by Rae Carson
Rey reached for the wound. The vexis hissed, and she hesitated. But it didn’t attack. Heart in her throat, she stretched her hand forward, touched the serpent’s cool segments.
She was acting on pure instinct now. Rey closed her eyes. Reached for the Force.
Whenever she fought, or leapt through the jungles of Ajan Kloss, or even mind-tricked a stormtrooper into releasing her shackles, she channeled the Force, using it for her own advantage in some way. But this would call for a different technique, something she’d learned from the Jedi texts when she was mending Luke’s kyber crystal. This time, she would give.
A hum resonated in her chest as she gathered something inside her, offered it up to the serpent. Her own energy. Her own life. It was part of the Force, too, and she didn’t have to keep it all to herself.
She felt the vexis calming. Its pain was receding.
After a moment, she dared to open her eyes. What she saw made her gasp. The wound had closed.
The vexis lowered its head to hers. It was so huge. It could devour her in a single gulp. Its tongue flicked out, and it hissed, blowing her hair back—a kiss of sorts.
The snake uncoiled around her, leaving her free. It slithered away into the dark, forging a new path in the hard-packed sand as easily as if it were an eel swimming through water. When it disappeared, they could see a clear circle of sky.
Poe and Finn exchanged a look.
BB-8 rolled up to Rey, beeping softly.
“I just transferred a bit of life. Force energy, from me to him.”
BB-8 whirred.
“You would have done the same.”
“Well,” Finn said. “We’ve got our way out.” He started after the vexis. Chewie bent down to retrieve the dagger, stuffed it into his pack, then he followed Finn toward the light of day.
Rey wasn’t in a hurry to get to the surface, though. Her breath came fast, her very bones ached with weariness, and unaccountably, her hand stung. Healing the vexis had felt so normal and natural and right. But it had cost her.
* * *
—
The tunnel dumped them even closer to Ochi’s rusty freighter. It perched atop a huge rock platform, an island of stability in a sea of shifting mires. Rey and her friends climbed toward it.
“We cannot possibly fly in that old wreck!” C-3PO protested. He struggled to keep up over the jutting rocks. If they survived this, Rey would make sure he got an oil bath.
“We gotta keep moving,” Poe urged from just ahead. “Find someone who can translate that dagger…like, a helpful droid.”
“I suggest we return to the Millennium Falcon at once.” C-3PO said.
“They’ll be waiting at the Falcon,” Poe said.
“They’ll send us to the pits of Griq,” Finn said.
“And use you as a target droid,” Poe added.
“You both make excellent points at times,” C-3PO said.
Rey frowned. Finn and Poe were having a bit of fun with the droid, but it was true that the Falcon was probably in First Order hands by now. Chewie had locked it down tight, but the First Order would get past all their security precautions eventually. It was possible she’d never see her ship again.
A familiar presence hit her like a thunderclap, and she froze in place.
“Rey?” Finn turned to see what had made her pause.
His face was still dusty from their tour of the tunnels, and as usual his inherent kindness and concern were smeared all over his features. She would not allow him to be hurt by what was coming. She would protect her friend, even if it meant doing something she was pretty sure Leia wouldn’t approve of.
“I’ll be right behind you,” she said gently.
He frowned.
She gave a little push with the Force and added, “It’s okay.”
He was wordless as she handed over her haversack and quarterstaff—everything save the lightsaber hooked to her belt. She felt his eyes on her back as she descended the rocks and—avoiding the shifting mires this time—sprinted out onto a wide, flat stretch of desert.
Go, Finn, she thought, pushing a little harder with the Force.
She didn’t dare to look and see if he obeyed, because all her attention was drawn to a black mote on the horizon, flying fast and low, approaching her.
She squared her shoulders as the mote became a TIE fighter. His TIE fighter. She wasn’t sure how yet, but she would not give ground. She would protect her friends. At any cost.
* * *
—
Finn’s head was fuzzy. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the fact that Rey had told him to go, and he’d just left her in the desert without question. Something about that didn’t make sense.
Poe hit the freighter’s hatch release, and the access ramp descended. Finn followed Poe, Chewie, and the droids into a dark central hold choking in sand. Ochi hadn’t sealed this place up before being swallowed by the mires. He must have thought he’d be returning before long.
The hold was filled with junk, and the walls remained mostly open to the ship’s inner workings—Finn recognized emergency atmo tanks, a particle shield booster, along with endless wires and ducts and latches whose uses remained a mystery, though he’d bet Poe or Rey would know what they were. The interior was so messy it made the Falcon look almost tidy.
On a wall near the entrance to the sleeping quarters, a metal plaque identified the ship: BESTOON LEGACY.
“Let’s try waking up the converters,” Poe said, heading toward the cockpit, pushing cobwebs and junk out of the way.
“This ship is filthy!” C-3PO said, and Finn had to agree. Phasma would have made his entire unit scrub latrines with their toothbrushes if she’d ever caught them failing to lash down cargo or mop up dirt.
While Poe started hitting switches, Finn peered inside a cargo box. It was filled with blaster pistols. He looked around, noting several other boxes. Were they all filled with weapons?
Lights flickