those idiots will have set up a trap by now, so we need to not only find them but avoid springing it.”

“Sorry,” Rey mumbled, her cheeks hot, even as Pela waved Lorna off.

“Come on, she’s got a lock on her brother. If we stick to the trees we can outrun the last of the juniors.”

“What happened?” Rey rubbed at the imprint of the tree bark against her exposed skin. The remote droid wound was still present, that had at least been real.

Pela smirked. “A little overconfident quartet challenged us and now they’re in the med tent with Cere.”

An avian animal trilled loudly from its hiding spot in the canopy, distracting Rey for a moment. “Any sign of younglings?”

Lorna snorted. “They’ll have barely made it past the first obstacles.”

“Don’t underestimate them,” Pela chastised. “We were younglings once.”

The Mirialan sniffed but did not dispute the fact with the weapons master. She glanced at Rey. “Are you good to move?”

Rey might have been imagining the concern in her tone and only nodded before the three of them were off once again.

Soon after, they had been forced to give up the high ground when the trees began to thin, the distance between them too far even with the Force. Rey landed with care, using the Force to feel for traps hidden in the brush. There was one mere inches by Pela's foot, but the weapons master had seemed to sense it and avoided it deftly.

“This way,” Lorna spoke quietly, her hand drifting to her saber.

Rey found herself doing the same, a sense of unease filling her stomach as they advanced, alert for any noise beyond the fauna milling around them. A rustle in the bushes to their left gave them pause before they dismissed it, the leaves shuddering from the wind. Lorna ran ahead, weaving between traps and redirecting remote droid fire, ducking deftly beneath a swinging spike trap.

“Little Jedi…out of time…” the voices again. Rey grit her teeth hard enough that her jaw ached as she willed herself not to fall sway to the magick again. She thought of her black knight and brought up her shields, just in case.

“Look out!” Pela grabbed Rey’s arm as she stumbled on the edge of a cliff. The older woman hauled her backwards with enough force that they stumbled and landed on their backs. They caught their breath in the silence of the jungle.

“How did you know that was there—or, wasn’t there?” A moment ago, the cliff had appeared to be a normal stretch of ground in the jungle.

“The edges shimmered,” Pela explained, waving her hand. “Next time, look before you end up missing a leap,” she chastised in her best imitation of a master. Her eyes swept over the length of the canyon. “We need to circle back and find another way across.”

“What about Lorna?” The Mirialan was nowhere in sight as Rey scanned the tree line beyond the cliff.

“She’ll be fine, we’ll catch up with her once we cross this.”

“How did she make it across?”

“Merrin must have allowed it so that she could cut us off. No doubt she’s done the same to other groups—testing our ability to work cooperatively and independently.”

Rey peered over the edge and felt her stomach drop as the canyon seemed to lead straight to the core of the planet. She had scaled the gutted corpses of Star Destroyers and climbed to far higher heights, but she could not fathom how such a deathtrap was allowed to be part of this exercise that included younglings—she had to assume that the more dangerous aspects of the Gauntlet were reserved for the senior Padawans. Rey could only hope the worst thing Kira and the other younglings faced were annoyingly persistent remote droids with low blast settings.

“Come on,” Pela insisted, tugging Rey’s sweaty tunic to drag her forward. “We’ll meet Lorna across and then take down the boys.”

The Force delighted in proving them wrong.

It was nearly an hour before they managed to find a rope bridge across the chasm—a rickety construction missing a few wooden boards with the rope fraying in some areas. Rey crossed with a white-knuckled grip and careful steps. Pela moved with a quick grace that reminded Rey of Ahsoka, leaping from unsteady wooden plank to plank with sure footing.

It was only after they crossed that Rey realized she had held her breath and every muscle in her body had been tensed with the dreadful anticipation of a sudden drop. With Rey’s focus on the bridge, she didn’t sense Quis until he landed a powerful kick to her hip, knocking her to the ground.

She spat out a mouthful of dead leaves and dirt, gritting her teeth as she got back on her feet while Pela took on Quis and Tak by herself, easily keeping them at bay while Rey regained her equilibrium. She growled as she surged forward to bodily tackle Quis, ignoring the searing heat of his saber swiping close to her face.

“Took you long enough!” Lorna’s voice called out, emerging from the tree line as she parried her brother’s blows, their movements a mirror. Rey momentarily thought that any fight between the twins would result in a stalemate as they knew each other well enough to anticipate moves and ignore feints.

Rey ignited her saberstaff, the purple plasma bright against the waning sunlight, and joined the fray, deflecting Tak’s low swipe at her feet. Pela swapped with Lorna, forcing Lorrik on the defensive with her aggressive movements. In her periphery, Rey spotted a few junior Padawans observing the fight—no doubt waiting to pick off the victors. She could not focus on the younger students when Tak’s quick movements demanded her full attention.

In between heartbeats, Rey frantically searched for Jacen before realizing too late that the boys had already sprung their trap. Tak leaped backward just as Rey whirled around to warn Pela and Lorna. The device went off in a contained bubble around the women, a sonic emitter that had them crumpling to their knees, hands over their ears. The high frequency was enough to roil her stomach which threatened to empty the contents of her breakfast on the jungle floor as the world around her seemed to pitch sideways.

From her blurred vision, she saw that Pela and Lorna were not fairing much better as they crawled, attempting to escape the range of the device. She spotted Jacen emerge from the tree line, the others thumping him on the back in congratulations. Rey could only sense smug satisfaction rolling off of Jacen, the rest of her awareness narrowed to a single focal point of pain radiating throughout her body.

“Find…the…device!” Lorna ground out.

Rey reached out with the Force, trying to locate the beacon through her pain. The Force seemed to nudge her attention towards the edge of the tree line. She could hardly focus, but the pain had awakened her anger and frustration and she lashed out before she could control it—a growl ripped from her throat and a streak of lightning illuminated the clearing before it made contact with the device, exploding in a hail of shrapnel and fire.

Silence fell over the group as Rey struggled to catch her breath. The smell of burning dry bush hung heavy in the air. She vaguely registered that the junior Padawans had scattered into the jungle—though she was unsure if it was because the seniors had chased them off or if the display Rey had just performed had frightened them.

“Uh…” Jacen spoke, finally ceasing his gaping. “Foul?”

“What the kark was that?” Lorrik yelled as he advanced on the women. His lightsaber was drawn and ignited.

Rey scrambled quickly to her feet, wobbling slightly on unsteady legs, heart racing as she fumbled for her own saber—the look on the Mirialan’s face was enough to spark fear within her, the dark face tattoos pinching along his nose. Before he could attack, Pela stepped between them, intercepting his wrist and twisting it so that the saber was no longer angled to attack.

“Calm down, let’s all just take a breath,” she counseled in a steady voice, despite her chest rising and falling.

“She just shot lightning—”

“—really a Sith?”

“—how can we expect to trust—”

The boys began protesting, voices overlapping as they crowded around Pela and Rey. The weapons master seemed to have created a Force shield around the pair, an imperceptible bubble that prevented the others from getting too close.

She could feel Ben pressing insistently against her mind, but Rey employed her shield—against all of them. Rey’s heart beat wildly against her chest, a creature struggling to break free and escape the situation.

These were not her friends, they weren’t Poe or Finn, Jannah or Rose or Kaydel—these were people she had never known in her previous life and had no reason to trust. She was a stranger here, adrift in the galaxy across time—they were right to also distrust her.

Rey could feel the distant brilliance of Luke’s signature approaching the area—kriff, just what she needed. She hoped Master Bridger or Ahsoka had accompanied him to talk him down out of banishing her (at best) or executing her (at worst).

“Listen,” Pela’s stern voice, laced with Force persuasion, silenced the protests. “It has been known to happen that, when under duress or extraordinary situations, Force users are able to channel lightning.”

“It’s a dark side power, Pela,” Tak interjected, frowning over Pela’s shoulder, as though Rey were something unpleasant sticking to the heel of his boot.

“It’s part of the Force,” Pela explained calmly. “And we are conduits of the Force, in all its forms.” Rey noted that her hand was on her saber at her hip but she made no move to draw against her fellow Padawans.

She felt Ben push back against her guardian, his worry clear across their Bond, but still Rey kept him out of her head. She couldn’t risk him seeing her demonstrate Sith abilities when she’d been so adamant before that she was not a karking Sith.

Quis made an unconvinced noise but kept his distance, as though Rey were something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of his boot. “Purple doesn’t lie, Pela.”

She glared, wanting to scoff at his hypocrisy—wasn’t an orange plasma the result of yellow and red in balance?

“That doesn’t mean she’s a Sith,” Lorna finally spoke up, siding with Pela and Rey against the boys. Though her arms were crossed across her chest in casual nonchalance, there was an undercurrent of restlessness in her signature.

“Kriffing. Lightning.” Tak spat out, gesturing wildly at Rey.

Jacen stepped forward. “I dunno, it’s not like she hit us with the lightning.” He flashed a small smile in her direction. “I feel like I’d take that a little personally.”

“You can’t be serious, Syndulla,” Quis retorted, the full force of his frustration now aimed at Jacen.

He raised his hands in defeat. “Like Pel said, extreme situations—I will admit I didn’t have time to test the sonic device—it might’ve been too intense and triggered a knee-jerk response from Rey.”

“That doesn’t matter, the dark side is a slippery slope and with that stunt she’s one step away from the Tovrian Cliffs back there!” Tak protested, raising his saber in Rey’s direction.

Before anyone could attack, vines shot out from the trees and the jungle floor, looping around hands and legs as green magick emanated from the living plants. The senior Padawans were suddenly jerked away from one another and dragged into the jungle.

Rey avoided two vines that slithered in her direction, leaping backward and up into the trees. When she twisted on the branch, she saw that Pela had been captured by Merrin’s vines. The weapons master waved her away. “Keep going, find the droid at the center!”

“And kick Solo’s—” a vine wrapped around Lorna’s mouth as the Mirialan managed to slice through the vines curling around her legs with her saber.

More vines shot out toward Rey but she quickly concentrated on the task at hand: escaping the clearing.

Rey…

She nearly fell out of the tree when she heard Ben’s deep voice in her mind as clearly as if he was beside her. She tried to calm her nerves and racing heart as she sent soothing feelings over the Bond, mostly to keep him from snooping and so that she could center herself again. Rey hoped that substituting actual meditation with even breathing and a calm mind would lend the same result of balance.

When she was far enough away from the other senior Padawans, she spared a glance over her shoulder. When she did not notice any vines manipulated by invisible hands, she paused to rest and finally catch her breath. Rey leaned against the slimy tree trunk as she spread her hands out in her lap, staring at her fingers as though willing them to speak the secrets of Force lightning to her.

If you continue to fight, what will you become? a weathered voice spoke out across the Force and Rey shuddered at the feeling. Was it the will of the Force that she had been reborn in this time—in this other universe—only to become a Sith? What else could explain her proficiency in a dark side ability and the ambiguity of her saber? Was it her destiny to become a Sith while Ben flourished as a Jedi?

Balance, her own voice whispered across the universe.

“Rey.” Ben was crouched on the branch beside her, his hand hovering in the space between them, as though he longed to touch her reassuringly.

“Not now,” she brushed aside stray hairs from cheeks damp with sweat (not tears) and jumped down from the tree, using the Force to cushion her fall. She had to find the remote droid and end this silly game. There were more important things to worry about in the galaxy, starting with Snoke and the First Order. She turned her head east, seeking out the other half of her soul and the prize waiting for her there.

“Ghosts? Really?” Ezra watched with slight concern as three junior Padawans fled through the jungle, screeching at the sight of wispy green phantoms floating towards them.

“I did not have any corpses at the ready,” Merrin replied matter-of-factly.

“Of course,” Ezra retorted, arms crossed.

“Perhaps animal corpses?” she mused, fingers on her chin as she surveyed the ground before her.

Ezra shot her a look she did not see. “Probably not the same effect.”

“You are right. I will—” She fell silent and faced east, her eyes glowing a ghostly green. “Someone is close.”

The pair were cloaked with magick and the Force, invisible to any who tread too closely to the center of the maze. The remote droids that hovered overhead twitched and spun in unpredictable movements. They would be difficult to evade and even harder to catch, Luke had made sure of it after last year’s Gauntlet, reprogramming them with a line of code inspired by Artoo. Ezra had voiced his concern at the time that perhaps that was not the best idea, but there had been a mischievous glint in Luke’s cerulean eyes that had made Ezra curious about the end results.

He turned his gaze south where he knew Rey was, the sudden explosion of her fear in the Force had been unique—as was the surge of lightning that had darkened the sky for a nanosecond. Ezra had immediately abandoned his position in the Eastern quadrant, heading towards the time traveller, before Luke had sensed his intent across their Bond.

“I’ll go,” Luke had informed him when they met halfway. “Stay close to the center with Merrin, I suspect a winner will soon be named.”

Ahsoka had appeared a moment later, crouched in the trees.

“Are you sure? I can—”

“I’ve got this,” Luke had reassured with a smile and a soft touch. He had nodded at Ahsoka who returned to her post only after glancing at Ezra, her face a mirror of his own concern.

Merrin drew his attention back to the present when the apparent victor had wandered into view between the trees with careful steps, his saber drawn and ignited. Ben, of course. Ezra was almost hoping that the rogue Artoo code injected in the remote droids meant that this time would finally be the year where Ben didn’t win the Gauntlet.

Luke’s nephew, while talented and strong in the Force, still lacked understanding of the fundamental aspects of this exercise. He always took on the Gauntlet alone and never seemed to find anything particularly challenging, no matter what Merrin threw at him.

The Nightsister smirked before raising a hand to summon her magick. The droids were camouflaged about a hundred feet above Ben’s unsuspecting head. Last year, the droids had been hidden beneath a small lake. No doubt Ben could sense he was close to his prize, but he could not see them—yet. For all his awkwardness, Ben was also most certainly his mother’s son, perceptive and shrewd where it mattered.

Merrin sent out a few magick ghosts to test the waters, distracting him from one side while she manipulated the earth around him—pillars of sharpened rock and earth jut out around him but he was quick to evade, leaping almost sideways to escape the spike trap. He pushed off a tree trunk, the Force nearly cracking the bark as he reached for the opposing tree’s branch, swiping his saber expertly at the vines that suddenly shot out to ensnare him.

Ezra watched with mild amusem*nt. He knew the boy’s abilities, but was curious to see what else Merrin could throw at him. Were they in a true fight, none of them would stand a chance against Nightsister magick, especially when Merrin was fighting to kill.

A few leaves fluttered to the ground in Ezra’s periphery. When he shifted for a better view, he was both shocked and not surprised to see Kira scaling a nearby tree. Her signature was still so muted that she had evaded both his and Merrin’s notice. With the Nightsister busy trying her best to take down Ben without killing him—or maiming him too much—the youngling had taken advantage of the distraction to retrieve the prized droid.

There was a grim determination on her sweaty dirt-streaked face, fingers red and raw as she climbed the tree without any equipment or even the aid of the Force, as far as Ezra could tell. The droids were still so high up and Ezra worried she wouldn’t be able to make it.

Ben’s blue saber hummed steadily as he cut through a horde of vines—and reanimated animal corpses, Ezra noted with dismay, thinking of E’ika. Merrin had even twisted the trees around Ben to bend and warp, trying to cage him in their wooden boughs.

The remote droids buzzed a proximity warning, their blue lights shifting to red when Kira was within range. The girl didn’t even think to draw her training saber as she continued to climb, utilizing all her limbs to scale the tree.

Ezra had to put a stop to this—no youngling had ever made it this close to the prize droid, and for good reason—the droids were equipped to stun not kill, but part of using them meant that the students were expected to use their sabers and connection to the Force to anticipate and deflect the blasts.

Smoke filled the area as Ben cut down the trees in his way with a snarl, the smell of burning wood strong in Ezra’s nostrils. Ben hesitated for only a heartbeat when the movements in the trees above his head caught his attention, finally noticing Kira and the droids. Merrin’s delight was almost palpable as she finally caught him in the snare of her vines in his moment of distraction.

Ben choked out a grunt when he was pulled off his feet, landing on the jungle ground with all the grace of a felled tree. Still, his gaze was on Kira as she ascended higher, even as he dropped his saber to pull at the vines around his neck.

Ezra moved too slowly when one of the droids aimed at Kira’s hand and she slipped—fleetingly, it seemed that her grip and conviction was strong—before a second droid shot at her other hand and she fell.

“Ki-ra,” Ben gasped between breaths, his hand outstretched towards the plummeting child.

Ezra threw his hand out and called on the Force just as Merrin summoned more vines to gather beneath Kira. But it was neither of them who steadied the girl. She descended slowly, like a feather floating on the breeze, until her feet touched the ground beside Ben, now free from Merrin’s vines. He released his hold on the Force, his hand dropping exhaustedly to his side. Kira threw her arms around his neck, yanking him down further, despite the fact that he was already on his knees.

“Thanks Ben,” she mumbled against his sweaty cheek.

Ezra thought Ben might have preferred Merrin’s vines to Kira’s grip with how red his face was. His own racing heart had calmed before he looked to Merrin, both of them still cloaked.

“I did not sense her,” Merrin intoned quietly as she frowned at her hands.

“Neither did I,” Ezra was quick to assuage her budding guilt. “Her connection with the Force hasn’t fully awakened.”

Ben stood, one hand gripping Kira’s as he observed the droids floating leisurely above their heads, their indicator lights back to blue. He looked back down at Kira and smiled reassuringly. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Ezra could not comprehend what he was witnessing—even Merrin’s surprise was palpable as she looked to him for an explanation.

“But the trophy droid is right there!” Kira protested, pointing at the droid adorned with a fluttering ribbon.

“Yeah but I can’t climb as well as you,” he justified, though Ezra knew Ben could simply draw the droid to him using the Force. “And I can’t defend you from their blasts if you climb up alone.”

Kira pouted as she kicked at the dirt idly. “None of my friends made it this far, they all gave up but I told them I’d win.”

Ben smiled. “You almost did, no youngling has ever made it this far. I’m sure there’ll be an entry about you in the archives after this. Kira the Bold.”

That seemed to please the girl though she fought to hide her smile.

Merrin hummed beside Ezra. “Nauseatingly fascinating. Skywalker will be sorry he missed this.”

Ezra chuckled in agreement as they watched the pair prepare to leave the center of the maze—until the familiar signature of Ezra’s favorite time traveller announced her presence. Strangely, he could not feel Luke nearby. Ezra had to wonder if he stayed behind at the site of the Sith lightning to investigate.

“Kira!” Rey’s eyebrows had shot up at the sight of the youngling before her gaze drifted up to meet Ben’s eyes. Kira was similarly stunned, but only for a moment before she tugged down on Ben’s hand and planted her feet on the ground for leverage. His shoulder dipped only slightly.

“The droid is up there,” she pointed with her free hand. “Go get it! I’ll hold him back!”

Ben lifted Kira up off the ground with one hand, his lip twitching in suppressed amusem*nt.

Rey shot forward, confident now that she was sure her sister was out of harm’s way. She pushed off one tree then another until she grasped a high branch, launching herself upward towards the prize. Ben was hot on her heels, a moth chasing a flame.

Ezra watched with rapt fascination at the pair as they seemed to dance around each other in the trees, higher and higher. Merrin seemed to remember herself as she sent out her magick to subdue them both—she was nothing if not a fair proctor.

A vine snagged Rey’s ankle and she slipped, her face slamming against the branch. Ezra winced when he caught sight of the blood streaming down her nose. She growled as she severed the offending vine with her saber before hauling herself up onto the branch.

Ben was only two feet above her, but he apparently decided the game was over when he reached out with the Force to yank the ribboned droid to him. He dodged a magicked branch sharpened into a spear, leaping down twenty feet to another branch. Rey pursued, the flames of her desire to win fanned by her frustration.

Ezra descended after them, still cloaked, to oversee their performance and step in if there was any foul play.

Ben sprinted past Kira, his long legs carrying him far before Rey had finally reached the ground. She grabbed Kira’s hand as her sister ran alongside her.

Boulders sprung up from the ground in a cloud of green mist, launching themselves at Ben as he struggled to bodily dodge the sudden obstacles. The stones were larger than him, so his only options were to dance from side to side or be flattened.

The trio headed towards the Tovrian Cliffs with alarming speed, the natural boundary that marked the end of the Gauntlet if whoever had the droid was able to cross it. Rey and Kira had only to contend with Merrin’s vines and sudden soft sandy soil that sucked at their feet, slowing their attempts to catch up with Ben who was not fairing much better.

The entourage of droids that had been programmed to protect the ribboned droid had pursued their stolen comrade, shooting unrelenting blasts at Ben’s back. He dodged Merrin’s traps while deflecting the blows with his saber. A few had found their mark, leaving burns in his beige tunic. One of the droids successfully landed a blow on Ben’s brow, distracting him enough that he missed another trap, his right foot sinking up to his knee in Merrin’s soft soil.

Rey and Kira, busy evading the vines and animal corpses hounding their feet, passed Ben, crossing the Tovrian Cliffs with Merrin’s aid before she dropped the illusion and her assault. It was then that the girls paused to catch their breath. Ezra watched as the realization dawned on them that they had overtaken Ben, but that he still possessed the prize. He saw Rey’s eyes scan the Cliffs, trying to find another way across before she met Ben’s gaze.

Suddenly, something curious happened. Ezra would not be able to explain it, even after relaying the story to Luke later.

Despite the yawning chasm separating them from one another, the droid was suddenly in Rey’s possession—Ezra hadn’t even felt a ripple in the Force at the transfer. One moment, Ben had clutched the spherical struggling droid in his unrelenting grip, and the next it was cradled tightly in Rey’s hand.

“Go,” Ben called out across the chasm, a weary smile on his face. “I’ll get it next time.”

With her other hand occupied holding onto to Kira’s, Rey could only nod grimly before she sprinted deeper into the jungle, back out to the edges where they had entered.

“Wow.” It was the only thing Ezra could say as Merrin joined him. Her magick released Ben who slumped back against the jungle floor in exhaustion, burned torso rising and falling.

“Finally,” she said, the bracelets around her wrists tinkling as she crossed her arms. “I thought he’d never lose. Who knew all it took was love?”

Ezra snorted as he sent up a flare signaling the end of the Gauntlet. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

Chapter 13: The General

Chapter Text

Finn awoke to chaos. The muddled screams of the injured overlapped with the lamenting cries of those mourning the dead. The sounds grew sharper as he slowly came to. Someone was tugging his arm painfully and Finn realized he was being dragged across the ground, through debris and…unmoving bodies.

“Come on buddy stay with me.”

Poe, he tried to say but his mouth felt slack and his brain could not send the necessary signal to unlatch his jaw and work his vocal cords. His eyes at least responded to his desire to gaze upon the pilot. Poe’s hair was damp with sweat and the curls stuck on his forehead, despite the chill. His eyes were wild as he glanced beyond Finn’s prone body to the carnage around them. Smoke clouded the sky and choked the periphery of Finn’s vision. Beyond the sounds, he could only imagine what the marketplace now looked like.

A cough wracked through him, his body shuddering violently before Poe ceased his movements. “Buddy? Finn?”

Bile rose up in his spasming throat. His eyes watered as he squeezed them shut.

“Get him on his side,” a woman’s throaty voice instructed—Zorii, he remembered. “Stay here, don’t move!” Her voice grew fainter as she moved away from the pair.

“You’re all right, it’s gonna be fine,” Poe mumbled, his strong arms around Finn who realized, with some embarrassment, that the pilot was cradling him with a gentleness that he had never experienced before. “It’s all right, we’re okay,” Poe repeated, almost as if to reassure himself.

There were distant sirens and alarms relaying too late that the marketplace storefronts and surrounding area had faced devastating damage and casualties. Finn opened his eyes again, no longer blurred from the smoke, he was able to spot the plumes of black clouds rising from the remains of the marketplace. The ash had mixed with the falling snow and the flakes that now fell were grey. From his low vantage point, he couldn’t see much more beyond the entryway—Poe had dragged him back to the landing pad at the port.

“W-what happened?” he managed to croak, startling the pilot.

“Stars, Finn, it’s good to hear your voice,” Poe laughed as he squeezed him tighter.

Finn hoped the heat from his cheeks was from the earlier flames burning so near his face.

“Were we attacked?”

Poe nodded. “Looks like it. We need to get back to HQ as soon as we can clear you—medically.”

Finn groaned as he moved to sit up, a sharp pain lancing up the back of his thigh and right hip. “I think I’m all right…I’ve taken worse hits in training.”

Poe chuckled nervously. “No offense but I’m gonna wait for a doctor or med droid to look you over.” He shifted so that he sat beside Finn, still within arm’s reach to steady the former trooper in case he couldn’t hold himself up. “Besides, I’ve already sent a preliminary comm report to General—Senator Organa, so they’re not totally in the dark on what’s happened here. New Republic Forces are on their way to help and assess the damage.”

Finn tried to swallow the knot of trepidation that had crept into his throat. “H-how many people…”

Poe shook his head, curls falling into his eyes. There was soot smeared across his face. “No telling at this point in the chaos. Zorii’s gonna do her best to set up some kind of triage but it’s still a lot for just her and her crew, you know?”

Finn nodded numbly. His people did this—the First Order. He recognized the ship. But the question of why remained a mystery. Why would they choose to randomly bomb such an inconsequential target? Was it next on their list of planets to destabilize and quietly take over in their expansion? Another foothold to box in the New Republic before they seized control of the galaxy? His head began to pound painfully, but he was relieved it was a regular headache and not one of his migraines that accompanied the strange ‘feelings’. Nothing good ever came of them.

“How can we help?” He tried to stand before Poe tightened his grip on his arm.

“Woah woah, you’re in no condition to go back into that mess—let’s wait for Zorii’s med droid.” He flashed him a smile but it was strained at the corners. “Come on.”

Finn acquiesced, even if it meant feeling useless as he heard the sounds of pained sentients from beyond the port entryway. The sirens had gotten louder as emergency speeders arrived, offloading first responders and droids who rushed into the ruined marketplace.

“I feel like…this is my fault,” Finn said after a lengthy silence. He kept his gaze resolutely on the horizon, even as he felt Poe’s eyes on him. Somehow, he could feel the pilot’s shock—though Finn was frightened that he even could. Sometimes he’d get the general sense of how annoyed or angry someone was with him, but it was never this overt. Maybe it was a Jedi thing—even if he was just a baby Jedi like Poe said.

“Buddy, you don’t believe that, it was a random attack—”

“M-maybe the First Order is tracking me?” Finn offered, trying to remember a time when they would have injected a tracker into his system, though he must have been a child and the tracker implanted after he’d been stolen from his original family.

Poe hesitated at that, only for a moment, but it was long enough for Finn’s fears to be realized. “We’ll do a thorough scan for any tracking devices before we head to HQ.” He tried to adopt a reassuring tone, but from the way his voice wavered in the middle, it was a failed attempt.

There were no tracking devices, they discovered after a med droid had gone through a comprehensive scan. The only thing wrong with Finn was that he’d bruised a few bones on his right side and lower spine and suffered superficial scrapes and minor burns that were easily healed with bacta patches. Despite the news that he was truly free from the First Order, Finn still felt a heavy weight gnawing at him, even as Poe smiled triumphantly.

It was hours before they saw Zorii again. She had twisted her hair into an elaborate, gravity-defying updo to keep the mass of curls out of her soot-stained face. She had lost her coat at some point, or perhaps had given it to one of the bomb victims to ward off the encroaching chill. She looked as though she had walked through fire. Twice. Finn and Poe had helped with rescue efforts after that, allowing Zorii a reprieve as she coordinated with New Republic Forces who had arrived on rusty X-wings that looked older than Poe.

Finn was no stranger to death and dead bodies. He had never taken a life, though he had witnessed other troopers—friends and rivals—fall to blaster fire or explosions, seeing dead civilians and non-combatants up close was a vastly different experience. He felt the void in the world left behind where every corpse lay or was dragged from the rubble—it made his stomach roil with how wrong it all felt. They were supposed to be alive. But in a moment their lives were taken. It wasn’t fair. Why was Finn allowed a new life away from the First Order when these sentients were only granted death? Kriff, some of them had been children.

It was then that Finn had discretely found a side alley to vomit.

The New Republic Forces were organized and sympathetic to the survivors and injured, taking statements and coordinating rescue efforts for those still trapped beneath rubble. One of the taller buildings off the side of the marketplace had collapsed in the bombing, trapping dozens inside. Finn had no idea how long they had scoured the marketplace, only that the sun had set and that Kijimi had no moon. The entire city was swallowed by inky darkness before the New Republic had set up floodlights to illuminate the area.

Poe found him easily, despite the crowds of rescuers—he wondered if he had stuck close by so as not to lose him. The pilot looked worse than how Finn felt—which was really bad—but he managed a small smile before putting an arm around his shoulders to guide him out of the ruined marketplace.

“You ready to go?” He had spoken to Zorii at length before she assured them they were not obliged to stay. Poe had reiterated his goal to send more New Republic aid as soon as they arrived at HQ.

Finn bit his lip. “I feel like we can do a lot more here…”

Poe chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a vicious cycle—wanting to help people—but you can’t help everybody and you can’t do it by yourself. Trust me, kid.”

He thought of General Syndulla’s stern voice. He couldn’t help everybody, but he could go where he was needed. Something had taken root in his chest, warmth blooming around his heart. He nodded at Poe and the pilot smiled, this one genuine.

“Then let’s go home.”

Finn had never seen anything like Chandrila before. He’d never stepped foot on a Core World, let alone glimpsed it with his own eyes. The buildings were sleek and tall, stretching like fingers reaching out to pierce the bright blue sky. Speeders sped to and fro with an air of orderly chaos, lines like insects marching across the skyline, crisscrossing at certain intervals. Even if Finn knew how to pilot a ship, he would never dare try to weave in and out of that kind of air traffic.

As Poe expertly navigated them between the ivory towers, the windows tinted and reflective for privacy, Finn wondered what kinds of lives the people of the New Republic enjoyed. Far away from the bleak, snow-covered death of Kijimi certainly, he thought darkly.

“This is Dameron of the Starlight, requesting immediate docking clearance at the GS,” Poe spoke through his headset, startling Finn out of his reverie. There was a moment while he listened to whoever was on the other end of the comm at flight control. He shook his head as though they could see him. “Nah, it’s gotta be the GS docks, I need to see the General—Senator—right away. She’s expecting me.” There was another moment before he nodded, steering the ship towards a domed building larger than any Finn had ever seen. It was massive, eclipsing entire city blocks below. As soon as they were close enough to enter its shadow, Finn felt a trickle of anticipation at the back of his neck. He brought his hand up to rub the ‘feeling’ away.

“Welcome to the New Republic Galactic Senate,” Poe introduced as he eased the Starlight into the docking bay alcove set into the side of the domed building where Finn had spotted numerous transports and speeders taking off and landing at dizzying intervals.

With his post-landing checks complete, Poe sprang out of his seat, eager for their meeting, even as Finn’s feet felt like duracreet.

When he noticed the former trooper was not glued to his side, Poe jogged back to the ship ramp where Finn had hesitated. “Hey, don’t worry, this is just a formality, not open to the public, just a couple of people—no need to freak out.”

Finn’s cheeks felt hot. “I’m not freaking out.”

“It’s natural to be awestruck by the Generals but you haven’t even met them yet!” Poe teased with a wink, gently pulling him towards the automated doors that led to the lifts, ignoring the strange looks people threw their way.

They managed to catch an empty lift, for which Finn was grateful, especially after his palms started to sweat the longer it took to reach their destination. His ears popped from how quickly they ascended to what seemed like the top of the domed Senate building.

When they finally arrived at the desired floor, Poe’s stride seemed to hesitate for only a moment before he muttered something to himself. The hallway was long and if Finn paid attention to the architecture he would have noticed the gentle, subtle sloping as it followed the building’s exterior curvature.

“Who’s the one freaking out now?” Finn found himself mumbling, loud enough for Poe to catch.

The pilot laughed at that, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You’re right, but I haven’t had to charm all of them at the same time in a long while.”

Before Finn could ask who ‘all’ entailed, they stopped before a set of grand automated doors. It was sparsely decorated and there was no plaque anywhere to indicate what the room was, though Finn felt the room beyond was somehow important. They both squared their shoulders—Finn mimicking Poe—before the doors slid open to admit them.

There were more than ‘just a couple of people,’ as Poe had put it. At least thirty sentients dotted the room, aliens and humans alike, which startled him—the First Order did not allow aliens into their ranks. It seemed the New Republic was not as xenophobic.

His attention was seized by a small group at the center, framed by the light streaming through the window.

Four women stood assembled and they were a…strange quartet, in Finn’s humble opinion. Three were human, the fourth a green Twi’lek in pilot’s fatigues. Two of the human women were tall and willowy, though one possessed odd pink hair, a color he’d never seen on a human before.

The third human woman was shorter than even the Twi’lek. Her brown eyes swept over Finn and he resisted the urge to fidget under her gaze. Despite her stature, she seemed to tower over everyone in the room. General Leia Organa, he somehow knew.

“Explain,” she ordered, her voice curt, and all low chatter in the room ceased.

The others around Finn straightened to attention, like he’d often done in the past whenever a superior officer entered a room. All four women had been hardened by war, his strange ‘feeling’ seemed to whisper to him, though he found himself standing a little straighter at her words. He hid a wince, his bruised spine reminding him of its presence. Not even her intricately braided hair or elaborate cream senatorial robes distracted him from her commanding aura.

“General,” Poe spoke, “this is Finn.” He put his hand on Finn’s shoulder, announcing him with a gravitas that made him feel like he was the most important person in the room. He most definitely was not and he didn’t need one of his ‘feelings’ to tell him that. He was grateful when Poe gave him a reassuring squeeze, though it did not ease the embarrassed heat crawling up his neck. “Finn, this is Chancellor Mothma, G-Senator Organa, Vice Admiral Holdo, and General Syndulla,” Poe introduced the women.

The Twi’lek rolled her eyes. “Just Hera, kid.”

“Recruit?” General Organa took him in with a single look that sent a shiver down his spine—a familiar warm tingle that left him feeling hopeful rather than frightened. He had to remind himself that she was not a war criminal, as he’d been taught. “A recruit for Luke,” she amended knowingly.

Finn had no idea what she knew or how she knew it, but he believed her. He found himself nodding, his mouth as dry as a desert.

“We were refueling in Kijimi when it was attacked.”

“Imp Remnants,” Hera spat venomously.

“They’re not Remnants,” Finn provided in a low voice. “They’re an organization calling themselves the First Order.”

He tried not to shrink under the women’s gaze even as the room buzzed with a burst of conversation speculating about the group.

“What can you tell us about them?” Chancellor Mothma’s soft voice commanded silence as the other New Republic senators in the room quieted.

Finn tried not to fidget under the gaze of so many. He felt like he was about to be reprimanded in front of the other FNs for yet another disappointing performance or misdeed. “I’m…I was…a stormtrooper. I was taken from my family when I was really young—like all the other troopers—I don’t really know or remember them…” Finn was sweating again, why the kriff was he talking about a family he didn’t have? Why would these people care? He cleared his throat. “They forced us into training and indoctrinated us with some anti-Republic propaganda. Their main goal is to reestablish order under a new regime modeled on the old Empire.”

A silence fell over the room like a blanket that even the warm rays of sunlight could not dispel. Finn looked to Poe helplessly but the pilot nodded reassuringly.

“It makes sense,” Hera spoke, breaking the spell. “Their attacks seem less like the last, gasping breath of a dying regime and more like emboldened raids by fresh blood.”

“This is most disturbing,” the Chancellor said, grasping her chin between her forefinger and thumb. The necklace resting against her sternum glinted, catching the light when she shifted her stance.

“Kijimi needs all the help it can get right now, Chancellor,” Poe intoned humbly, his tone solemn.

She nodded. “We’ve already sent first aid and care packages for the displaced and we will be sending our finest contractors to rebuild the marketplace as soon as possible.”

“But why attack the Jedi transports?” Hera said in a voice too low for the other senators to hear, her gaze catching Organa’s.

Both women seemed worried about that fact, though Finn didn’t know of any attacks against Jedi. Until a few cycles ago, he’d thought they were a myth—scary stories and tall tales of the maniac war criminal Luke Skywalker whispered in the barracks after lights-out—a deterrent to keep misbehavior to a minimum: scrub the latrines within an inch of your life or the murderous Skywalker Jedi would cut your head off.

“What do you know of the First Order leadership?” The Vice Admiral spoke, hands clasped delicately before her. She seemed kind, though there was a sharpness, an edge beneath her words that made Finn careful in his response. Her blue eyes were almost too intense and he had to look away, hoping that it did not make him appear guilty or untrustworthy.

“I was just a stormtrooper, a foot soldier—I don’t really know who’s at the very top.” When Holdo’s mouth twitched into something resembling disappointment, he quickly amended, “I-I know the names of major officers. And some base locations.”

“I think you need some time before you debrief, to make sure you don’t miss any details,” General Organa said at last with a smirk. “You both look like you could use a warm meal. And at least an hour in the sonic.”

Finn was suddenly very aware of how underdressed and dirty he was in the midst of the pristine New Republic senators who seemed to shine with their wealth and privilege. Despite having scrubbed themselves down as best as they could without a reflective surface on the ship, Finn and Poe still displayed evidence of the attack. Dried blood behind their ears, soot along their hairline, dirt beneath their fingernails and smudged across their clothes and muddied boots.

Without another word, Organa seemed to dismiss everyone from the room and Finn confusedly followed as Poe tugged on his jacket sleeve to lead him elsewhere. The other senators gave them a wide berth, whispering about the latest developments and what Finn’s arrival and intel meant for the galactic political landscape.

“What just happened?” Finn whispered in the hall as Poe strode confidently towards the lifts. Finn stepped quickly, his legs not yet long enough to keep pace with the older pilot.

“She bought you some time to gather your thoughts and make sure your intel is solid. And the next time we convene it’ll be in private with just the core council.”

“‘Just a couple of people’,” Finn murmured and Poe nodded.

“Exactly! Just like a I said.”

Poe did not see the dirty look Finn shot him just as the lift descended at a mildly nauseating speed.

Thankfully, their designated apartment was only a few floors down. It apparently belonged to a Mon Calamari senator who was off-planet at the moment. Poe had to assure Finn it was fine that they were there. Repeatedly.

Finn was worried that, at any moment, a First Order officer would enter the senatorial quarters and dress him down for daring to even set one grimy foot in such a pristine palace so far above his station.

He sped through his sonic as quickly as he could before donning the clothes the New Republic had gifted him. The brown tunic and blue pants were softer than anything he’d ever worn as a stormtrooper and he’d stared at his blacks discarded on the ’fresher floor for what seemed like a long while. He ignored the blue outer jacket they had provided him with, choosing to don Poe’s familiar leather jacket instead.

A full meal was spread out on the table when he emerged. Poe had already started, using one hand to shovel food into his mouth while the other scrolled through information on a datapad. His leg bounced with a jittery speed that made Finn nervous.

“Dig in, man,” Poe gestured at the spread with his fork. “Best thing about a debrief is the rest and food, honestly.”

Finn brought a forkful of some kind of steaming noodle up to his nose for a quick sniff before hesitantly chewing the spicy food. After he’d cleared his third plate, his movements slowed, thoughts turning back to the General and his upcoming interrogation.

“What are they going to do to me if I can’t…if my information isn’t worth much?”

“‘Do to’ you? Finn—” Poe inhaled sharply as he cut himself off, gathering his thoughts. He set his fork and datapad down, turning his full attention on Finn. “That’s not how things work here. You’re safe now. You don’t have to worry about the First Order anymore. You’ve got the might of the entire New Republic at your back. You’re one of us now. We defend and protect our own.”

Finn was silent, even as he nodded at Poe’s reassurance. He didn’t know what it meant, to be defended and protected by the system he was a part of. The First Order certainly didn’t care what the troopers did to each other, let alone what clandestine horrors the officers often had planned for them.

He glanced out the window to watch the sun set as it cast the glittering skyline aflame in hues of oranges and reds. He thought if it was his last time seeing a sunset that he could do a lot worse than this.

A chime rang out through the senatorial apartments, startling Finn. Poe grabbed a small bread bun to stuff into his mouth as he hurried towards the main entrance. He returned with the Twi’lek pilot, Hera—and General Organa. A gold droid puttered in after them. Finn nearly knocked back his chair in his haste to stand and…he wasn’t sure if he needed to salute.

“At ease,” the General teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She had changed from her earlier flowing garb to a practical navy ensemble that was somehow a dress with trousers, paired with a white sleeveless overcoat. He’d never seen its like before. She had swapped her earlier gold jewelry and hair accessories for a silver set, her hair braided in a crown around her head.

He glanced at Poe worriedly, was this the official unofficial debrief? He hadn’t prepared his intel—should he start chronologically or alphabetically? By war crime or war criminal? Distractedly, he wondered how the New Republic classified war criminals—certainly with different standards than the First Order, he concluded as he watched the formerly-classified-war-criminal-Leia-Organa approach the table with an elegant ease that spoke to her royal upbringing.

While General Organa sat at the table, Hera paced the length of the room. She held a commlink in her hand, groaning in frustration when whoever she was attempting to reach didn’t pick up. “Hera, sit down. It’s after Family Week—they’re probably busy with the Gauntlet.”

“Why did Luke insist on setting up on a remote planet with no comms? What if something happens? How would we know or even get there in time? That boy is impossible.” Her lekku twitched even as she retried the comm. She at least listened to Organa and sat at the other end of the table, frowning at the comm as it chimed.

Finn thought it was rather odd for her to call the Luke Skywalker a boy when he had to be pushing four decades at this point.

“They’re fine. I’d know if something happened,” Organa assured, steadily piling a few finger foods onto a plate before passing it over to the Twi’lek.

Finn wondered how the General would know when their comms weren’t even working.

The gold droid gestured stiffly as it spoke. “General Syndulla, I am most capable of sending a transmission to my counterpart R2-D2 if it would please you—”

Hera snorted. “As if that droid would relay information when we need him to. Sometimes he’s worse than Chopper,” she mumbled.

Poe leaned over the back of his chair, taking in the scene with what appeared to be a mixture of amusem*nt at the interaction and awe of being in the women’s presence. “How can we help you, Generals? I gotta say, I’m enjoying the espionage life.”

“Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about your little insubordinate foray across the galaxy, Dameron,” Hera snapped, pointing a finger at him. Her comm chirped to indicate a failed connection. She entered the sequence of numbers again with dizzying speed, seemingly using muscle memory, waiting for the comm to connect her to whoever was at the other end.

“We need to know if there’s a Force user at the top of the First Order,” Organa intoned without preamble, leaning forward, her gaze on Finn who swallowed the thick knot in his throat.

“W-what are you thinking?” Poe straightened, any traces of mirth eradicated from his face. He paled suddenly. “That Palpatine’s somehow returned?”

The former Emperor was a Force user? Finn tried not to gape as he absorbed the information. Had he survived Skywalker’s assassination attempt all those years ago?

Organa shook her head. “He’s dead. But if he had another apprentice besides…Vader…then it could spell trouble for the galaxy.”

“Why else attack the Praxeum transports?” Hera provided. “Why would the First Order care about Force users if not to kill or subjugate them into the next generation of Inquisitors?”

Finn had no idea what Inquisitors were, but he didn’t like the sound of them. The others looked to Finn for answers. He thought of the names and faces of high command. “I don’t know,” he admitted after a lengthy silence. “I don’t think there’s a Force person in charge.” As the image of the high ranking officers flashed in his mind’s eye, he realized he didn’t even know what a Force person was supposed to look like. “But I was too low rank, so if there are, I’d probably never have seen them.”

Finn began to recite the names he knew, from Hux senior and junior to Pryde and Canady and everyone in between. He cursed whenever his voice would stutter at the mention of a particularly nasty officer who had enjoyed tormenting him and the other FNs. Captain Pring, especially, who had delighted in blasting near their feet to make them dance. Every now and then, a flicker of recognition would pass over the women’s faces at the mention of a name.

“Ambassador Kina?” the gold droid verbally exclaimed when Finn brought up the captain’s name. “Oh my, your Highness, this is most disturbing news—”

“Let him finish Threepio,” Organa interrupted softly, the slightest of furrows finding a home in her brow.

Finn downed a glass of water, his throat dry after going through his mental list. “I used to get them caf sometimes during their meetings, so I know some of their plans when it comes to destabilizing tactics, but I was never in the room if they planned anything major against the New Republic—or the Jedi…I’m sorry.”

Hera looked stricken, her grip on the commlink tightened and Finn worried she would break the delicate device. “I need to go to the Praxeum—”

“Hera, there’s no need to panic,” Organa reassured even as the Twi’lek leaped out of her chair, her plate of food untouched.

“We need to get Ja—all the children out. We should evacuate them to a safe place until we deal with this First Order.”

Organa shook her head sadly. “Luke won’t want to hide.”

“With all due respect, Leia, but this isn’t about what Luke wants—it’s about the safety of the children in his care. He has to understand that. And if he doesn’t, Ezra and Ahsoka will convince him.”

Finn felt dizzy with the sudden change in Hera’s energy and the unfamiliar names being thrown around. Perhaps he should have eaten more, he thought as he eyed the full banquet before him.

Organa’s shoulders seemed to slump ever so slightly. “There is…something gathering in the dark corners of the galaxy. It’s been growing for a while now. I’ve felt it—I’m sure Luke has too. He will have prepared contingencies.” She had a faraway look in her eye as she gazed sightlessly out the window as night finally covered the city. The lights in the high-rise buildings twinkled like stars. “It would be dangerous to move so many Force sensitives at once—that’s what made the transports easy to target.”

“So we move them in smaller batches. We’ll fly them out on different ships at different times,” Hera suggested, a determined gleam in her eyes.

“They’re safest with Luke at the Praxeum.”

“Leia, you just said their clustered Force signatures was what made them noticeable,” Hera protested, her free hand clenched into a fist by her side.

“The planet the Praxeum is on is uncharted, it would be impossible for anyone to find them without first knowing where in the galaxy they are like we do.”

The comm chirped—another failed connection. “I’m going,” Hera announced before glancing at Poe. “You coming, kid?”

He hesitated for only a second. “Uh, I thought I was grounded?”

“After this, yeah you will be.”

Finn’s eyes were wide as he watched the pilots ignore Organa’s appeal to exercise caution.

“You coming too?” Hera addressed Finn from the doors to the senatorial apartments.

He hesitated, glancing at Organa who merely watched him with a calm curiosity. He thought of his forgotten best friend, Rey. He couldn’t pretend to understand the danger Force users were in, but if it was enough for the Twi’lek to be so anxious that he could sense it thanks to his ‘feelings’, he’d made up his mind. “If I can, I want to help.” When Organa glanced down at her clasped hands he cleared his throat quietly. “If I’m allowed to leave, of course…”

“Finn—” Poe began with a frown, ready to remind him of his earlier words before the General held up a hand, her bracelets clinking gently with the movement.

“By all means,” she said gently. “You’re part of the New Republic now, my boy. I’ll file the official paperwork while you’re away.”

“What about the Senate?” Hera intoned, not quite able to keep the surprise out of her voice.

“I have enough information on the First Order that we can get started for now. I’ll deal with Mon and the others,” Organa dismissed. “And I’ll let Luke know you’re coming. May the Force be with you.”

Before Finn could ask how she could contact her brother when he apparently did not keep any comm devices on-planet, Poe whisked him away with a manic grin.

“Let’s go save some Jedi.”

“You’re really excited about this,” Finn noted with a raised eyebrow as they hurried down the hall. Poe’s smile did not lessen. He thought back on his own liberation—what other reason would Poe have had to get him out were it not for Rey and the fact that he was a baby Jedi? “Don’t you save a lot of Jedi?”

Hera snorted. “It’s usually the other way around.” They piled into the lift as soon as the doors opened.

“Can I fly the—”

“No.”

Chapter 14: The Calm

Chapter Text

“Explain yourselves,” Luke intoned peacefully, his signature as steady as the Praxeum lake, despite the frenetic energy around him.

“Odd weather we’re having lately—”

“Jacen,” he warned, a ripple in the waters. Luke eyed the senior Padawans who sat cross-legged before him in the clearing, gazes studiously avoiding his. He hadn’t had to line them up for a good scolding since they were younglings—and Ben was usually among them. “Why did Rey use Force lightning?”

Quis straightened suddenly. “You knew it was her? Master Skywalker, how can you accept a Sith just running around the Praxeum—”

“She’s not a Sith,” Luke responded with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms.

“Acolyte or apprentice, it doesn’t matter, she summoned lightning!”

It took all of Luke’s composure to keep his body still, masking the tremors the Emperor had gifted to him. “An ability any one of you can also display if desperate enough.”

Jacen smirked as he elbowed Tak roughly. “Told you,” he muttered.

“But it’s a dark side ability…” Lorrik mumbled, sounding unsure.

“Only Sith deal in binaries,” Pela justified, her tone calm and sure. She certainly did not share her peers’ sentiments about Rey, which made Luke proud.

Luke walked down the line of seated students. “You have no idea what that girl has been through—the trials and hardships she’s faced that would’ve made her a Knight seven times over. It’s a wonder she had enough composure not to fry your faces off.”

Of course, even Luke was not fully aware of the tribulations Rey had faced, gleaning only secondhand knowledge of the future from Cal’s disjointed visions and Ezra’s evasive insight after spending more time with her. Even Ben had been tight-lipped during their meditations and private lessons. A small part of Luke could not deny that the evidence against her was damning—from her mysterious arrival at the Praxeum with a bled crystal and now lightning? The other masters had voiced similar concerns as the senior Padawans, though Luke had dismissed them after long conversations with Cal and Ahsoka. Still, the Force hummed around her and Luke trusted in the Force more than what his eyes could see—as old Ben had taught him so many years ago when he was just a farm boy swinging around a laser sword.

The senior Padawans sat in silence as Luke let them stew in their own guilt. In that moment they looked very much like their youngling selves. He drummed his mechno-fingers on his bicep while he contemplated what to do with them. Something in the Force suddenly drew his attention. Then, a flare erupted from the center of the jungle and the senior Padawans groaned at their lost opportunity to win this year.

Luke half turned to face the center, sending out a questing probe into the Force. He could sense Ben’s steady light and the flaming sparks of Rey and Kira nearby coming ever closer. Ezra’s signature was buzzing with delight and Luke was surprised to learn that his nephew was not this year’s winner. Luke turned his attention back on the Padawans, ensuring that his smirk had transformed into a disappointed twist.

“All of you will report to the old temple tonight after dinner for some reflective meditation and exercise.”

They did a poor job of hiding their discontent even as they nodded. Pela appeared disgruntled at being lumped in with the rest of the delinquents but held her tongue. “Yes Master,” their subdued voices rang out in unison.

Luke was intrigued by the foreign feeling that had bloomed in the Force like a sudden solar flare. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. He wouldn’t be surprised if it had anything to do with the Praxeum newlyweds.

Rey returned triumphant to the cheers and clapping of the other Padawans. Her smile was so luminous that it eclipsed the streaks of dirt and dried sweat on her face. She didn’t seem to notice or care about the leaves in her hair and the scrapes on her legs. Luke watched, amused, as Pela and Lorna stood by Rey’s side, throwing smug looks in the boys’ direction. Jacen was quick to join the girls with a wink and a shrug at his fellows.

The younglings crowded around Kira and basked in her harrowing tale of reaching the center of the Gauntlet and nearly winning. A few of the older younglings lifted her onto their shoulders. Luke recognized Asha with her bright smile, Oshar, a Rodian, Moran, a Pau’an, the Wookiee Choyykhik towering over them, and Vari, a human missing too many baby teeth.

Kira’s face was flush with embarrassment and awe, still unused to so much attention after a solitary desert life. Luke could relate—after leaving Tatooine, he’d been overwhelmed by the sheer number of sentients that made up the Rebellion bases, often finding himself navigating the outskirts of crowds or less populated hallways until he grew more comfortable.

Spotting Merrin in conversation with Cal reminded Luke to speak with the Nightsister and Ezra later about better wards and obstacles next year to deter younglings from getting as close as Kira did.

Ben limped quietly around the rowdy group, favoring his right leg, as he headed towards the med tent. It was not difficult for Luke to track his nephew even among so many Force users, so similar was his signature to Leia’s. Luke contemplated whether to interrogate Ben or Rey first about the anomalous ripple in the Force. Ben would be moody, but he’d at least give him some sort of response. Rey would be evasive, or worse—conspire with Ezra to keep more of her secrets.

Luke sighed softly as he thought of the many conversations and lessons he had to impart in the next few days before he drew himself up to his full height—Leia would laugh at that—and sent out a small pulse in the Force.

The Padawans quieted as they felt only a sliver of his power—he was Master Skywalker in that moment. He waited a few heartbeats for the last of the younglings to settle down before he smiled warmly at the assembled students.

“Well done, all of you. No doubt you’ve got a thrilling tale or two to tell over dinner tonight.” He winked at a few of the younglings who giggled and elbowed Kira gently. She blushed under their gaze. “Once you’ve been cleared by the med droids you can head back to the Praxeum and clean yourselves up—” this he directed to a pair of younglings, one human and the other Nikto, Gobar and Skrai, who both groaned at that. “After that we’ll have a feast to close out the end of this year’s Gauntlet.”

The Padawans’ shining faces were a sea of smiles as they nodded, eager to get back and tuck into the food awaiting them. Luke nodded with a smile and they scattered towards the med tent, wrestling and racing to be the first in line. Kira shuffled over to Rey who put her hands on her shoulders, speaking to her sister in a low tone.

The similarities between them were undeniable, but only a fool would believe they were sisters—or maybe someone who didn’t believe in time travel. An image of Han’s heavy eye-roll sprang to the forefront of Luke’s mind, unbidden and he snorted softly. “‘Hoky religions and ancient weapons’,” he whispered to himself as he approached the girls.

Rey straightened, her expression subdued. “Master Skywalker.”

Ezra had informed him that this was, in fact, not a good sign from Rey. Even if he didn’t have the Force to feel it, he could see her stiffen as she mentally prepared herself for their conversation.

“Congratulations are in order,” Luke intoned, genuinely happy. “About time someone knocked Ben off that pedestal. You’ll have to tell us how you managed it.”

She seemed to be on the cusp of saying something before she nodded silently instead. Interesting, Luke would have to question Ezra and Merrin for details of her victory.

“There’ll be time for talk later, Master,” Jacen interrupted, pointed teeth bared in a wicked grin. “We can’t skimp out on tradition.” He moved to hoist Rey over his shoulder but she balked at his approach, her signature spiking with anxiety.

“W-what tradition?” Her eyes were wide as Pela and Lorna joined Jacen, each one seizing an arm.

The three of them were enough to wrestle her off her feet and Luke stepped back with a knowing smile. He patted Kira’s shoulder reassuringly when the youngling hesitantly moved towards them.

“It’s only right to treat the Gauntlet victor with the laurels they deserve,” Lorna explained without giving the game away. Quis, Tak, and Lorrik, while still on the outskirts, smirked as they watched, their body language tight as they restrained themselves from joining, still unsure of how to conduct themselves around Rey.

Rey twisted in their arms, her eyes on Kira and then Luke as they dragged her away. “Uh, Master Skywalker—” her voice was higher than he’d ever heard it and he couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at her imagined distress.

It was only a little dunk in the lake.

Luke wiggled his mechno-fingers, the gears whirring.

When Rey was finally out of sight, he knelt before Kira. “She’ll be fine. You should get to the med tent for a checkup, make sure everything’s all right,” he spoke gently, his eyes skimming over her for any surface injuries. They seemed like superficial scrapes and mostly dirt. Her tunic was ripped in a few places—the days after the Gauntlet were always the busiest for the protocol droids and those who knew how to sew or repair their own clothes. Luke doubted either girl knew how to sew, so he would make sure to send a droid to their rooms to leave them extra clothes while these were being mended.

“I almost won,” she grumbled, furrowing her brow in the exact same manner as her sister. They’d need to work on learning new habits and different tics to avoid drawing unnecessary attention—though, would it matter in ten years when Kira grew up to look exactly as Rey did now? A problem for his future self to deal with—Leia and Lando, were they present, would scowl at his poor prudence.

Luke gave her an amused look before jerking his head towards the med tent and the long line of Padawans and younglings cradling injured or bruised limbs. Kira trudged over with only minimal grumbling.

He spotted his nephew exiting the back end of the tent. Luke rose to his feet, his knees aching only marginally—a good day—before turning to the remaining senior Padawans. “Don’t forget to throw Ben in too.”

It would be a shame if his nephew missed out on tradition on a technicality.

Hera is on her way, Leia projected suddenly into his mind with all the finesse of Han chatting up a senator at a political gala. Luke winced at her blunt application of the Force and at her words. He had stopped suddenly outside the refectory, hand reaching up as if to stave off a headache. The sun had long since set, casting the hallways in flickering shadows.

He sent back a wordless response to his sister, his curiosity blooming at the forefront of his troubled mind.

Believes the kids are in danger—the darkness in the Force we’ve felt…Have R2 open his kriffing receiver to Threepio. Hate this.

Luke would head to the hangar later to ensure his droid reestablished comms with C-3PO as soon as possible—and to set up an alert in case any ship entered the system. Leia’s tone through their Bond seemed urgent, even if she did not yet know how to project specific emotions or hold back from sending too much all at once. Not for the first time, he lamented her decision to discontinue her training.

He headed for the old temple, sending a message through his Bond with Ezra to carry out the post-Gauntlet activities and celebration without him. The Padawans and masters were in the midst of a hearty feast, a few sporting bacta patches and many in new tunics while human Padawans pushed back damp hair from their clean faces. He had passed by the senior Padawans, raising an eyebrow to remind them of their appointment after the feast. They had nodded grimly. Luke had already informed Ben and Rey when he’d seen them before dinner—both soaking wet as they tracked water through the Praxeum halls.

While Ezra was curious at his departure, he did not pry at Luke’s desire for privacy. At the heart of the ruins, past the now-cracked center stones up the stairs, Luke sat beneath the sacred tree and began to meditate—pushing aside the fascinating cosmic Force that still lingered in the space where he had first met Rey—stretching his consciousness and projecting his image across the galaxy.

“You know how much I hate ‘talking’ to you like that. It gives me the worst karking headache after.” Leia massaged her temples. Despite her complaints, Luke could sense her unease and, even after spending nearly thirty years of her life maintaining a neutral facade, perfect for political machinations, he could see the cracks in her expression.

It was early morning on Chandrila, the soft pinks and blues of dawn creeping along the horizon, providing some illumination to the dim apartment. Leia wore a blue silk robe over her white sleepwear and her hair was undone, tumbling down her shoulders like a chestnut waterfall, wavy from her usual braids. He thought of Ben’s earlier handiwork on Rey’s hair and wondered if Leia was yet aware of the newest addition to the family. Then again, Rey wasn’t even aware she had become part of their messy family.

Leia tilted her head curiously at his unintended projection. “Who is Rey?”

Luke sighed before he sat down. “Another, longer story. Tell me, why does Hera think the kids are in danger?”

Rey smoothed the hem of her tunic for the fifth time in as many minutes. She almost flinched when Ben raised an eyebrow at her, his eyes still closed in meditation. She was projecting through their Bond. Exhaling slowly, she brought up her mental guardian, for her sake and Ben’s. She knew she should shut her eyes and attempt to meditate until Luke returned to dole out their punishment—as Jacen had put it, while Pela was kinder in calling it a lesson—but she couldn’t help but seize the moment to study the other half of her dyad. His hair was still damp from the ’fresher, curling around his ears. An image of him in his soaked sheer tunic, with rivulets of water dancing down his muscled arms flashed unhelpfully in her mind.

Ben shifted beside her and Rey was horrified that she might be projecting again. She glanced down, her eyes landing on his hand resting casually on his knee. It was only once before that she’d seen his bare hands—and more, her memory supplied—when he’d so often been covered head to toe. Now, all the senior Padawans and Rey were sat in a close circle, their knees nearly brushing—but a traitorous part of Rey couldn’t help but want to reach out and trace the veins visible on the back of his large hand.

Your presence is soothing, a young man’s voice echoed across the Force and Rey felt love emanating from the moment.

She could not explain her sudden fascination with his hands, only that it had become more obvious in her new life. After they’d returned from the lake, Kira had shyly asked Ben if there were Alderaanian braids that represented victory. When he’d nodded in affirmation, Kira had grinned widely before demanding that he braid Rey’s hair, since she beat him.

Rey had sputtered, hands frozen in the middle of squeezing the lake water from her hair. “We won together,” Rey had reasoned gently, shaking out the excess drops from her hands. “Why don’t you wear the victory braids for both of us?” Her sister had been all too pleased by the suggestion before she had dragged Ben off to the nearest bench by the training grounds, tiny hands tugging him down onto the stone with a wet plop. She had sat on the ground in front of him, Ben’s fingers deft as he easily braided her hair, his own still dripping over his shoulders—though he was careful not to get the youngling wet. Rey had watched from the shade of a nearby tree with a mixture of amusem*nt and jealousy—but she was loathe to admit the latter. She wondered if it was rational to be jealous of herself.

Kira had asked Ben many, many questions while he did her hair, including how he learned to make such complicated styles, moving her hands in a nonsensical manner in a pale imitation of his own dexterity. He had scoffed, explaining that it was easy to just put one strand of hair over another, on and on and on, tugging and twisting until the style was complete. Kira had asked Ben not unkindly if there were braids for second-place. He huffed a laugh and shook his head.

“No,” he’d said. “Besides, my hair isn’t long enough.”

“You should grow it out,” Kira had responded as though it were the most obvious solution in the galaxy, reminding Rey that she was still simply just a child. She had twisted to squint up at Ben, assessing his wet hair, eyeing the longer strands around his ears. “Maybe you can do little braids until your hair is as long as Rey’s and then she can braid your hair!”

A red flush had suddenly bloomed across his cheeks and he had avoided Rey’s gaze. “S-sure,” Ben’s response would have sounded patronizing from anyone else, but his smile was warm and genuine even as he patted the crown of braids atop her head to indicate he was finished. Kira had spent the rest of the afternoon flitting around the Praxeum with a smug grin, the other younglings trailing after her, and her braided hair swinging like a pendulum. Rey still marveled at his skills, transforming their hair into such intricate works of art. She thought maybe she’d like for him to teach her how to do it one day.

Ben’s knee nudged hers lightly, a soft crooked smile blooming across his face. Rey felt like her cheeks were on fire. Thankfully, the Force had sent Luke to interrupt the moment—yet again, she remembered with a huff, though this time she was grateful for it.

He had been meditating at the center of the temple—where Rey had first appeared, she had noted with some dread when she’d entered the temple, her steps hesitant until Pela had urged her forward into an antechamber, this one in better shape than the main chamber with its broken stones and toppled pillars. Well, in as much as a thousand-year-old temple could be in better shape. Hundreds of years of overgrowth and vines choked the ancient stones and sprouted between the cracks, the planet determined to reclaim the spot. Even in a temple devoid of sentients for centuries, Rey could feel the life of the planet teeming within and around it.

The Padawans straightened when Luke approached, cloaked and hooded. His expression was shadowed, though when the light from the moons caught his face, she saw concern etched there.

When he pushed his hood back, his expression was neutral as he flashed them a tired smile. “All right then, Padawans, time for another lesson.”

It seemed straightforward in theory when Luke explained it—floating rocks, she could have laughed—but it was much more difficult in practice. The senior Padawans had to balance the floating rocks one on top of the other. The tricky part was that every Padawan had two rocks to balance and they were not concurrent in the sequence of the tower they were building. Luke was the lodestone at the bottom. Ben was next, followed by Rey, then Lorna, Pela, Lorrik, Jacen, Quis, then Tak before the order repeated for their second rock with Luke as the capstone.

Luke would levitate his foundation stone, causing the rest of them to concentrate on maintaining the tower’s structure while keeping their rocks in line and as close together as possible without dropping them or knocking the other Padawans’ stones out of alignment. It was kriffing hard to project an aura of meditative peace when she was sweating and clenching her jaw in concentration, reaching out to follow Ben’s lead and projecting her own movements so Lorna could follow.

“This lesson encapsulates teamwork and cooperation while also passively enhancing your Force skills,” Luke had explained.

Rey’s jaw ached, there was nothing karking passive about this exercise.

It seemed to stretch into the night for hours after dinner, her stomach clenching with the familiar ache of emptiness from going too long without a meal. Every once in a while, Luke would challenge them, moving his rock in one direction before rapidly switching to another direction, but Ben was as relentless as his uncle, tuned into the Force with a calm strength she had only ever witnessed from him once before. Her dark thoughts caused her two rocks to waver in their place in the tower—the others shuddering for only a moment before she centered herself, concentrating on the moment and the lessons Luke was trying to impart.

Still looking to the horizon. Never here, now, hmm? the same wizened voice from before rang out in her mind, chastising. Rey hoped the flush on her cheeks could be dismissed as exertion but she didn’t dare open her eyes to see if Master Skywalker was watching her closely.

Suddenly, Rey could feel calm reassurance from the other Padawans—even those who had looked at her with enmity when she’d returned triumphant after the Gauntlet. Emotion gathered in the hollow of her throat, nearly choking her with gratitude. It was the same feeling she’d experienced from her friends in the Resistance. Overwhelmed with thoughts of Finn and her Poe, she felt wetness on her cheeks but didn’t open her eyes until their lesson was over.

When the rocks were safely levitated out of their position at the center of the circle and returned to each Padawan, Rey opened damp eyes to find the group’s gaze on her and Ben’s hand on her own. Lorna reached out and seized her other hand as the others followed suit until they were linked physically and in the Force.

“You’re not alone, Rey,” Luke spoke in a quiet, almost reverent voice, looking pleased from the senior Padawan’s behaviour. “Remember,” he directed to the rest of them, “you are strongest together. Never allow fear and doubt to sow discord in your ranks for that would be the path to the dark side.”

The morning after the Gauntlet, when Rey entered the hangar, Jacen was already tinkering away in the depths of one of the ship hulls. It was strange for him to be working without blasting his music in the hangar, but Rey was not complaining as she staved off another headache. Even stranger, Ezra’s Loth-cat lazed around near the lip of the hull, tail swinging as she periodically swatted at Jacen just beyond Rey’s view.

Despite the late night cathartic meditation, Rey couldn’t help but feel angry at herself for crying and wasting precious moisture. A part of her reminded herself that she was no longer living in a desert—but crying always left her feeling dehydrated and battling a migraine.

Wanting to avoid Jacen and his cheery nature, she steered clear of his ship and headed towards the transport to continue repairing the processor. She was close to completing repairs and the ship was nearly ready. All in all, Rey would estimate that three or four of the ships (barring Luke’s X-wing and the two transports used to ferry younglings during Family Week) were finally space-worthy.

It was early enough that she caught the Mantis crew heading out, Cere and Greez giving her a wave while Merrin stood on the ramp so that she was level with Cal. The two held hands, their touch lingering as they whispered their goodbyes. Rey looked away as they leaned in for a kiss, still unaccustomed to open displays of affection.

After the ship was nothing more than a speck in the brightening sky, Cal made his way over to where Rey was working, leaning up to watch her and occasionally offer his input, BD beeping helpfully from atop the crates, displaying diagrams of the ship components.

“I haven’t forgotten,” Cal said quietly, drawing her attention away from the repairs. He scratched at the scar on his nose. “About helping you manage your psychometry.”

“Oh,” Rey nodded before turning back to the exposed piping. “It’s all right, I know you’re busy Master Kestis.”

He crossed his arms and pursed his lips, unhappy with her clear dismissal. “It’s an annoying ability,” he confessed, earning a scoff from Rey. “Especially if you can’t control it, it can overwhelm you, cause you to freeze up.”

She paused at that. “Would it…could it happen in the middle of battle?” Rey thought back on the time she’d accidentally picked up a blaster from a fallen Resistance member, still more comfortable with conventional weapons than a lightsaber. She had fallen to her knees, frozen in fear and pain, reliving the woman’s last moments. She made sure to pack her own blasters for skirmishes after that.

Cal seemed to sense her uneasy memory and nodded grimly. “It can happen—it did with me when I fought against an Inquisitor. I grabbed her saber…that was a bad idea.” He let out a dry chuckle but it was forced and Rey could only imagine what nightmarish visions had plagued him.

Frowning, she pushed up her welding goggles to look the Jedi in the eye. “When I arrived here, the lightsaber I had with me contained a cracked crystal—but the first time I held it, I didn’t feel anything.”

Cal hummed as he crossed his arms, considering. “Were you…close with the saber’s wielder?”

Across the hangar, she could hear Jacen working and hoped he couldn’t hear them.

Rey hesitated, tilting her head gently from side to side. “You could say that…Do you get echoes from Merrin? If you touched say, one of her bracelets?”

“Of course, sometimes,” Cal responded easily, a soft smile on his lips as he thought of his wife. There was a sly gleam in his eye when he looked back at her.

Rey tried not to sulk at the fact that Cal had gleaned more information from her than she intended to share. Only Ezra, and potentially Luke, seemed to be aware of her and Ben’s status as a dyad in the Force.

“Unless you consciously choose not to read an echo, the only times when our psychometry doesn’t work is on ourselves or objects that belong to us.” He paced in the small space beneath the ship for a few seconds. “Imagine—it would be impossible to live our lives if every time we pulled on our boots we relived our own memories made with those boots.” When she remained stubbornly silent, he went on. “So that saber you had with you appears to belong to you, or at least, responded to you as it would its original wielder.”

It wasn’t hers, but Cal already seemed to know that. She sighed heavily. “It appears there’s much I’m not aware of about my own abilities. I would be…grateful if we could discuss everything. Even the parts of my past I seem to have…blocked out.” She bit her tongue to keep from requesting Ezra’s presence in their meeting.

Cal nodded, a smile brightening his features. BD beeped in affirmation, already deciding on the room and time and she chuckled at the droid’s enthusiasm. “BD and I know better than most the hardship of unlocking forcibly-forgotten memories.” The droid seemed to droop as it let out a subdued beep. Cal glanced up at her, his eyes heavy with grief even as he continued to smile. “I’ve learned to overcome my trauma and I’m here to help you work through yours, Rey.”

Her throat was thick at his words and all she could do was nod. It seemed to be enough for the Jedi who gave her a final wave before heading out of the hangar, BD hopping onto his shoulders to hitch a ride.

As she watched his retreating back, Rey could not help but feel a surge of grief at the thought that perhaps Cal, Ezra, Ahsoka, and the others, were all dead in her original life—there was no other way to explain their absence and Luke’s isolation. She felt a spike of anger lance through her heart at the injustice of never having met or been mentored by them. She made a promise to the Force that she would not squander this opportunity to learn and finally know herself, even if that meant laying the truth bare for all the masters to see.

An hour after her conversation with Cal, she had hardly made any progress, cursing the ship as she banged the hydrospanner against the empty hull, piping and tubes strewn around her haphazardly like the innards of some gutted metal beast.

“And here I thought it needed more than a few good knocks,” a gravelly voice intoned from behind her.

“M-master Skywalker!” Rey twisted, barely maintaining her grip on the spanner as she faced him. The Loth-cat was hot on Luke’s heels, rubbing itself against his shins. “I thought you were Jacen…” she trailed off as her eyes roved over the exposed skin of his torso. The sleeveless, oil-stained under-tunic showed off his arms and a good deal of his chest where a network of silvery scars were scattered across the expanse of his skin.

When she looked back at his face, she flushed under his knowing gaze. “Force lightning,” he explained casually, wiping the machine oil from his flesh hand. “Courtesy of Emperor Palpatine.”

Father! Please! She could feel his anguish and pain as it rippled through time in the Force, the echo of his screams as the lightning coursed through his body…

“I’m sorry,” Rey mumbled, her grip on the hydrospanner turning her knuckles white.

He chuckled, to her surprise. “Why? Not like you did this to me.”

“I…could have hurt the others. It was uncontrolled and I was…angry.”

“You didn’t hurt them,” he reassured in a gentle voice. He leaned against a crate of extra couplings, the muscles in his arms rippling as he crossed them over his chest. The Loth-cat settled on his feet. “I know a thing or two about anger and almost losing yourself to that feeling.”

Rey was dubious but bit her tongue, waiting for the master to impart his wisdom.

“I was more worried about the others’ anger and fear—if that had festered, it would have caused a rift between you, driving you all further apart and into the dark.” He chuckled, “Besides, it’s not in a Sith’s nature to feel remorse.”

She huffed at that.

His expression sobered for a moment. “You have to know, Rey, the temptation will always be there—a shadow is cast from the sun—”

And for the briefest moment of pure instinct, I thought I could stop it. It passed like a fleeting shadow… Luke from her past whispered in her mind.

“—dark can’t exist without light,” the Luke before her continued.

“A balance,” she intoned quietly.

He nodded. “But it’s important to remember—you always have a choice, even if you’ve made the wrong ones before or fallen completely—no one is ever really gone.”

I’ve got to save you, Luke’s voice, young and full of painful yearning.

You already have, a tired man wheezed, at ease.

She considered his words, thinking once again of Ben, He’ll turn, she’d declared once with such confidence, the same earnest optimism that seemed to radiate from Luke.

As they sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Luke did her the courtesy of looking out beyond the hangar, at the lush greenery spreading out to the horizon. Two children of the barren desert marveling at the vibrant life of a green planet.

“Now, it would be hypocritical of my Jedi teachings not to reveal that I overheard your conversation with Cal.” His words were blunt, causing her to flinch. He very much reminded Rey of Leia in that moment.

Rey squared her shoulders. “I’ve decided the masters should know what I know—what I remember,” she amended at his raised eyebrow.

“All of us?”

“Yes,” her voice didn’t waver.

Luke nodded, failing to hide the small, proud smile that bloomed across his lips. “All right, we’ll convene in the Master’s Chamber tonight.”

She had decided. She would tell the masters everything before meeting with Ben privately to confess—not just that they were a dyad, but that she came from another life where he had followed a different path and where the galaxy had nearly been engulfed by the endless darkness that consumed everything. Perhaps revealing the truth to the masters would help Rey course-correct this universe, to avoid the tragedy and death from her original timeline.

The Force seemed to hum at her decision, even as dread seemed to loom on the horizon.

Chapter 15: The Storm

Chapter Text

Rey stared at the familiar stranger in the mirror of the dormitory ’fresher. It was the same face she had in her old life, but it was…different. Missing the evidence of herself, the harsh shadows of hardship, delicate laugh lines, furrowed frown lines. Her hair was a vibrant brown, missing the strands of silver that had emerged in the last few years of her first life. She thought of the scar that marred her future face, marking her mourning and signaling the worst period of her life. She wondered darkly if she would ever have the misfortune of gaining the scar again in her new life, despite not recalling how she’d gotten it in the first place—only that Ben had been with her when she’d been injured. Her fingers reached up to delicately trace its would-be path on her unbroken skin and full cheek. She saw nothing, her psychometry dormant in the back of her mind—just as Cal had said.

She dropped her hand to her side before turning her thoughts on what she would tell the masters later that night. Her stomach twisted as she thought of Ben and their upcoming conversation. He didn’t even have the barest indication from her that they needed to sit down for a serious conversation about time travel—she huffed a laugh as she dropped her gaze to stare at her callused hands (not as rough as they used to be, but she was getting there). Rey didn’t want to linger on her past longer than necessary, especially since she was likely going to spend hours discussing it with other people.

Cupping water in her hands, she wondered idly if she should bring the senior Padawans into the fold. Lorrik, Quis, and Tak’s horrified and angered faces flashed in her memory and Rey dispelled them by hastily bringing up the water to splash across her face. If she were being honest, she was only telling the masters because they had the power to help her avert future crises (and because half of them had already seemingly figured it out)—and telling Ben was her choice and a necessary one…she couldn’t leave the other half of her dyad in the dark. Although their training session in the old temple had been cathartic, the others would have to earn her trust for the privilege of her history.

With the rest of the day ahead of her, Rey decided to spend her time on the training fields. Despite her resolve, she had felt nervous remaining in the hangar with Master Skywalker, so she had quietly excused herself and all but fled to the dormitory. After cleaning up any lingering sweat and stains from ship fluid, she headed for the training fields.

The air was crisp and the sun was high in the azure sky as she stepped out of the Praxeum, blinking back against the glare. A few younglings ran underfoot and she sidestepped them easily, accustomed to Kira and her troupe’s tactics. Some of the junior Padawans smiled shyly at Rey as she strode past and she nodded (only slightly awkwardly) at them.

She found the senior Padawans in an area of the fields closer to the lake. While her dip in the water had been refreshing after the trials of the Gauntlet, she was not keen on repeating the experience during training. She was surprised to find Ben seated by the shore and writing rather than sparring. He glanced up, sensing her approach through their Bond and Rey felt her cheeks warm as he smiled softly. The light refracted off the surface of the lake, casting glittering rays across his face. She sat when he motioned for her to join him. She leaned back on her hands, hiding her wince as she felt the wet grass beneath her palms, more accustomed to the coarse grains of Jakku.

They sat in amiable silence, the sound of his calligraphy pen scratching across the flimsi and the soft waves lapping the shore a susurrus symphony. He did not question her decision to sit by him rather than join Pela who had impatiently called out to Rey earlier; he did not press her to speak or even look at him—it was infuriating! She was so used to Kylo’s abrasive and selfish nature that she didn’t know how to comport herself in Ben’s presence. She supposed that it would change in the next cycle after she confessed to him. He would be hurt and angry and would surely accuse her of being nothing more than a filthy, lying scavenger.

Ben glanced at her when she brought her knees up to hug them, tilting his head at her unconscious projection of anger and fear across their Bond. Before he could open his mouth to discover the source of her distress, Rey twisted to face him. “I’d like if we could meet again, alone.”

His mouth shut at her words, his ears red as he averted his eyes. Rey scrambled to salvage the situation, her own throat and cheeks hot with humiliation.

“There’s something I need to tell you, that’s all!”

Oh, something, is that all? Why not tell him now? Her own mind seemed to mock her.

“Uh, sure,” he mumbled as he set his calligraphy down on the grass before him with careful hands. “Tonight?”

She hesitated. She didn’t know how long her talk with the masters would take. “Maybe, or tomorrow morning?”

He nodded, tips of his hair bouncing with the motion. She refrained from reaching out to run her fingers through it. “I’ll let you know then,” Rey reassured before she rose to her feet, dusting off her backside, trying very hard to be casual and not like someone escaping from an awkward situation.

As she passed him, her fingers lightly brushed against his shoulder, sending a warmth through her at the contact. Rey avoided his gaze when he glanced up at her, though she could feel an insistent tug behind her navel through their Bond.

No longer unsure of her standing with the senior Padawans, she approached to join in the practice to work on her stamina and Force control during battle. It was yet another thing she was lacking in experience. Pela explained the uses and application of the Force in a saber or physical fight before allowing Rey to go through the motions.

In her first spar with the senior Padawans, Rey had used the Force offensively, but it had been uncontrolled and dampened by the ysalamiri cuffs. Before that, in her old life, she had only ever used the Force once—to stop Kylo’s saber. In that moment, she could taste the salt water on her lips, before she scowled—Cal had been right, psychometry was an annoying ability for someone who so desperately did not wish to remember a life full of painful memories.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the redhead appeared on the edge of the training field in a sleeveless tunic, his saber in hand and his expression was one of open excitement. Beside him in a similar raiment was Ahsoka, though she sported a sly smile.

“Gather ’round younglings,” Pela called out to the other senior Padawans when she spotted them, a hungry grin growing on her lips. “The Masters would like to demonstrate how it’s done.”

It was mesmerizing, watching two masters go at it with such speed and ferocity that, were they true enemies, they would have killed each other in a variety of interesting methods. Certainly, Ahsoka’s risky maneuver when she had tested Rey was not the only trick she had. The Togruta’s style was filled with showy flips and twirls that reminded Rey of the sand dancers back on Jakku—those who had trained their entire lives to move like wind over the sand with deadly speed and grace, expertly avoiding the dangers lurking beneath. Ahsoka moved as though she were combating numerous invisible enemies, meeting them head-on.

Cal was an interesting contrast, more defensive until he found an opening to show off his own moves. Rey had gaped when Cal’s saberstaff suddenly split into two, better matching Ahsoka’s pair and meeting her blow for blow, their movements like a mirror. As she catalogued his moves, Rey idly wondered if she could modify her own saberstaff to also come apart.

When the smell of singed fabric filled the air, Rey realized they were not using training sabers, but their own at full power. It seemed like something Jacen would do, she mused as she glanced over at him. BD had chosen him for a perch and Jacen’s eyes were shining, his grin wide and bright as he watched the masters—well, Master Kestis and whatever Ahsoka preferred to be called—no doubt itching to try such risky maneuvers on his peers.

Occasionally, Pela would call out the Forms and various Force-assisted moves to the others, though Rey knew it was for her benefit, and she gratefully soaked in the information as it washed over her. She much preferred practice to method, sparring and learning from trial and error rather than listening to a dull holo lecture from various Jedi masters who were long since dead.

The spar went on for some time that they had attracted a crowd of younglings and junior Padawans. It seemed that masters sparring together was a rare occurrence and what passed for entertainment on a planet not connected to the HoloNet. Jacen pulled one small Rodian from underfoot, positioning him in front so he could see, hands on his slight shoulders, expression fond.

Asha and Kira and their troupe of youngling friends had also joined the crowd on the outskirts. One of Kira’s friends—Vari, if Rey recalled correctly—took up a stick and challenged the others in a play-fight mimicking the masters. The Wookiee youngling growled eagerly as they too grabbed a branch to play along. Rey watched them for a few moments until she was certain Kira could play along without any ill intent. It had taken her some time to understand that not all fights were dirty or dishonorable. She had been confused at first, when Rey had explained, but had promised to try not to bite or kick anyone after that.

Ben eventually approached to watch the spectacle.

His attention fully on the spar, Rey took the opportunity to discreetly study him. He held onto his calligraphy kit bundled up in a leather satchel, fingers clasped securely around the kit. Her eyes lingered once again on his hands. She was struck by the memory of Kylo’s gloved hand reaching out as flames engulfed Snoke’s throne room—and another memory, of his bare hand reaching out to touch hers. Rey hadn’t realized how much she had wanted to feel his skin on hers, so starved for physical contact that Finn had been the first person to touch her without malicious intent since her parents had abandoned her on Jakku. Now, she had lost count of the casual touches exchanged amongst her friends and Resistance peers, but she could count on a single hand the number of times she and Ben had touched before she had fallen into the black hole.

Lorna, who had been standing by Ben—dwarfed by his size—leered at Rey with a knowing look, arms crossed smugly. Rey frowned and quickly averted her gaze, fighting back against the heat that climbed up the column of her throat. She rubbed her wrist, chasing the phantom itch that had suddenly burned across it, turning her attention back on the spar.

Ahsoka leapt over Cal’s head with an assist from the Force, bringing her sabers back to guard against his slash as he whirled around to attack her back. The fight was over in three more moves, both leveling their saber at the other’s throat. A stalemate, in much the same way Rey’s fights with Kylo had been—though she wondered if he had been holding back from truly hurting her. After all, his goal had been to turn her to the dark side, not kill her. She chanced another glance at Ben who was grinning as he joined in with the others as they clapped at the display, calligraphy kit tucked under his arm to free up his hands. Ahsoka curtsied and Cal shot them a lopsided smile, his cheeks flush from effort.

“All right, who wants to take us on?” Ahsoka challenged, winking at the younglings who balked at the open invitation, backpedalling into the senior Padawans in their haste to escape.

It was Pela who moderated, pairing Ben with Ahsoka and Rey with Cal while she herself took on Jacen and Lorrik, pairing Lorna with Quis, and relegating Tak to training the junior Padawans who stuck around, unafraid of Ahsoka’s challenge.

Cal was a patient teacher—more forgiving than Pela when he pointed out the flaws in her footwork or form, correcting with a gentle tone. He had locked his sabers together so they appeared as one saberstaff to walk her through the various movements and blocks she could perform with her own weapon. He was careful never to touch her or her saber and Rey was reminded that she would do well if she did the same.

Wholly concentrated on her lesson, she avoided glancing over at Ben to watch his progress, but she couldn’t help but notice in the corner of her eye that he sat in meditation, much to her surprise, with Ahsoka speaking to him in low tones. Her momentary distraction cost her a sting on her exposed calf and she bit back a yelp. Cal merely raised an eyebrow before gesturing for her to fall back into the proper form. Her mumbled “Sorry, Master,” earned her an amused huff from the redhead who moved on to explaining the various Force abilities she could incorporate into her fighting style. He had her practice on the rocks, pushing and pulling boulders or freezing them in the air as he lobbed them in her direction.

When she explained that his next activity—throwing a saber in a controlled sweep—was something she was already familiar with, he seemed surprised but did not question her on it. She kept her mouth shut at his easy acceptance, hoping he would not see in some future Force echo that her experiences amounted to throwing the Skywalker saber with more of a frustrated rage than a controlled sweep. What mattered was that she could always recall the lightsaber and she clung almost fervently to that fact.

They then went for a jog through the jungle, practicing double-jumping over high obstacles. A Force-assisted jump was not new to Rey, accustomed as she was to avoiding chasms—or starcraft barreling towards her at full speed—but jumping in place was something she had never consciously worked on, so Cal drilled her in the exercise until loose strands of hair stuck to her red face and sweat dripped into her eyes. When she could jump to his satisfaction (and without her sarcastic response of “How high?”) they moved on to a deeper section of the jungle in order to practice wall running where old ruins jut out of the earth like the broken teeth of a behemoth.

This exercise was more difficult as her rational mind refused to believe she could run across a vertical surface without falling flat on her face. Cal was always ready to steady her with the Force whenever she fell and she was grateful they were training away from prying eyes—the commentary (and betting) from the senior Padawans would have been unbearable.

After she’d fallen yet again, cushioned by the Force, she planted her hands on her knees and shook her head. Cal let his hand drop and his control of the Force around her dissipate. “I can’t…can’t do it,” she gasped, out of breath from running full tilt six times in a row.

“You have to try,” he responded in a resolute voice, clear that they would not be leaving the jungle until she had mastered this skill.

Do or do not, there is no try, the voice from before counseled sagely.

Cal allowed her a minute of reprieve before prompting her to continue the exercise. She had to trust that the Force would carry her across a large portion of the wall—it was not a wall, it was the floor, she reasoned with herself. The floor just…slanted. With that rhetoric echoing in her mind she took off at a run before launching herself towards the wall-floor, angling her feet so that they were flat on the surface even as her body leaned away, following gravity. Her feet and the Force carried her across the wall for seven steps before her elation and surprise broke through her concentration and she stumbled back to the earth.

Rey spun to face Cal who smiled at her incredulous expression. “Well done,” he praised. “Again.”

The meeting with the masters had been less harrowing than she had assumed. See? Poe’s voice echoed in her memory. Not so bad! It was easy for him to say, he didn’t have to stare down seasoned Jedi masters and weave together an outrageous tale involving time travel. The worst Poe ever had to contend with was coming up with ridiculous excuses for reckless flying maneuvers. Then again, his commanding officer had been Leia, so maybe they were even now.

When she walked into the Master’s Chamber after a late dinner, it had been with trepidation and on shaky legs. But when Ezra smiled at her reassuringly, she sat in the center without fear. She had to remember Luke’s lesson, that fear was her enemy.

“None of us is without fear,” Luke had said that night to the senior Padawans after the Gauntlet. “Not even me,” he had added, smirking at their dubious looks. “What’s important is to allow your fear to wash over you and not rule you—to give in to that fear? That is the failing of a Jedi.”

So Rey had allowed her fear and nervousness to seize her for only a moment before she inhaled slowly to release it into the Force. There was a twinkle in Luke’s eye as he watched her and a subtle nod from Cal as she sank down onto the cushion.

Nine of the eleven chairs were occupied, but by Rey’s estimation every master at the Praxeum was present—she idly wondered what happened to the two that were missing, or if perhaps one of them was meant for Leia, but then, who was the last chair for? A question for another time, she reminded herself when she caught the others staring at her expectantly.

“Masters,” she began in a clear voice. “Thank you for meeting with me. There is much I have kept from you—and myself—but I hope to rectify that now.” When they remained silent, Rey carried on. “There is a darkness in the galaxy that must be extinguished—I believe it’s why the Force sent me here in the first place. To ensure a terrible tragedy does not happen and to prevent billions of sentients from falling under the yoke of this new regime.”

Master Mursea leaned forward in her seat, her lekku twitching. “Is this the same tragedy that Syndulla is convinced about?”

Rey frowned. “Jacen?”

“Hera,” Ezra clarified. “She’s on her way here with Poe and your friend to make sure the Praxeum is secure.”

Her heart ached—Finn was so close yet so far away from her, light-years stood between them. How long before she could embrace him again? A cycle? Two? Five? She had no idea where the trio had departed from and how long it would take them to get to the Praxeum. Rey had to focus on the present—ironic, considering she was about to discuss everything relating to time travel and alternate universes.

“There is no threat to the Praxeum,” Rey began instead—she had to ease the masters’ minds.

Luke’s brow furrowed and his flesh hand stroked his beard as he considered her words.

“How can you be sure of that?” Ahsoka spoke in her soft melodic voice.

Rey was silent for a few breaths as she thought of Ben and his sessions with Luke, and the senior Padawans who were not doomed to be dark reflections of themselves, consumed by hatred. “I’m certain this…incident has been averted. It likely would’ve happened by now if I weren’t here.” She couldn’t delay any longer. “In my past, terrible things happened all over the galaxy, planets were destroyed…many people died…and they stemmed from this one event—so the future of this galaxy is already brighter for its absence.”

Master Hiveth frowned at this. “What planets are you referring to? I believe we would have heard of any recent—”

“The planets still exist…in this timeline.” She bit her lip as she allowed them a few heartbeats to process her words. “I had told you the first night I met you all that I didn’t know much of my past. But I do know that the Force sent me back through time to correct certain moments in my history—your present—for the betterment of the galaxy.”

Master Tisar’s mouth twitched, though Rey could not tell if it was to smirk or frown. “You are saying you are from the future?”

“Yes,” she responded curtly, deciding to take a page out of Master Skywalker’s repertoire. “You’ve met my younger self already.”

“So you are Kira?” Master Lorith interrupted, mouth agape.

“I’m Rey, she’s Kira,” she responded with too much venom. She inhaled to center herself. “We’re…different people. She will not grow up the same way I had, abandoned on a desert planet and cut off from the Force.”

“Can we utilize the Force in this way?” Master Omaall asked, turning his attention to Luke who pursed his lips unhappily. “To change the past, perhaps avoid the Purge?”

Ahsoka and Ezra protested at the same time. “We cannot use the Force to satisfy our own selfish desires.” Her voice was clipped, hands clasped too tightly in her lap.

Ezra shifted forward in his seat, seemingly ready to spring out of it. “The Force chose to send Rey back here at this moment in time and not earlier—this is the point in history that needs correcting. We cannot change the outcome of the Purge.”

Cal remained silent, eyes distant and sad, his hand clenched into a fist on his lap. It had not occurred to Rey to think that some of the other masters might want to undo greater wrongs further in the past.

Master Lorith gestured gently. “Perhaps if Rey described exactly how she—”

“She doesn’t remember what happened,” Ezra interrupted, his thick brows low over his eyes. Above the domed glass ceiling, the binary moons cast eerie shadows across his face, elongating his features into something more animalistic.

“It is by the will of the Force that she is here,” Luke spoke at last. “We would do well to remember that.”

That seemed to rein in the masters and temper flaring emotions. Rey had nearly panicked when it seemed like the masters had wanted her to explain the mechanics of how she’d travelled through time. In her own time she couldn’t even properly explain to Finn how to float a rock for kriff's sake. “Just reach out and do it!” She had advised loudly over Poe’s laughing and Finn’s shouting insistence that he was doing just that!

“Masters, if you please, what I’ve come here to say is not about how I was sent back, but how we can combat the growing threat of the First Order—what you call Imperial Remnants in this time. They are a new faction borne out of the ashes of the old Empire.”

“This seems to be a political problem, Padawan,” Master Mursea spoke gently, as though to a lost child.

Probably not entirely inaccurate, Rey thought grudgingly.

“Perhaps the matter should be brought—”

“My sister and the Chancellor have been made aware,” Luke intoned, his expression difficult to read though he did not meet the other masters’ eyes.

“The rise of the First Order doesn’t just threaten the New Republic,” Ezra added with an encouraging nod towards Rey who squared her shoulders.

“In my time, the First Order had all but eradicated the New Republic, wiping out their seat of power and hunting the Resistance to near-extinction. Over the course of two decades they managed to abduct and enslave millions of children into their new Stormtrooper program—some of whom were Force sensitives, like my friends, Finn and Jannah.” She inhaled to catch her breath and to brace them for the most important reason why the Jedi should become involved in taking the First Order down. “The head of the Order was a creature called Snoke, a Sith master who had…taken on an apprentice to train in the ways of the dark side.” She kept her gaze studiously off Luke when she mentioned Snoke’s apprentice, though she could still feel his eyes boring into her. Cal’s lips were pursed knowingly and Rey bit her tongue, having forgotten that he had seen her memories the first time they’d met. She didn’t know him well enough to determine if he would have told Luke of Ben’s fate.

The other masters seemed stunned and alarmed by the revelation of Snoke’s existence as they glanced around at each other and at Luke who remained impassive even though this was the first time he was gleaning this information from Rey.

“A Sith?”

“How could we not sense him?”

“Where are they now?”

“We must shore up defenses of the Praxeum—”

“—apprentice go unnoticed?”

“—Skywalker, you must call for New Republic aid—”

“—the culprit behind—”

“Enough,” Luke flared his signature with such force that everyone in the chamber flinched as the wave of his power crested against their mental walls. “The most pressing issue is securing the Praxeum against any threat. Between all of us, the kids should be safe, but we need to begin to strategize on how to go after this Snoke and his apprentice.”

Rey could not interrupt to tell Luke that Snoke technically didn’t have an apprentice in this timeline anymore thanks to her meddling. She wasn’t worried about Snoke, not after she and Ben had taken him down in her old life—he didn’t stand a chance against eight seasoned master Jedi. An alien with many eyes flashed suddenly in her mind like a warning and Rey flinched at the abrupt image from the Force, a reminder of a greater threat. She thought of the nightmares plaguing her and Ben and wondered if he’d told his uncle about them and the mysterious alien that seemed to haunt them. She could not recall ever having encountered the strange alien.

“Where was this Sith lord in your time?” Master Lorith asked her gently after they’d concluded preliminary plans to secure the Praxeum’s defenses.

Rey hesitated. “I’m not sure where he is now—when I faced him for the first time it was on his ship, the Supremacy—”

Ezra snorted at the name before waving a hand to apologize for interrupting.

“It’s a Mega-class Star Dreadnought…I don’t think they exist yet. Poe later told me that it also had hyperspace tracking capabilities, and the only way the Resistance was able to defeat them and escape was through the Holdo Maneuver.”

Ezra and the others sobered at the information.

“Amilyn Holdo?” Luke’s brow furrowed in recognition. “What was the Maneuver?”

“She cut through the Supremacy with a heavy cruiser at near light speed.”

“She what?” Luke gaped at this as the other masters murmured in surprise. Even the white markings over Ahsoka’s eyes rose high on her forehead. The rest of the masters fell silent when they realised that Admiral Holdo had been piloting and that such a maneuver would have been fatal.

“Why would she do that?” Ahsoka intoned quietly.

This is our most desperate hour, Leia’s young voice, beseeching. Rey could only give a slight shrug. “They were desperate…with too few allies.”

There was a long silence following her bleak insight into the future.

“You have given us much to contemplate,” Luke said as he rose from his seat, a king signaling to his court that their session was at an end.

The other masters followed suit and Rey scrambled to get on her feet, despite her confusion—they hadn’t decided on anything!

Luke carried on, “We will reconvene tomorrow night to discuss the next steps. There’s not much we can do about the First Order, that I will leave to Leia and the New Republic—but the Sith is something we can handle.”

Sith Lords are our speciality, the arrogant claim echoed through the Force, filling her with an uncertainty that seemed to steal her breath.

“What happened back then won’t happen this time,” Cal promised in a low voice, a fire in his eyes as he spoke directly to Rey.

She could only nod and hope that he was right. Then again, the Force was a fickle thing.

Wake…wake up…WAKE…

Rey startled back into consciousness, chest heaving as though she’d been running. The Force had been shouting a cacophony in dreams that she could not remember now the longer she was awake. She pushed back the covers that felt stifling as she sat up, hands closing over her face before rubbing away the last vestiges of sleep.

Something wasn’t right…a disturbance in the Force.

There was a heavy feeling in her stomach, as though she were standing at the top of a gutted Star Destroyer without a safety harness.

When she scrambled out of bed, reaching out recklessly to find the light source, she scraped her hand against a particularly rough patch of stone. She gasped as the jagged rock cut through her pliant flesh and she yanked her hand back to cradle against her chest. It was not particularly deep, but her palm bled freely all over her chest and bed until she wrapped an old tunic around it tightly.

What was happening? She felt the same kind of disorientation as when she would lay down to rest for a few minutes during the day only to wake hours later in darkness. Why had the Force shoved her back to the cold embrace of consciousness? Something wasn’t right…

Her thoughts on Kira, she dressed quickly, heedless of her bleeding hand staining everything, and grabbed her saber in her uninjured hand before she left her room. The halls were silent, the air still, and Rey’s unease grew even as she encountered no one and nothing but long shadows stretching over the walls. The hour was late, the torches on the walls sputtered with dim light, yet it was not early enough for the sun to rise.

Within minutes that felt like hours, she had made it to the youngling dormitory, quickly locating Kira’s room. Her breathing was uneven and haggard as she wrenched open the door—only to find the room empty and quiet. The gaping pit of fear in her stomach grew into a chasm. No need to panic—not yet, a voice much like Poe’s echoed in her mind, an attempt to keep calm.

She darted back into the hallway, counting three doors down and then across to find Asha’s room. It was not uncommon for Kira to bunk with one of the other younglings, especially since she still clung to the fear that she’d wake to find all her new friends and family gone—abandoning her once again.

Asha’s room was just as empty. Okay, can we panic now? Finn’s voice. Rey’s breathing was haggard in the silence of the hallway, loud in her ears but grounding her in reality—she had to breathe slowly before she blacked out from lack of oxygen. Rey pushed away from the stone doorframe as she continued down the hall. She had to think, where else would Kira and Asha be at this hour?

A flickering light in the distance caught her eye as she moved past one of the open windows. She rushed forward, clutching at the stone sill as she took in the massive fire that seemed to engulf the east end of the jungle, the diffused glow on the horizon like a false sunrise. The wind carried the scent of ash and heat. Were such fires normal on this planet? Perhaps during the hot season, but Rey had been told the planet had already begun tilting on its axis to enter the cold season. It was not the first planet Rey had been on to have such a fiery phenomenon. Without any equipment, she was unsure of how to put out the blaze, or at least ensure it didn’t reach the Praxeum.

The Resistance had machines and ships at the ready to drop enormous amounts of sand to stop or contain fires. She recalled one such instance, when the pilots had scrambled in the middle of the night, Poe hopping into a ship in just his underclothes, shouting orders over the chaos. The combined efforts of hundreds had spared the base—but here at the Praxeum they were fewer than one hundred and this was just an old stone school covered in flammable vines and leaves.

If the fire reached the Praxeum, it would be a disaster. Everyone was still asleep, Rey reasoned, there were no proximity alerts or alarms to wake and evacuate the denizens of the school. She reached out, trying to pinpoint at least one of the masters in the Force. Rey was surprised to find all of them near the fire, fighting to keep the students safe. Of course that’s where they would be—if the Force had woken her for this reason, no doubt it would have done the same for them. Even as she came to the realization that she had to join them to help, her feet had already carried her outside in a sprint.

“Rey?” Jacen’s voice rang out suddenly, startling her and she stopped short, twisting to find the source. He stood at one of the windows on the second level. “What’s happening?”

“Fire in the jungle! I’m going to help!” She didn’t bother keeping her voice down, the more people they could awaken, the better.

“I’ll get the others—stay safe until we join you!” He shouted even as he disappeared from view.

Rey turned back to the blaze knowing that Jacen wouldn’t need to wake up Ben as she felt his consciousness bloom in the back of her mind; his worry clear across their Bond. She pushed it aside as she ran as fast as she could towards the fire and the other masters.

She followed the same route as the obstacle course Cal had her run earlier that day—or was it yesterday by now? The moons were shrouded and the night was dark, only the dim glow of the distant inferno lighting her way. The wound on her palm throbbed as her heart rate increased and the Force seemed to tug insistently behind her navel, pulling her back in the direction of the Praxeum. If Kira were at the school then she was safer than being close to the blaze, Rey rationalized, so the Force could karking wait until she helped the masters deal with the fire. She soon passed through what felt like a curtain of heat as she neared the inferno and it staggered her for a moment as she coughed through the sudden ash that filled the air.

Rey spotted Ezra closest to her, standing on a boulder the size of an X-wing, his arms outstretched towards a horizontal column of water. Rey spotted another master through the haze and ash who stood close to the tree line. Ezra spared her a glance over his shoulder, no doubt sensing her presence.

“Is this normal?” Rey shouted over the roaring blaze, throwing up a hand in front of her face to deflect some of the heat rolling off the flames, despite her distance.

Ezra looked grim even as he continued to help the other masters in manipulating the water from the lake. His face was sweat-streaked and covered in ash. “Yes, but it’s too late in the season for a fire—and definitely for one like this.”

“How can I help?”

“Help Mursea with the trench, we need to contain this.”

The fire seemed to consume trees, leaves, rock and dirt alike in its almost unnatural haste to reach the sentients sleeping soundly at the school. Rey nodded and ran to the other side of the clearing, already drawing on the Force to aid her, carving up the earth beside the master. She couldn’t see Luke, but could sense him further in the jungle, probably busy containing his own sector of the fire.

The lake water seemed to evaporate quicker than it could quench the flames and Rey shouted that they needed sand if they hoped to kill the fire.

“There is none on this side of the planet,” Mursea responded, redoubling her efforts. “The only thing we have is dirt and rock!” The master ripped open the earth, toppling trees and splitting stones down the middle in her haste to widen the chasm.

Rey tried desperately to devise another solution, though the smoke and heat made it difficult to think, her throat was dry and coated in ash, her eyes stung with tears that evaporated as soon as they welled up.

“What about the fire itself? What if we pushed back the flames?”

Mursea shook her head, her lekku swishing back and forth over her shoulders. “It’s untamable and too large, even Master Skywalker couldn’t manage it.”

They had to try, Rey wanted to say before she bit her tongue, recalling the words from the Force. There was no try—all they could do was battle this to the best of their ability. With renewed resolve, Rey pulled up the earth in larger swaths, carving up a deep trench that reminded her of Starkiller. She could only hope the life force of the planet forgave her for the desecration, pouring her goodwill into her actions—doing this would save all the students back at the school.

“Masters!” Jacen called out when he arrived, pushing through the thick jungle foliage, the other senior Padawans hot on his heels. “Where do you need us?” Rey could only spare them a fleeting glance before returning to her work with Mursea, mimicking her movements to manipulate the Force. She knew Ben was not amongst them, she would have felt him approach.

“Coordinate and split off to find the other chokepoints and help the masters with a trench, we’ll drive the fire towards the lake!” Ezra leapt down from the boulder, abandoning the water column in order to aid them with digging. He took his place beside Rey, squeezing her shoulder in brief reassurance before taking up a grounding stance in order to manipulate the earth.

It was only moments later before she felt Ben’s signature spike, first with alarm and then with a rage that was strong enough to steal her breath. Rey’s control over the Force wavered as she pressed her hand against her heart where his hatred—and fear—took root. Something was terribly wrong. She turned her gaze back towards the Praxeum just as Ezra gasped beside her.

“The younglings—”

The Praxeum was under attack.

Kira, her throat seemed swollen shut but her fear was clear across the Force. Ezra grabbed her roughly by the tunic before she could bolt.

“Stay here with the senior Padawans and work to redirect the fire, the masters will deal with whatever’s happening back at the Praxeum.”

Mursea had already darted through the jungle with a calm grace that momentarily reassured Rey. She found her voice just before Ezra could leave as well. “Ben’s still back there.”

He nodded. “Then they’ll be safe until we arrive.” He put both hands on her shoulders. “Remember, Rey, fear is the great inhibitor, do not let it master you.”

When she blinked, she found herself alone, facing down a wall of fire. The muscles in her legs trembled with the effort of staying still. She knew that if she moved one inch, she would find herself racing back to the Praxeum. Rey had to let the fear wash over her rather than allow it to strangle her courage and hope. She allowed for a momentary fear to pass through her before pushing it—and Ben’s darkness lodged deep in her heart—aside into the cosmic Force. She faced the fire and raised her arms, gathering the Force to her as she continued the work the masters had started.

After agonizing minutes that seemed to stretch into oblivion, the sounds of the roaring inferno seemed to die away suddenly as Rey found herself standing outside the Praxeum. The air was cooler here and easier to breathe, but the scene was no less harrowing as terrified shrieks pierced the night air.

She could not see any students outside—none that still lived, she realized as her eyes adjusted—the dark shapes scattered outside the Praxeum were the unmoving bodies of those who had tried to escape. Knowing she had entered the mental space shared with her dyad, Rey spun around until she spotted him near the refectory entrance. He did not seem to realize she was there, preoccupied as he was with his opponent.

Ben twisted and danced around an alien so large that Ben seemed like a child in comparison. He dodged to the side, avoiding the oversized vibro mace the creature swung around with ease. Though their body and face were covered with black armor, the facial horns indicated the species to be a Dowutin. When the mace buzzed close to his face in the downswing, Ben brought his foot down on the head, burying it in the dirt a good six inches. As the Dowutin struggled to wrench his weapon free, Ben raced up the handle with Force-assisted balance and speed before he brought his saber down to behead the beast.

He kicked off the teetering body and landed on heavy feet beside the weapon. Ben’s chest heaved as he recovered but he kept his saber up defensively, as if worried the Dowutin would somehow reach out to pick up its head to reattach it to its body. When the death-spasms seemed to subside, Ben turned back to the Praxeum refectory. He wasn’t just tired, he was injured, Rey realized as he tried to mask his limp. She wondered how many enemies had infiltrated the Praxeum and how many he’d had to fight by himself.

“Come on, quick now,” he beckoned quietly to the shadows, eyes darting back and forth to spot potential threats. A group of twelve younglings and two junior Padawans emerged from the refectory, clutching onto one another as they stumbled forward to gather around Ben. A little Neimoidian grabbed his tunic and Ben put his hand comfortingly atop her head. “We need to get to the hangar,” he murmured. “There’s no one else left on this side of the Praxeum.” He had kept his gaze averted from the still bodies on the fields—though Rey could feel his grief, and his guilt.

“But those things are guarding the entrance, you can’t take them all by yourself!” a junior Padawan protested, his face streaked with tear tracks. There was a darkened stain on the Padawan’s sleep tunic that looked suspiciously like drying blood.

“The masters are on their way. We’ll make it,” Ben promised.

There are too many of them, what are we going to do? The child’s voice through the Force jarred Rey as she felt the wrongness of that moment echo back to her. She felt bile in her throat at the darkness of a fallen Jedi’s actions…she felt the flames, purifying and cleansing, so blindingly hot that she could no longer feel her limbs—

“Rey!”

Jacen yanked her back, panically smothering the fire blooming along her sleeve.

“We have to get back to the Praxeum,” she protested through tears—though she was unsure of their source. She could hardly breathe through ash-filled lungs and the severity of her burns had started to make itself known. Her arm was stiff where the fabric of her tunic had melted into her flesh, but she pushed the pain aside.

“Not until we redirect this,” Jacen responded firmly once he was sure no other parts of Rey were on fire. “Come on, together we can do it in half the time—then we can join the masters.”

She couldn’t mask the sobs as they wracked through her body, but Jacen didn’t press her for answers as they worked together to dig deep trenches to curb the advancing flames. They were almost to the lake, she could spot the churning waters beyond the gap in the tree line.

“On my way back to you, I spotted transports overhead,” Jacen began, his voice only shaking minutely. “Whoever they are, they want to take us prisoner.” He was trying to reassure her, Rey realized.

She couldn’t bring herself to tell him of the bodies she’d seen scattered across the training fields—the same fields they had dedicated all their time to practicing on—desecrated now with the blood of the innocent. What good was all their training if they couldn’t even save defenseless younglings?

It was difficult to hold on to the hope that the masters would rescue the younglings and drive back the enemy when they’d already failed.

Even with Jacen’s help, redirecting the fire took much too long. Rey had tried to keep her anger and frustration at bay as they worked, manipulating the Force until their muscles trembled with effort. They would be useless in a fight now, she thought as they raced back towards the Praxeum, one hand cut open and the other arm badly burned. She could not reconnect with Ben no matter how hard she concentrated—she never did learn to master their little visits through the Force before she’d been thrown back in time.

A mighty boom echoed through the jungle—an explosion in the distance—before the shockwave staggered the pair. The canopy overhead was too thick for them to spot any aerial movement, but Rey was intimately familiar with the sound. “A starship—”

“Torpedo,” Jacen concluded grimly as they redoubled their efforts to escape the jungle.

What reason could the invaders have to bomb the school if they were meant to take the students prisoner as Jacen had claimed? The familiar sounds of battle soon reached them as the trees thinned. Beyond the jungle was chaos shrouded in smoke from the crumbling Praxeum. In the distance, a transport crashed, wreathed in flames. Rey’s heart was in her throat—it was one of theirs.

Jacen had already disappeared into the confusion, deflecting blaster bolts, his saber hazy from the smoke that now blanketed the fields like a massive krykna’s cobweb.

Her limited vision made it difficult to tell who the enemy were exactly, but she could make out sentients in black cloaks escorted by what appeared to be soldiers in black plastoid armor, similar to the one the Dowutin had worn. One creature in a black cloak raised a pale, spindly hand at her, directing a soldier to take her down. For a moment, Rey couldn’t breathe—she had seen these creatures once before, in her battle on Exegol with Ben. If the acolytes were here, then that meant Snoke’s master was gathering power much earlier in this universe’s timeline. For one heart stopping moment she thought that Snoke might be here—but quickly dispelled the thought. He would never deign to stoop so low as to attack the Praxeum himself.

She parried the downward swipe of a vibro-scythe before using the Force to push the soldier away to give herself a momentary reprieve to think. How could all this be happening? She had prevented Ben’s fall, he was actively fighting against these invaders to protect the students who had died due to his actions in her original timeline. The soldier swung again, catching her on the shoulder and slicing her skin. Rey cursed as she fought with renewed vigor. She would eliminate these creatures who dared to threaten the home she had found here—after she was done with them, she would hunt down Snoke and his master, the many-eyed alien haunting her dreams.

The screech of a ship hull being ripped apart cut through the sounds of battle as one of the masters brought down an enemy fighter using only the Force. Rey stood in astonishment for only a moment, her lightsaber locked against the vibro-scythe. The ship crashed into the earth with a deafening groan as the duralloy crumpled in on itself before being consumed by a ball of flames.

Two other hooded acolytes and their muscled cronies had noticed Rey and rushed over to aid their companion. She grit her teeth hard enough to give her a sudden headache as she concentrated on dispatching her first opponent before the others reached her. Calling on the Force to help her, she froze the soldier—her imperfect control over the Force evident when they simply seemed to move as though they were submerged in molasses. It was all she needed as she swung her saberstaff forward to bisect her enemy. His top half slid grotesquely off his lower half, landing with a heavy, splattering thud before his legs soon followed.

Rey knew she could not fight them all, her energy and control over the Force slipping away the longer she clung to them. The fire had been a clever distraction and means to weaken the senior Force sensitives at the Praxeum. She knew the masters would not have any issues facing these enemies, but none of them were by her side in that moment to help her. She thought of Kira, alone in this chaos, and wiped the sweat out of her face, steeling herself and strengthening her resolve.

Through the smoke, twin sabers ignited, one blue and the other white. For a moment, Rey thought it was Ahsoka, the Togruta was the only one who possessed a white saber, as far as Rey knew—but, the rational part of Rey’s mind reminded her that both of Ahsoka’s sabers were white. The Jedi cut down the acolytes and their soldiers in familiar movements, their large frame becoming clearer the closer they approached. He lumbered forward with the same hulking menace of Kylo Ren, except his ire was now aimed at the invaders. The dark anger shadowing his face made her stomach flip in a confusing mixture of excitement and dread.

“Ben,” she breathed when his outline became clear through the smoke after cutting down the last enemy. He held the second blade in a reverse grip, further underscoring the similarities to Ahsoka’s style.

He jogged forward and disengaged his sabers to draw her to him in a crushing hug.

“You’re all right,” he murmured into her hair. He pulled back, eyes roving over her to take stock of her new injuries. Rey’s gaze lingered on his new saber. Through the Force, she could feel Kylo’s kyber sing to her through their Bond. Despite the darkness, she could tell the hilt had been the third piece of her old staff that she’d discarded on the journey to Jedha. Her heart seemed to skip a beat. Ben carried on, oblivious to her roiling emotions. “Your room was trashed, there was blood—”

“I’m all right,” she whispered, holding up her hand for his inspection. He then frowned at the burn on her forearm and the cut on her shoulder still bleeding freely. “I can’t find Kira.”

He shook his head, a reassuring smile on his face. “I saw her with Master Omaall and other younglings.”

The flame of her conviction roared. “I need to go to her now—”

“Rey, I came to find you so you can get on a transport and leave the Praxeum.”

“They took down one of ours…”

He nodded grimly. “I saw…but you have to be on the next one.”

“Not without you and Kira,” Rey did not hesitate.

“I have to make sure the younglings and other Padawans are safe from these…creatures.”

“They’re here for y—” she swallowed the words, clutching at his arms and shaking her head. She couldn’t tell him now, like this, rushed revelations in the middle of chaos and death. He pressed his forehead against hers to help steady her.

“I’ll help you,” she echoed the words from her past, once whispered in a lift as she approached her doom. “Together we’ll clear these vermin from our home, and then we won’t need to run.”

“How touching,” a menacing voice mocked from behind them.

Ben and Rey ignited their sabers as they sprung apart, ready to attack the new threat.

Through the smoke a figure emerged—humanoid, though his face was obscured by a strange silver mask. His gloved hand reached for the weapon at his hip, twirling the cylinder between deft fingers before he thumbed over the ignition. A red plasma blade erupted from the emitter.

Rey was momentarily stunned and the man chuckled.

“My master told me you two would be formidable, but I admit—you don’t look like much,” he goaded, readying his saber before him in a stance she had never seen before.

“Snoke?” Rey ventured, eyes only on the stranger even as she saw Ben’s head turn to her in her periphery.

The stranger laughed mirthlessly at that. “You know much, Star-Daughter, but not enough to save what’s most precious to you.”

Her palms were sweaty and she struggled to maintain her grip on her saber, despite the overwhelming malice that seemed to roll off the stranger in her direction.

“Whatever you’re here for, you’ve already failed,” Ben spat, already moving forward, one saber aloft and the other guarding his side.

The man shrugged. “I would say, based on our body count, we’re doing very well—but they were just annoying little pests, in the way of our true prize.” When his eyeless helmet tilted in Rey’s direction, Ben sprang forward to attack.

Shaking off her momentary paralysis, Rey leapt into the fray, swinging her saberstaff at every weak point without mercy, easily finding openings and avoiding Ben in the crossfire. Where their first fight together had been against numerous enemies in a throne room slowly engulfed by fire, this singular enemy on the cold, smoke-filled field seemed to be much more menacing.

She felt fear trickle through the Force like an instrument whose delicate strings were being plucked too quickly and with too much strength. The fear of the younglings blending together until it was too difficult for Rey to discern any one sentient or even her own fear as she faced down this unknown threat.

The stranger moved with a loud rage and a dangerous unpredictability, but also with the co*cky confidence of a Sith. Many of his rough movements reminded Rey of Kylo. He suddenly splayed his gloved hand out before him and Rey was thrown back twenty feet, landing hard on her side, the wind stolen from her lungs. Dazed, she pushed herself up onto her (less) uninjured arm, blinking through the hazy smoke at the figures still locked in battle, their sabers clashing, plasma whining and screeching. The stranger leaned in close to Ben who suddenly stiffened before he growled in rage.

“Where is she!” Ben shouted, bearing down on the Sith with all his strength.

“Well, now if I told you, it wouldn’t be much of a game would it?” the stranger sneered.

Rey felt the taut string of fate in the Force tighten, ready to snap as Ben’s killing intent rose to the forefront.

“Ben!”

It was Luke, she realized when his presence in the Force seemed to wash away the darkness that had enshrouded her and the weight on her heart was lifted.

“Rey,” Tak whispered at her side, gently helping her to her feet. The other senior Padawans had arrived, battered and bruised but still standing and ready to take on the Sith stranger. They formed a ring around the pair to corner him.

“Nine against one doesn’t seem very fair, Jidai,” the stranger spat at Luke who advanced, face bathed in the emerald light of his saber. He tilted his helmet up. “Luckily, I don’t play fair either.”

The Force warned them too late as the cloaked ship above opened fire on the fields, scattering the Jedi and creating craters of fire and plumes of smoke as cover for the Sith to escape.

“Ben—wait!”

She heard Luke call out to his nephew and she could feel him through their Bond as he chased after the stranger, the distance between them rapidly becoming a yawning chasm. Tak had yanked her out of the blast zone and the pair took cover in the trees. Minutes later, the enemy ship having deeming its distraction long enough to cover the Sith’s escape, seemed to set its course for the cliff overlooking the lake.

Rey stumbled out from behind the tree cover. “Which way?” she yelled in Pela’s general direction, searching her Bond to try to follow Ben’s tracks.

“Follow me,” the weapons master choked out, coughing roughly to expel the phlegm in her lungs. “Padawans, on me!”

They dashed through the jungle as quickly as they could, fatigued from their own battles, wounds open and bleeding freely. Up close, Rey had realized that Pela herself was wounded, an alarming amount of blood covered the side of her face, obscuring the injury. The weapons master merely grit her teeth as she led her peers with quiet confidence over fallen trees and boulders in their path. The occasional charred plasma marks on the tree trunks their only indication of Ben’s presence and his failure to kill the Sith.

Master Skywalker had gone after them, Rey tried to calm herself with this fact, though she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread the Force was foisting upon her. She was missing something, but she had not yet realized what it was.

The ground began to incline subtly and Rey’s chest heaved with painful effort as they trekked through the hills. She was certain now that she had likely cracked a few ribs when the stranger had tossed her. Overhead, two transports rumbled past, engines whining as they climbed rapidly—they would hold, she knew, she and Jacen had worked on those ships. The senior Padawans paused their pursuit only long enough to watch with baited breath—until the ships broke through the atmosphere. The others let out noises of triumph and Rey felt a wave of relief wash over her as she watched the transports escape, hoping Kira was aboard one of them. They pushed on, renewed hope flaring inside them.

When the sounds of blaster fire and the screech of plasma reached their ears, she redoubled her efforts, pushing past Pela despite her warning to exercise caution. The weapons master was weakened and her grip on Rey’s tunic was not strong enough to keep her from running ahead. Quis kept pace, despite favoring his right leg, ready to defend or attack at Rey’s side.

Rey was momentarily stunned when she crested the ridge and saw six figures in black armor wielding red sabers of various styles as they kept Master Skywalker at bay. How could the Knights of Ren exist? Rey thought incredulously. She had—falsely—assumed that the senior Padawans had become the Knights in her own timeline, where Ben fell to the dark side. Yet here stood six menacing figures holding their own—barely—against a master Jedi, their only advantage being strength in numbers. Luke snarled as he parried and Force-pushed the dark Knights back to keep them from swarming him. A few seemed to hesitate when they spotted the senior Padawans, quickly realizing they would soon be outnumbered and outmatched.

Beyond the Knights of Ren, Rey could see Ben and the stranger locked in fierce battle, weaving between the crumbling seeing stones set into the cliffside. Behind them, the same ship from earlier docked on the cliff’s edge, engines primed and ready for takeoff, steam pooling beneath the ship.

“Rey!”

Her heart dropped into her stomach—there was no way…Kira was safe, Ben had told her she was with Master Omaall…away from this nightmare. She searched the chaos frantically but found no sign of her sister.

“Kira!”

“Ben! Rey! I’m here!”

There—the ship—still in her sleep tunic, her hair loose and mussed. An acolyte held Kira’s arm, yanking her roughly back up the ramp, even as she kicked and screamed against the cloaked figure.

“Kira!” Rey ran forward, heedless of the Knights of the Ren in her path. She didn’t even draw her saber, her eyes on her sister as she disappeared from view. No, no, no, no.

She narrowly escaped a saber to the gut when she felt the Force pull her backwards. “Let me go!” she snarled when she twisted to see Jacen and Lorrik, their hands outstretched to keep her in place.

In the Jedi’s distraction and disorganization, the Knights of Ren began to retreat, the ship’s gunner opening fire on the Jedi to keep them at bay. Luke held his ground and deflected the blasts with his saber while reaching out in the Force to keep the ship grounded. The spacecraft wobbled and tilted as it began to hover, fighting against Luke’s hold. The Knights of Ren quickly leapt onto the ramp as the pilot pivoted away from the cliff.

Only the stranger remained and Luke released his hold on the ship in order to sprint to his nephew’s aid. The gunner aimed for all of them, spraying the field indiscriminately with blaster fire to keep them back, narrowly avoiding Ben and the stranger who battled closer to the edge of the cliff.

“With me!” Luke called out to the other Padawans as he reached out once again towards the ship. Rey and the others combined their strength, concentrating on pulling the ship down. When the gunner let loose another reckless spray, Rey felt a sudden sharp pain in her side, crying out—at the same time as her dyad.

“Ben!” Luke’s voice broke as he watched his nephew stagger, his hold on the ship forgotten and it dipped beneath the cliff’s edge to escape their sight.

Rey’s heart was in her throat, her pain immense—until she realized it was not her pain, she hadn’t been hit.

Ben slumped forward, unlit sabers slipping out of his grip, and the stranger caught him—before pulling the both of them over the cliff’s edge.

“No!” The cry was ripped from her raw throat as she stumbled forward, only to be blown off her feet by the ship’s engines as it suddenly surfaced, ramp retreating and bay door lowering now that the stranger had come aboard with his prize.

The gunner covered their escape and it was all Rey could do to deflect the blasts as she staggered to her feet, her heart hollow and her mind numb. The ship flew low across the lake, away from the Praxeum and the defeated Jedi.

Distant booms drew their attention to the edge of the cliff where their view of the Praxeum was uninhibited. Four enemy ships opened fire on the ancient stone building, unleashing their payload of torpedos and blasters with unrelenting accuracy as they targeted the supports and foundation.

“A distraction, it was all just to get us away from the Praxeum!” Jacen clutched at his hair, tears in his eyes as he took in the destruction of the school, the stones groaning as they crumbled and burst beneath the blasts. Rey thought she could taste the ash of the flames from here. The screams had died out by the time they crested the ridge, but Rey was not sure if she should feel relief or dread at that fact. She could only hope there had not been any students left hiding in the school.

Luke turned to face the group, his expression shifting from stricken to stoic determination between breaths, his lightsaber in hand. “All of you, kneel.” His voice was rough and his eyes shined with unshed tears.

The senior Padawans hesitated for only a heartbeat before dropping to one knee, a few wobbling in exhaustion. When Luke looked to Rey, she was taken aback to realize that he had also been addressing her. She sunk slowly to her knee, the grass peaking out between the ruined stone foundation was damp against her skin.

He ignited his saber, casting a green glow over the assembled. “By the will of the Force, I dub you all Jedi Knights. Now rise.”

The solemnity hung between them as they stood once more.

“You all deserve a better knighting than this—a rushed ceremony with only a single master.”

Rey knew that Luke was as familiar with battlefield promotions as she, but the stricken faces of the students around her betrayed their inexperience. Were they at war? Rey wondered.

Luke carried on, squaring his shoulders. “But it’ll have to wait. Now go, defend your home, protect your family. Regroup in the old temple.”

The Jedi Knights rushed forward past Luke, heading towards the Praxeum with a fire that burned bright in the Force. Rey hooked her saberstaff onto her belt before kneeling to pick up Ben’s sabers. When she straightened, she turned her back on the school but Luke held her in place with the Force. She whirled around, teeth barred at his audacity. “Let me go! Kira and Ben—”

“You’ll never catch up to them on foot, come back with us—once we’ve secured the Padawans and the Praxeum we can go out in force—there is strength in numbers, Rey.” His voice was gentle and she could see the wet tear tracks along his cheeks, illuminated by the faint glow of the Praxeum on fire. Through the Force, she felt the raw grief that was tearing him apart, but on the surface the Jedi Master remained calm and steady. His hold of her through the Force dissipated but she didn’t run.

The Praxeum was gone, the students dead, she wanted to scream at him. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she thought she had changed things—she had been so sure.

This is not going to go the way you think, but Rey could only rage at the Force for reminding her.

“My sister—” she choked out before a sob constricted her throat.

“You think I don’t want to go after my nephew?” His voice was rough with emotion though his signature was shielded in the Force.

After a few heartbeats, Luke approached until he could lift her chin with his human hand. His cerulean eyes were bright even in the darkness, his signature now emanating soft waves of affirmation. Before she could protest further, he brought his forehead down until it gently touched hers, as Ben had done earlier. “The others at the Praxeum? They’re our family too, and right now they need us.”

Rey sobbed and wrapped her arms around Luke, Ben’s sabers clutched tightly in her hands, even as she released her anger and fear into the Force.

The heavy clouds that had been gathering over the Praxeum for hours finally broke and rain soaked the valley.

Chapter 16: The Muster

Chapter Text

Rey had fallen into a haze.

She and the senior Padawans—no, the Knights, she remembered—had worked through the night alongside the remaining masters, lifting the rubble with the Force and pulling bodies from the ruins of the Praxeum, both organic and mechanic as the poor protocol and maintenance droids had been caught up in the attack. Covered in sweat and ash, Rey could not stomach the work after finding the fourth youngling, their broken body still and void of life and the Force. Jacen had dismissed her with a blackened hand on her shoulder and a grim nod. There were too many, yet a dark part of her felt a small relief at every body that was not Kira’s. Every time the thought crept into her mind like an unwanted visitor, she would dig her nails against her arm in warning.

She could not look in Luke’s direction, worried that she might meet his eyes—their bright cerulean clouded with disappointment. Whenever she spotted him amongst the rubble, his sleeveless undershirt stained with dirt, sweat, and blood, she would veer off in the opposite direction. Rey avoided the other masters as well, a neutron star of guilt weighed upon her chest.

A cycle had barely passed, yet she felt as though eternity had opened up before her, the yawning chasm of nothingness separating her from Kira and Ben. The Bond between her and Ben was faint, but not severed, and she could feel his life force even now; while that gave her comfort, the knowledge that he would protect Kira with his life did not assuage her fears—she could not, would not, lose him again, not when he and Kira had filled the void in her heart left behind from her old life. She thought the Force would not be so cruel as to fling her back in time only to make her suffer the same heartbreak and loneliness again.

In the darkness of the ruined temple where the survivors had taken refuge, she sat on a salvaged blanket, contemplating her failure.

…weakness, folly, failure also…the greatest teacher, failure is…the same wizened voice echoed gently across the Force, but Rey didn’t want to hear platitudes of wisdom.

She bowed her head, her hair a curtain sweeping over her shoulder to shadow her face, the ends trailing across the back of her bandaged hand. She had once asked Ben if there were Alderaanian braids for every occasion and, when he realized she hadn’t been teasing him, he had smiled sheepishly and nodded before clarifying in a solemn tone that one did not braid one’s hair at a funeral. There had been many funerals at the Praxeum in the last cycle.

Thirty-two younglings, seventeen junior Padawans, and Masters Omaall, Tisar, and Hiveth had been wrapped in pale shrouds and burned in the Jedi tradition. Luke presided over the proceedings with a stony face half-hidden beneath the hood of his black cloak. Ahsoka, Ezra, Mursea, and Lorith flanked him, their hooded heads bowed as he read from ancient Jedi texts, commending the souls of the fallen into the vastness of the Force where they would live on.

This was her fault, Rey thought as her vision blurred the longer she stared into the flames of yet another pyre. They would not have died if she had prepared the masters for an attack on the Praxeum—she had been so certain…so arrogant. Now, fifty-two sentients were dead and twenty more had fallen into Sith hands, all because of her. Twenty-two, she amended—Ben and Kira were among the abductees. They were alive, for now, but at what cost? All her efforts to keep Ben from falling might be for naught if the enemy manage to bend him to their will, to break him until he bled like red kyber. She could not begin to think about what they would do to Kira. Rey shut her eyes, as though the meagre action could wash away her fears. She had whisked Kira away from Jakku in the hope that her life in this universe would be a better one, but in doing so she might have condemned her to a worse fate.

“There is no emotion, there is peace,” Luke’s rough voice broke through her dark thoughts. “There is no ignorance, there is knowledge,” he carried on as the other masters and the remaining students joined him. Many of the students were openly weeping, their voices rough as they joined in the hymn. “There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony.” Luke paused for a moment, as though fighting against the next verse. “There is no death…there is the Force.”

A part of Rey rebelled against his words—of course there is emotion and ignorance, passion and chaos; the galaxy could not exist without them. The survivors of the Praxeum attack—standing huddled together under the rain as they burned their dead, tears flowing freely with anger—were evidence of these elements that the Jedi would erase. There is death, Rey thought bitterly, and there is the Force. Everything was connected in a delicate dance without one overtaking the other, like a system of planets moving through space along their designated revolutions.

A balance.

Jacen appeared at her hiding place in the old temple hours later, a silent spectre whose steady presence seemed to draw Rey out of the fog of her mind. She looked up at him in confusion until he gestured for her to follow. Rey’s feet were heavy as she marched behind him, feeling as empty as a droid without a neural core processor. When they arrived at the open field containing the three ships and Luke’s X-wing they’d managed to salvage from the rubble, she was surprised to find the Knights standing around the transport.

“Great, we’re all here—let’s go,” Pela announced as she hoisted her pack onto her shoulder, the slight hitch in her movement the only indication of pain. The wrappings around the side of her face had not even been removed yet. All their wounds had been treated and dressed by the masters—the med droids had been too damaged to repair—and it had been clear that Ahsoka was the only one who had experience with field dressing. She had tried to lighten the mood with stories of the soldiers under her command, the clones, and all that she had learned from her battalion’s medic, Kix. There was a profound sadness in her blue eyes as she reminisced of her fallen men.

Rey had helped where she could, Force healing minor injuries, to Ahsoka’s surprise. The Togruta had hummed thoughtfully the first time she witness Rey’s ability and had chuckled softly when Rey slumped back off her haunches in exhaustion after a particularly challenging internal wound. “Just like Grogu,” she had mused, though Rey was unfamiliar with the name.

In the dead of night, as Rey looked around at the battered, but determined, Knights, she wondered if her Ben had felt the same grief over the loss of his friends in her original timeline.

“Wait,” Rey croaked, her throat dry from disuse and crying. “What’s happening?”

“We’re going after Kira and Ben,” Lorna explained, her tone flat and matter of fact as she tossed a paltry bag of supplies to Quis on the ramp.

“What?” Rey could not process the words, despite hearing them clearly in the silent field.

They were all still in their black mourning robes for kriff’s sake. The image of another dangerous group of knights clad in black rose to the forefront of her mind before she pushed it down to the deep recesses of her memory. There was little comfort to be gained from the knowledge that they were not doomed to become the Knights of Ren.

She was at a loss for words until she spotted BD-1 on Quis’s shoulder. He beeped optimistically.

“A rescue,” she repeated the droid’s words, almost as though saying them aloud would make her believe it.

Jacen put his hands on her shoulders, pushing her forward towards the ship. “Yup.”

“Why is BD here?” Rey’s voice was soft as her heart swelled with relief that the little droid had survived the attack.

“Might need a slicer for when we get to wherever we’re going, and BD’s the best,” Jacen explained succinctly, answering her question yet failing to elaborate on the details.

“But Master Skywalker said we were all on lockdown until New Republic forces arrive to escort us,” she protested weakly as a pack was pressed into her hands—at the back of her mind she wondered who had readied the supplies and when they’d had the time to do so. “Master Kestis is waiting for us to regroup on Bogano…”

Cal had ferried fifteen younglings in one transport to the uninhabited planet, and they had later received word that another ship piloted by a junior Padawan, Adro, had successfully arrived on Bogano as well, along with its cargo of six. So few…Rey had lamented once again that, if she had just worked harder on repairing more of the ships, more students could have survived. She knew for a fact that the ship Cal had taken still needed a major rewiring of its communication lines, a tangled mess of faulty or burnt wires. When Cal had managed to contact them—for the brief window he’d gotten the connection to work—Ezra had praised his skills. Tak later explained to Rey that Cal had been a scrapper on Bracca while he’d been in hiding and would have the knowledge for basic repairs on most of the old ships decommissioned after the fall of the Republic, though he was still limited without BD’s help.

“Master Skywalker has us on lockdown,” Rey repeated in a faraway voice that did not sound like her own.

Jacen chuckled, the sound of levity out of place in the solemnity that blanketed the ruins of the Praxeum. “You’ve known us long enough by now to realize we’re not very good at following orders.”

“Where are we even going?” Rey interrogated as she was pushed up the ramp.

“That’s for you to tell us,” Lorna said quietly into the night.

Rey glanced back at the old temple, a nervous excitement bubbling up in her chest. There was no way the masters would not sense them or their rebellious intentions. Jacen strode towards the co*ckpit while Rey was herded into the cargo bay.

“You’re connected to Ben—don’t deny it,” Lorna added when Rey opened her mouth to protest. “We have a ship, all we need is a heading.”

The ramp was raised behind them and the others looked at her expectantly.

The feeling tethering her to Ben tugged behind her navel and, before she could think, their destination tumbled past her lips, pushed to the forefront of her mind by the Force. “Coruscant.”

Finn could feel the wrongness of the moment as soon as they dropped out of hyperspace, the gentle blue and green curve of the planet looming in the viewport belied the truth of the tragedy.

“Buddy?” Poe prompted, a hand on his shoulder from across the aisle in the co*ckpit, noticing Finn’s discomfort. Finn wondered if he was especially astute, or if it was true that he might also be a Jedi—or maybe Finn had a terrible sabacc face.

“What is it?” Hera immediately picked up on Poe’s concern, though she did not turn as she maneuvered the Ghost into a descent.

“I-I’m not sure,” Finn admitted, shifting in his seat. “Something is wrong.” He waited for the usual taunts and jeers that usually accompanied his vague announcements, but none came.

The ship shuddered as it broke through the stratosphere before descending so rapidly that Finn gripped the straps running across his shoulders.

“Whatever happened is over—” Finn protested, desperate for the pilot to reduce her speed.

The old droid engaged its maglock as the ship swerved suddenly to the right, puttering a series of disgruntled beeps as it waved its clamp above its head in protest of the Twi’lek’s reckless flying.

“Are you sure?” she demanded, turning to face Finn—to his horror—though she was a skilled enough pilot that it seemed like it didn’t make a difference. She maneuvered the jagged spine of mountains with practiced ease—a path familiar from routine.

All he could do was nod, knuckles straining around the straps. Hera turned back around, her expression grim, yet determined.

Despite the wonders of faster-than-light travel, it didn’t matter, they were already too late. Finn could feel it, even while they were in hyperspace, the terror and gloom amplified as soon as they’d arrived. He had not been able to describe the feeling in hyperspace and thought it was his usual anxiety.

“It’ll be all right,” Poe mumbled, though Finn was unsure if he was reassuring himself or him and Hera. “It’ll be all right.”

Finn swallowed the thick lump of ‘feeling’ that had lodged in his throat as he nodded at Poe’s words, even as the Ghost cleared the clouds to reveal the smoking ruins of a vast complex below.

Things were worse than Finn feared when Syndulla relinquished control of the ship to Poe who gaped at her silently.

“Dameron,” Hera pressed as she unbuckled her restraints and left the co*ckpit on quick feet.

“Right,” Poe nodded, fumbling with his own buckles before leaping into the pilot’s seat. The droid beeped something low and quiet and Poe reassured it with a pat on its flat head. “Don’t worry Chop.”

Finn, accustomed to Poe’s flying, felt safe enough to unbuckle himself from his seat in favor of the co-pilot’s chair. “Is she gonna be okay?”

Poe hesitated before plastering a crooked smile across his face. “Hera? She’s tough as a pack of fyrnocks. She was dogfighting at Scarif and Yavin when she was pregnant with Jace…this? It’s nothin’. She’ll be fine.”

Finn didn’t need his strange ‘feelings’ to tell him that Poe was lying. “Right,” he said instead, eyeing the droid whose photoreceptor lens was trained on the entrance to the co*ckpit where the General had disappeared.

Poe flipped a few switches and tuned knobs until he was satisfied with the frequency. “Chopper, broadcast this message to General Organa.”

The droid did not immediately affirm the request and Poe did not push. The ruined complex below grew larger as they approached. Chopper beeped once and Poe nodded.

“General, it’s pretty bad out here. You probably heard through Luke but…the Praxeum is…rubble. We’re landing in a few minutes to assess the damage, but you better send out New Republic escorts and relief supplies for the…for whoever is left. Will update you on the situation from the ground. Dameron out.”

Finn felt a frenetic energy suddenly overtake him, setting his extremities alight with nervous anticipation. He felt as though he were in a dropship waiting for his turn to enter the fray—which was ridiculous, since it was clear that whatever attack had happened was over and whoever the attackers had been were now long gone. Still, he felt eager to help, despite his inexperience.

Poe noticed his anticipation and jerked his head back. “Why don’t you gear up in the cargo bay with Hera?” He flipped a switch that seemed to connect him to ship-wide comms. “Touching down in three.”

Finn wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers before heading off in the vague direction of the cargo bay. He found the Twi’lek holstering a blaster at her hip before looping the strap of a rifle over her shoulder. Finn wanted to tell her that the danger had passed and there was no need to arm herself, but he bit back the words—a General did not need advice from a lowly grunt who had never seen real battle.

She did not offer him any weapons or any words, her tattooed brows furrowed as she stomped towards the ramp. When Poe’s voice sounded over the comms again, she reached out and held onto a bar beside the ramp entrance to steady herself as the ship landed. Finn barely felt it and when her grip on the bar lingered a heartbeat too long, he looked away. She was a mother, steeling herself for the worst, she did not need someone staring at her at her most vulnerable.

When the ramp lowered, two sentients were waiting for them—a human male and a Togruta female. “Hera,” the woman spoke, her voice soft and melodic; Finn’s breath caught in his throat at the sound. He had long imagined what his mother’s voice would sound like and the waves of affirmation and comfort that seemed to emanate from the Togruta reminded him of her—the woman who had given him life, the one whose face and voice he could no longer remember; only impressions gleaned through his ‘feelings’.

“Where is he, Ahsoka?”

The man held up a hand reassuringly. “Jacen is fine, he’s just…not here right now.”

Chopper beeped angrily as he rolled down the ramp, waving his clamp at the man.

“My fault?” the man sputtered as the droid purposefully bumped into him as he followed Hera down the dirt path to what appeared to be an old temple made of stone. He’d only ever seen such buildings in training holos on how best to infiltrate and sweep such structures. It wasn’t in much better shape than the Praxeum, Finn thought.

“I need to talk to Skywalker,” Hera intoned, her voice strangely emotionless. When the man hesitated she turned her dispassionate gaze upon him. “Ezra, tell me where he is.”

He sighed and nodded his head towards the Praxeum ruins. “Hera I have to warn you he’s not…”

She had already brushed past him towards the ruined school, Chopper at her heels, his wheels leaving tracks in the soft soil. Ezra sighed before following them.

“Welcome young one,” Ahsoka said in the ensuing silence before Poe barreled down the ramp, his face grim as he took in the scene behind her. Finn realised the Togruta was speaking to him.

“Uh, hi.”

“I’m sorry you had to come all this way only to be turned back.”

Finn hesitated as he glanced around at the destruction before facing Ahsoka and her serene blue eyes. “I’d like to stay and help, if I can.”

The Togruta smiled and nodded.

“What’s the situation?” Poe asked as he fell into step with them. Ahsoka did not seem to be in a hurry, her hands clasped behind her back, though her gaze on Hera and Ezra was worried.

“There were heavy losses,” she spoke after they had cleared a large field filled with debris. “Cal and two ships made it to Bogano, but his comms are down and the array on the second transport was damaged in the escape.”

Poe nodded. “I’ll inform General Organa to send some people out his way.”

Finn listened with half an ear, distracted by the strangeness he was feeling that seemed to emanate from the rubble. He thought it might be weird Jedi stuff finally bubbling to the surface, but he pushed it back—now was not the time.

“The rest of the younglings and junior Padawans are secure in the old temple,” Ahsoka was saying as they crossed what was once a threshold into the Praxeum complex.

“Who did this?” Poe demanded, his voice breaking with barely-contained rage.

Ahsoka shook her head sadly. “We don’t know, it was all so sudden.”

A different ‘feeling’ tugged sharply in the back of Finn’s mind and he somehow knew she was lying. His gaze snapped back to her with a frown. The white markings above the Togruta’s eyes rose infinitesimally at his expression, but that was her only reaction. She carried on down the ruined hall to some kind of central chamber as Poe swore vengeance against the invaders.

“That is not the Jedi way,” she intoned sagely, though she did not seem to believe her own words. “We will bring justice to the dead, not wanton revenge and violence.”

Finn bristled against her words, though he was unsure as to why—it made sense from a tactical standpoint, if an enemy attacked, one must counterattack, otherwise the losses were meaningless. Worry began to creep up through his stomach as he began to question how he could reconcile his soldier’s upbringing with the apparent Jedi teachings.

As they rounded the corner, climbing over stone rubble, they heard an argument echoing in the central chamber. Finn easily spotted the green Twi’lek bathed in a beam of light that streamed down from the ruined ceiling. Beside her was the droid and the man she had called Ezra. In the shadows of the chamber was another figure Finn couldn’t quite distinguish.

“Where are the kids now?” Hera demanded, the leather of her jacket squeaking as she crossed her arms.

“They’re not children anymore,” Ezra mumbled. When the Twi’lek turned her silent rage on him, he stiffened as though slapped.

“Hera,” Ahsoka broke in gently, her voice strained, eyes flickering to the silent man who didn’t so much as twitch, despite the waves of fury that seemed to emanate off of Hera. Finn wondered if anyone else could feel it. The man kept his back to them as he gazed sightlessly out the window. “The…remaining younglings and junior Padawans were ferried to the temple on Bogano with Cal.”

“New Republic escorts will be with them soon,” Poe reported, confident.

“That’s not what I asked,” Hera hissed, her eyes boring a hole into the man’s back. “You promised my son would be safe here, Luke. My son! I was foolish to believe you when you can’t even keep your nephew out of harm’s way.”

“Hera—“ Ezra reached out but she stepped out of his reach.

“Where is my son?”

Ezra spoke again when it was clear Skywalker would not be participating in the conversation. “The only unaccounted students are the senior Padawans.”

“Knights,” Skywalker’s defeated voice interjected. When Ezra turned to him with a frown, he clarified. “I knighted them during the attack.”

Hera seethed, her nails cutting into her jacket sleeve. “Of course Jacen would answer a promotion with insubordination.”

Finn recalled Poe’s words and didn’t understand why Hera would still be upset. Wasn’t it good news her son was alive and well?

“They commandeered a ship in the night but we don’t know where they might’ve gone,” Ezra explained, hands on his hips, his shoulders drooping with apparent exhaustion.

“Did they take any droids?” Hera asked after a moment of thought, looking down at Chopper who immediately rolled forward with a determined beep.

“Maybe BD, we can’t seem to find him,” Ahsoka admitted.

Hera nodded at her droid who then raised a spinning antenna from his dome, broadcasting something into the far reaches of space.

“Whatever happened has happened,” Skywalker spoke, his voice gravelly from grief or lack of use—or maybe both, Finn realized.

He tried not to stare at the legendary war criminal when he turned to face the group. His blue eyes were striking as they took in the group, lingering on Finn for a moment. He tried not to fidget under his intense gaze. He did not seem like a killer, Finn thought—he looked like an ordinary man.

“The Knights have chosen their path, and we must trust in the Force to guide them,” Skywalker continued.

“I’ve heard that before, Luke, and it cost me everything once—I won’t let it happen again.” Hera turned on her heel and exited the chamber, leaping nimbly over the obstruction near the door.

Her droid turned to follow, beeping loudly and gesturing with his arm clamp before Ezra sighed and held out his hand, levitating the droid over the rubble.

Finn felt chills at the easy display of Jedi magic. Could he do that too?

Ezra scratched roughly at his cheek. “Well…that went as well as expected.”

“She has a point,” Ahsoka said neutrally, her gaze studiously avoiding Skywalker.

“I just wish they’d trusted one of us enough to go with them,” Ezra lamented, hands on his hips as his eyes swept across the chamber sightlessly.

The Jedi fell into silence before Poe cleared his throat. “Masters, we can help—the Ghost can ferry the rest of the students off-planet and get them somewhere safe…”

Finn could almost feel their skepticism and unspoken argument: if they weren’t safe here, where could they go? Dust particles caught the light as they swirled in the beams of light. The once-grand chamber a crumbling ruin, yet Finn could feel the life—and hope—that had once lingered here.

“There has to be something we can do to help,” Finn found himself saying into the silence. It caught Skywalker’s attention and he tried not to shrink under his gaze. The Jedi had concealed his hands in the sleeves of his robes, giving him the air of a penitent monk.

“Finn, right?” the Jedi intoned quietly. When Finn nodded he continued, “Rey had revealed to us that this new enemy—the First Order—has made it a habit of abducting children from across the galaxy and indoctrinating them into their ranks.”

Finn swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat at the mention of Rey—his best friend whom he’d forgotten—before nodding once again, unsure as to why Skywalker was repeating the information to him.

Skywalker shared a knowing look with Ahsoka and Ezra. “Sometimes including children that were Force sensitive.” The words hung in the air for a moment before a look of realization came over the others’ faces.

“You don’t believe Ben and Kira are with the other abducted younglings,” Ezra surmised.

Skywalker shook his head. “Rey and the Knights will be headed for Ben and Kira, thanks to their Bond—and Hera will be pursuing them. Our goal must be to find the remaining younglings and to liberate them,” he paused and looked at Finn, a small, sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “and the rest of their troopers from First Order tyranny.”

Finn felt his chest constrict with what felt like joy. Poe let out a noise of excitement, latching onto Finn’s shoulder and shaking him slightly. “This is gonna need a lot of firepower, right?”

Skywalker merely flashed him a lazy grin, which only served to further thrill the pilot.

“And here I thought my ‘Fulcrum’ days were behind me,” Ahsoka said, a sly look in her eye as she crossed her arms. “I’ll reach out to my contacts and see what intel and resources we can gather.”

“Poe, you’ll coordinate with Hera and muster the fleet,” Skywalker announced as he strode towards the entrance of the chamber, cloak billowing behind him. “Leia and I will give out marching orders as soon as we know where we’re headed.”

Poe nodded, “Yes, General.” He seemed almost giddy as the word tumbled past his lips, barely restraining himself from snapping a salute.

Skywalker looked over his shoulder. “Finn, you’ll be with me.”

“Yes, sir!” Finn jolted to attention reflexively, his cheeks burning at the look Skywalker gave him. The Jedi turned and departed.

“Hey,” Poe caught Finn’s arm before he could hurry out. “Our paths will cross again, count on it.” His voice was soft, despite the hard look in his eye. He pulled Finn into a tight hug and he was frozen in shock for only a moment before he wrapped his arms around the pilot.

“Fly safe,” was all Finn could think to say to the man who had forever altered the course of his life.

Poe laughed as they pulled apart, an easy smile lighting up his face. “Always.”

The flurry of sudden activity breathed new life into the ruined complex, as the remaining Jedi gathered the surviving students onto New Republic transports. Help had arrived four hours after Finn had first set foot on the planet. The Jedi had used the time to prepare and gather what they could, the students rallying behind their mentors. As New Republic forces coordinated the relief efforts on the ground, squadrons of X-wings flew in formation around the Praxeum and over the jungle encompassing the hemisphere, S-foils in attack formation.

Finn helped with carrying boxes full of small cubes that had been salvaged from the rubble of the school. Ezra informed him they were holocrons—invaluable databases of knowledge that only Jedi could unlock—so Finn handled them with extra care and a tight grip around the box as he evaded the New Republic relief volunteers who bustled about with alarming speed. Finn prided himself on fulfilling orders with maximum efficiency, flitting from the old temple to the transports with gusto and pride. At least he wasn’t running caf orders up and down the length of a destroyer.

It was decided the remaining baby Jedi—Padawans, Finn remembered—would rendezvous with a Jedi teacher on Bogano. He could only wonder with dread how the First Order had located them on this uncharted planet—it wasn’t part of any database and indeed he didn’t even think it had a name. Bogano was also an uncharted planet he’d never heard of, yet that fact did not assuage his dread. New Republic Rangers and a detachment of air and ground support would stay with the displaced Jedi on Bogano for the foreseeable future, for their protection.

Finn had a difficult time reconciling what he’d been told about the Jedi—monstrous and magical beings who could destroy entire starships and planet-sized space stations using their minds—with what he could see about the broken group of sentients in front of him. Before he’d been spirited away by Poe, he would not have thought a single Jedi would need any kind of protection, let alone a group of them. But seeing them now, as they shuffled onto the transports with emergency relief packs filled with rations, blankets, and clothes that were not their own, he couldn’t help but think that a detachment of New Republic forces was not enough to keep them safe.

Hera and Poe had already departed, determined to track down Hera’s son and Rey along with the other missing Knights. They were confident they could track down the signal of the droid they’d taken with them. After they’d narrowed down the make and models of the ships that had survived the attack, they cross-referenced which one they had commandeered in order to put out a galaxy-wide search for it.

Skywalker had told Finn they would be the last to depart the planet, and Finn was eerily reminded of a captain whose duty was to ensure their crew’s survival, even at the cost of their own life if it meant they would go down with the ship. He stood one step behind Skywalker as they watched the New Republic ships depart. The blue and white astromech on Skywalker’s other side beeped and trilled and the Jedi chuckled but did not translate, so Finn could only hope the droid wasn’t saying anything mean about him.

When the last transport had taken off to join the cruiser in orbit above the planet, Skywalker’s shoulders drooped marginally. Finn pretended he hadn’t noticed and kept his silence as he waited by the X-wing in parade rest. The old Jedi moved towards the ruins of his school to a dirge only he could hear. At what appeared to have been the school’s entrance, he sank to his knees, head bowed.

The droid rolled forward on the uneven ground to stand vigil beside him. After a few minutes, Skywalker reached out and placed his gloved hand on the astromech’s dome.

“You’re right,” Skywalker replied when the droid let out a low whistle. They returned to Finn and the X-wing where the Jedi levitated the R2 unit into the droid port on the ship before shucking off his heavy robe. Beneath, he wore a simple black tunic and pants tucked into high black boots. Usually, First Order officers would be clad in black, but Finn knew from other troopers—who still remembered their homes and families—that some cultures across the galaxy would wear black when in mourning.

He pulled Poe’s jacket tighter around him, feeling that he was not dressed adequately to mourn the brothers and sisters he had never known.

Skywalker climbed the rail leading to the co*ckpit with an ease that spoke of years of piloting experience. “Now, I know this isn’t what you were expecting when you learned you’d be coming to the Praxeum.” He settled into the co*ckpit before looking at Finn expectantly.

Finn hurriedly ascended the rickety railing to take his place in the co-pilot’s seat behind Skywalker, trying to hide his trepidation as he secured his helmet. Since he wasn’t a pilot, he wasn’t well versed in ships, but he knew enough to see that Skywalker’s X-wing was practically an antique on its last legs.

Skywalker carried on. “It’s a little unconventional, but it’s not my first time teaching a Padawan while on the move,” he chuckled as he secured his helmet. “Primed and ready Artoo?” The droid beeped in what seemed like the affirmative and Skywalker nodded. “All right, set a course for Chandrila with a stopover in Takodana.” He turned slightly to address Finn, “Let’s see if we can’t rustle up some old smugglers to help the cause.”

For once, Finn did not have a bad ‘feeling’ about things.

Chapter 17: The Phantom

Chapter Text

Ben regained consciousness in slow waves, the first being sound—voices around him arguing and shouting—then touch, the rough hands of his captors dragging him across the grated flooring of a ship. Before he could try to open his eyes, his wound made itself known in sharp pulses of pain across his abdomen.

“—were you thinking? You’re lucky you hit him and not me.”

That’s right, he remembered, he’d been shot. Ben recognized the stranger’s voice, the man who had subdued him during the attack on the Praxeum. He felt a pang in his heart at the thought of the school and the younglings that he’d failed to save.

“Sorry, my Lord, next time—”

“‘Next time’? If you try a stunt like that again, I’ll feed you my lightsaber.”

The pair who had been dragging Ben slowed to a stop, their fear clear across the Force, despite his connection to it muddied by the pain.

“Take him to the med droid and get him patched up. Would hate for the Master to kill us all after going through all this trouble.”

“Yes, Lord Ren.”

The name seemed familiar, but Ben was in too much pain to concentrate.

There was a steady hum and the flickering white lights beyond the viewports indicated they were in hyperspace, though Ben did not know their destination. They were now light-years away from the Praxeum—he could feel his Bond with Rey stretching thin as the distance between them grew. He tried to reach out through the Force to steady himself and understand his surroundings, but he was only able to detect the other Force sensitives in the vicinity, their forms like vague shadows through curtains of rain.

Ben was dragged towards the ship’s medbay, his captors were rough as they jostled him upright, and the pain from his wound radiated up his spine and he soon lost consciousness again.

His mind was like an ocean, choppy waves cresting the shore of an island as he struggled to stay afloat. His thoughts were on Rey and Kira when he finally broke the surface, inhaling deeply as he came to in the waking world. He could still feel Rey nestled somewhere behind his heart—where she had always been, he had realized when she came into his life. Their Bond thrummed with every pulse, bruised from distance but not broken.

A faint, rhythmic beeping permeated the fog of his unnatural sleep and Ben recognized that it was a machine monitoring his vital signs. He struggled to open his eyes even a fraction against the harsh white lights of the medbay, groaning as he turned his face away.

A rough chuckle startled him before a familiar voice spoke, too loud in the serenity of the room. “DD, why don’t you lower the lights in here—his highness is having a hard time.”

Ben could only purse his dry, cracked lips in response to the stranger’s mocking tone. His throat was too parched to allow for any witty response—his mother would’ve been disappointed—so he opted for a hand gesture rude enough to impress his father. The cuffs around his wrists were maglocked to the bed, but the stranger’s scoff indicated that he’d seen Ben’s hand just fine.

“They teach you that in princeling school?”

It took Ben a few mumbled tries before he was able to whisper the words loud enough, “’m not a prince…”

“Ahhh, that’s right,” the man said with false humility, “Can’t be royalty of a planet without the planet can you? Otherwise it’s just all talk isn’t it?”

“Yeah, like you,” Ben shot back, finally able to force one eye open.

The stranger had removed his helmet at some point and was gazing down at Ben apathetically. He was a pale human, with a strangely pleasing face and unremarkable light brown hair that trailed down past his ears in soft waves. Ben’s eyes were drawn to the beauty mark at the corner of his jaw, delirium taking over as he struggled to process his words. The sedatives were stronger than Ben was accustomed to—he felt nauseous and itchy despite having lost feeling in his body from the chest down. He couldn’t feel the chill, but his quivering jaw indicated his body was cold.

“I’ve seen your ilk before, Your Highness, but they were worn down and broken, just like all the rest.” He sneered down his nose at Ben before rising to his full height, a shadow clad in swathes of black, helmet tucked under his arm. He turned to address the med droid just beyond Ben’s line of sight. “Flush his system, I want him on his feet to meet with my master within the hour.”

“Yes, Lord Ren," the tinny voice of the med droid responded.

Ben bit back a groan. In his youth, he had often accompanied his mother on philanthropic events, some of which had been to visit patients and ailing war veterans. One such visit had left the encounter seared into his memory. The med droids and doctors had explained that sometimes a risky procedure was necessary to prepare a patient undergoing multiple, unexpected surgeries. The patient had still been loaded up with meds and sedatives from their first procedure before the doctors had discovered a dangerous malady that required them to rush the patient back to the operating theater. The problem was that they could not continue to dose the patient with the same meds, so they had opted to rapidly flush the current meds from their system and start anew.

In short, it was a painful process and all Ben could do to prepare for the hell that awaited him was to brace himself. It did not take him long to realize he was cut off from the Force, the cuffs around his wrists familiar artifacts, a similar pair that had once adorned Rey’s wrists. Her ability to overcome the suppressive cuffs planted the seed of confidence in his mind, but he knew he could not rely on the Force, and would be blind to the goings-on around him and any beings lurking in the shadows. He knew that, even after they flushed the sedatives and paralytics from his system, he still would not be able to fight at his peak.

He had to remember Uncle Luke’s teachings and bide his time and be patient—if not for his sake then for Kira’s. He had to rescue Rey’s sister, wherever she was being held, and escape as soon as the opportunity arose.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ll be up for a meeting with the supreme Sith overlord,” Ben bit out after yet another round of retching into the plastoid bowl the med droid held beneath his chin. “I haven’t even done my hair.”

The droid merely misted his lips with bacta spray before turning away.

Apparently, the enemy did not program sarcasm or any personality into their droids. It was a shame, R2 would have engaged him in witty repartee before shock-zapping him out of the medbay.

His captors had not bothered to give him a change of clothes, or even shoes, despite his complaint that the floor was cold. His mother had always taught him the importance and power of one’s appearance and the hidden language one could speak with items of clothing—from style to cut to color, not to mention accessories and hairstyles. In this moment, Ben had none of the trappings that that life of privilege afforded him, but he was not just the son of a princess-senator-general—he was also a Jedi—and he had learned from Uncle Luke the power that one could exude when wearing threadbare robes.

Two figures clad in black armor arrived to escort him. Ben took note of the conspicuous sabers at their hip. But they were no Jedi. It was easy to hide his sneer—he’d learned from the best, and adopting a look of calm apathy was as natural to him as breathing.

With the Force-dampening cuffs still secured tightly around his wrists, he could not hope to manipulate his captors into releasing him or call on the Force to aid him in an escape. He still felt weak, stumbling forward on legs still tingling with the aftereffects of the paralytic. With every step, his dirty and torn tunic brushed softly against the bacta patch wrapped securely around his stomach, reminding him that he was also at a physical disadvantage.

The would-be Sith did not speak, though they crowded in close behind Ben to herd him where they wanted him to go. Their gloved hands did not leave their sabers, and Ben scoffed at their apparent trepidation. That earned him a fist to his kidney and a rough, “Keep moving, scum!”

Ben was escorted down jagged black stone corridors, seemingly carved out of a mountain and the cold indicated they were deep beneath the earth—fitting for creatures that scurried in the dark, Ben thought dryly. The only sources of light were phosphorescent stones and gems cut out at uneven intervals. It was jarring after the sterile modernity of the medbay. The rest of this facility reminded Ben of the old Jedi temples he used to visit with Uncle Luke while they were training, but there was something ominous here that clung to the air. An ancient power seemed to permeate the foundations of this dark place, resonating through the stone across time. Ben couldn’t tell if the chill was from the damp underground or the side effects of his post-op flush.

The halls were empty and with his connection to the Force muted, he could not sense other sentients in the vicinity. When they turned the corner, he spotted the man whom the others called Ren. The same name Rey had thrown at Ben when they had first met. He couldn’t help but wonder if she knew this man and how. Now that he was lucid, he studied the man’s features carefully. A small, petty part of Ben balked against the idea that they were similar enough that Rey could mistake Ben for the stranger if she had encountered him in the past. Ben was much taller, for one thing.

The man smirked as he took in Ben’s disheveled appearance. “Are you ready to face my master’s judgement, Jedi?”

Ben shrugged. “If I say no, will you let me leave?”

Lord Ren shoved him roughly through an open doorway into a massive cavern. It seemed as though a battle might have taken place here in eons past—numerous weapons and discarded armor were strewn about, though Ren navigated the maze with ease. The darker shadows of the cavern were home to the skeletons of countless sentients.

They came to a stop in the center where a strange carving was engraved beneath Ben’s feet, though it was too dark to make out the details. Before him sat an empty colossal throne, carved into the rock.

On either side of the throne sat a giant hound, taller than Ben even while seated, their eyes glowing red like rubies cut between the stone. They growled at Ben, triple rows of razor sharp teeth gleaming in the darkness. Between their long claws and horns, there were spots of red wetness from a fresh kill. He had read about them in ancient Jedi texts—Tuk’ata, beasts corrupted by Sith alchemy. Ben doubted even Ezra would be able to tame these hounds.

There was a stifling presence in the chamber, but Ben could not find its source until the wall beside the throne shifted and moved with a fluidity that made the hairs on Ben’s arms stand on end. The air left his lungs as he gazed upon the six-eyed creature from Rey’s nightmares, the phantom that haunted them both.

For all his inherited bravado, Ben couldn’t help the trepidation that gripped him like a vice, causing him to take a step back.

It did not look his way as it headed for its throne, its body gliding forward with a grace that belied its size, its muscles and sinew taut beneath grey skin, black cloak trailing across the cavern floor, dislodging and dragging bones in its wake.

“My Lord,” Ren spoke, his voice echoing in the chamber, he placed his fist over his heart, bowing his head. “I bring before you Ben Solo—”

“Solo-Organa,” Ben corrected, earning him a glare before the other man carried on.

“Proof that even the spawn of a criminal smuggler can be strong in the Force.”

“Uh, war general, former smu—” The movement in front of him stole the words from his lips.

The creature, settled on its throne, tilted its head as it gazed down at the humans apathetically. It hummed, the sound like a rockslide rumbling downhill. “You have done well, my apprentice.” It did not speak in Palpatine’s voice nor his grandfather’s, to Ben’s shock. The alien’s voice was ancient and storied.

“You will be rewarded for bringing me the son of the last Princess of Alderaan…”

“General, Senator…” Ben corrected habitually.

Ren dug his saber against his cheek. The emitter was sharp and cut his skin easily. “One more interruption…I dare you,” he whispered savagely in his ear.

The alien carried on, unaware or uncaring of the threats of bodily harm Ben faced. “At last you stand before me…grandson of Darth Vader.”

“Bail Organa, actually.” Kriff, why couldn’t he karking shut up? His palms were sweaty, despite how steady his voice was.

It was hard to tell if the alien was amused—or if it could feel any emotion at all—but Ren did not skewer him with his saber so he must have allowed the insubordination.

Rather than reprimand him, the alien beckoned someone forward with a wave of its massive hand. Ben’s heart leapt into his throat when he saw cloaked guards materialize from the shadows, dragging Kira between them. She was still in her sleep tunic, her hair tussled and tangled from the Praxeum attack, her bare ankles dirty. She was too far away for him to assess if she was injured.

She struggled against them, kicking and screeching until she was in the alien’s grasp—two of its spindly fingers were large enough to wrap around her entire body. The Sith hounds growled and barked when Ben made to lunge forward before Ren pressed his unlit saber against his back in warning. He shoved Ben down onto his knees where restraints shot up around his legs and wrists, controlled by the Force—but it was not the Force as he knew it—Ben wanted to push back against the sickly feeling wrapping around him and suffocating the cavern. It overpowered even the dampening cuffs and seemed to fill his every pore and left him feeling nauseated. This was the dark side—he couldn’t understand how any Force sensitive would willingly subject themselves to this.

The alien ignored Ben. “Now, my dear, tell me: what you will do with all that fire simmering beneath the surface?” He brought his other hand up to stroke Kira’s cheek, easily avoiding her teeth as she lunged to bite him with a feral snarl.

Were it not for his restraints, Ben would have done the same, his anger ringing out in the Force. How dare this creature touch her? He would rip him limb from limb before feeding him his own fingers.

The hounds growled, snapping at her feet when she lunged to bite and claw at the alien again.

The creature chuckled darkly, clearly disregarding Kira as any sort of threat.

“I’ll never do anything for you and my sister and Ben will kill you!”

The thought of Rey filled his chest with a burst of warmth—though he was not as naive as Kira. With him all but cut off from the Force and Kira’s connection not yet fully awakened, he wasn’t sure Rey or his Uncle would be able to find them—wherever they were.

“Oh but you are a precious piece of kyber,” the alien breathed, its six fathomless black eyes half-lidded as they regarded Kira. “Though even the strongest crystals crack, given the right pressures.”

“I’ll do what you ask, just leave her out of it,” Ben’s words were acquiescent but his tone and stance remained defiant and defensive.

“It is not your cooperation I require,” the alien sneered and Ben felt his heart stutter at his meaning. “Now, woyunoks, observe what happens if you defy me.” He spun her around so she faced Ben, Kira still caught in the cage of his fingers. He nodded at Ren looming behind Ben who ignited his red saber.

“Kira—” Ben reached out, but before he could reassure her, the saber came down in one smooth arc, severing his hand from his body. For a moment, all Ben could do was stare at the cauterized wound uncomprehendingly, his brain attempting to alert his body that it was now missing something and that he should feel immense pain. He only felt numb. Vaguely, he wondered if this was how Uncle Luke felt when Vader had done the same to him.

“No!” Kira’s anguished cry echoed throughout the chamber and broke through his haze, heavy tears streaming down her face. A wave seemed to wash over him as a power emanated from Kira in bursts strong enough to knock back the Sith hounds and stagger Ren beside him. It was as if she had summoned a storm of power to push back against their enemies.

The alien chuckled darkly. “She has finally awakened.” He seemed pleased by this, but Ben’s only concern was for Kira.

“It’s…okay…” Ben murmured, loud enough for her to hear. His temples were pounding in time with his heartbeat. “No matter what he does, don’t give in, sweetheart.”

“Humans are predictable, Jedi even more so,” the alien drawled, never once releasing his hold on Kira.

“You don’t need her, you have me…” Ben swayed and would have fallen were he not already on his knees. He sat back against his feet for some semblance of balance. His right hand—his stump—began to tingle as his brain slowly came to the same realization his eyes had, the wound throbbing as blood rushed to a dead-end.

“Such arrogance,” the alien sniffed. “I require the dyad, boy.”

Ben laughed then, earning him a fist to his jaw from Ren. He spit out the blood from his split cheek. “You’ve already failed then. Can’t do much with only half a dyad.” Ben didn’t know if what he was saying was true, banking on his father’s bravado to see him through an impossible scrape.

The alien’s lips pulled back in an approximation of a smile, its teeth as long as Kira was tall, sharp and yellowed with age. “I do have both halves of the dyad.” His six eyes fell on the sobbing girl before him.

Ben struggled to sit up off his feet—no, this creature was mistaken, he was a dyad with Rey. One couldn’t be a dyad with the other’s sibling…right? The burning pain from his wrist had reached his shoulder, like flames licking up his arm, cutting off all rational thought. He groaned and grit his teeth against the pain, wishing that they hadn’t flushed the sedatives and paralytics from his system.

“A little earlier in her life than the Force had planned, still untrained, though I must applaud the woman for presenting her younger self for me to mould.”

“What?” Ben’s vision began to blur. Kira struggled against the alien’s grip, her blunted nails scraping against the grey fingers around her torso.

“I see Skywalker is still keeping secrets from you my boy. Fear not, I shall train you well and never harbor lies.”

No, he had spoken with Luke, there were no secrets between them…not anymore.

“Kira is not the other half of my dyad,” Ben tried again, focusing his thoughts on the present, on persuading this creature that it did not need her. “It doesn’t transfer between siblings that’s not…that’s not how the Force works.”

The alien released Kira who immediately ran to Ben, wrapping her skinny arms around him, sobbing against his neck. He pressed his forehead to hers, blinking back the pain as she jostled him.

“Foolish boy, you presume to lecture me about the nature of the Force?”

“Who are you?” Ben managed to ground out.

“I am Tor Valum.” The creature’s voice was like an ancient stone dragging across the edge of a cliff, full of malice and eons of experience. Ben felt it in his bones, a deep and irrevocable truth in his claim, the Force reverberating around them in a cold shiver down his back.

Darth Plagueis’s master sat before him.

“You’re…supposed to be dead—thousands of years ago?” Ben could hear himself, half his words lost to his pain as they tumbled past his lips, but Tor Valum merely chuckled at that.

“You are no stranger to anomalies of time and space, life and death—your very own dyad stands beside you…and apart.”

Ben frowned at the cryptic words, suddenly feeling like he was talking to Luke who enjoyed being obtuse and speaking in riddles to get a rise out of his nephew—but this creature reveled in inflicting true pain.

Valum sighed as he rose and approached them, his frame towering over them as he stood taller than any being Ben had ever known. Ben tried to keep Kira behind him, but she would not be moved from his side. “The girl beside you and the woman who has abandoned you both to this fate are one and the same.”

He wanted to protest that Rey had not abandoned them, but Ben struggled to remain conscious as he looked at Kira with unbridled confusion—what was Valum saying? That Kira and Rey were…the same person?

It’s not true, his mind raged. “That’s impossible,” he murmured in protest, despite the Force never wavering around the Sith lord’s words.

Tor Valum chuckled deeply, the sound like a rockslide as it echoed in his ears.

“Dzworokka yun; nyâshqûwai, nwiqûwai. Wotok tsawakmidwanottoi, yuntok hyarutmidwanottoi,” the Sith lord chanted and Ben grit his teeth against the dark speech as it penetrated deep past his weakened shields. Kira clutched him more tightly, feeling the effects of the Sith language as deeply as he had. “You shall both rise together in powerful darkness and strike down the Jedi…and any who would stand in our way.”

No, Ben wanted to protest, but his lips were numb as the pain in his wrist crescendoed to an unbearable pitch. It was too much—all too much. The sweet embrace of unconsciousness soon engulfed him, his only anchor to reality were Kira’s sobs and her iron grip on his one good arm.

He dreamt of soft hands and whispered words; of the water lapping gently against the meditation stone circle; of a planet brimming with life and thrumming with the Force; of hazel eyes gazing at him with something akin to love. He dreamt of Rey.

Ben…

He awoke once again in the medbay, though this time he could feel the warmth of a small body curled against him. When he could finally open eyes, his gaze was drawn to Kira sleeping fitfully at his side. Her brow was furrowed and his tunic was bunched beneath her clenched fist. He did not wake her and all he could do was drift in and out of a dreamless sleep as his body naturally expunged the sedatives and paralytics.

It was almost two hours later that he could move his arms and legs again, though with that mobility came the daunting reality that he had been maimed and was now missing a hand. He could not bring himself to raise his right arm up for a good look at the damage. Instead, he wrapped his good arm tighter around Kira who stirred at the movement.

“Ben…” Her voice was hoarse, though he was unsure if it was because of her screaming or crying in his interim of unconsciousness.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he managed to croak, his own throat parched. He looked down at her and tried to smile.

She turned her face away. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled into his chest.

“’s not your fault,” he murmured as his left hand brushed through her hair. It needed a wash, he thought absently. Absurdly, Ben thought of how disappointed Kira would be now that he could no longer braid her hair.

“Yes it is—if I was stronger then I could’ve helped—”

“You are strong,” Ben interrupted firmly. “That’s why the enemy stole you away from the Praxeum.”

She sniffled, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. “Why did that man hurt you?” Her gaze lingered on his missing hand, but Ben kept his gaze firmly on the girl. He did not wish to look—he couldn’t look, not yet.

“In order to get what they want, some people will make others feel scared. But I don’t want you to worry about me. Never give in to what they want.”

Were it not for Kira, Ben would have an easy time provoking his captors into killing him. The enemy couldn’t use him for their plans if he were dead. But he couldn’t leave Kira to such a fate. He needed a clear head to plan how he could help Kira escape—anything that happened after would be the will of the Force.

“What if they capture my sister?” she whispered, her fear plain across her pale face.

Ben’s heart stuttered as he thought of Rey. “They won’t, she’s too smart to get caught in their net.” He could only hope she would not be foolhardy and rush into something dangerous. He had to trust that the other senior Padawans and his Uncle would keep her levelheaded.

Kira furrowed her brow so he pulled her closer. “She’s safe—I can feel it.”

“How do you know?”

“We’re connected through the Force and, just like how I can feel her, she can sense me and she knows we’re safe too.”

Looking closely now at Kira…there were minute details in her face that were an echo of Rey. Their eyes identical, though Kira’s were still soft and round with youth and hope. But it was impossible—it had to be a lie. Yet, a part of him knew Valum’s words were the truth. The question now was why—why had Rey refused to confide in him?

She had probably told Luke.

A dark pang of jealousy shot through his chest and he quickly focused on his breathing to center himself. He thought back on his lessons and tried to view the situation objectively—of course Luke would know, his Uncle was the strongest Force user in a generation. He would have sensed something was different about Rey, and the moment Kira arrived at the Praxeum would have solidified his speculations. That would have had a domino effect amongst the masters—surely Ezra would know from Luke and Ahsoka would follow the clues until she learned the truth; Cal would need only to touch Rey to glean the truth.

How many others had known before him?

The machine by his head monitoring his vitals beeped rapidly so he focused again to control his anger.

He looked down at Kira, now sleeping, albeit less fitfully than before. She had awakened her connection to the Force in Valum’s throne room, he had felt it wash over him—just as he could now feel the Bond between them. There could be no other explanation for the threads of the Force that now connected them as tightly as his Bond with Rey. The same, yet subtly different, the threads a mirror—identical but reversed.

He sighed deeply, dropping his head back against the stiff pillow. “Kriff.”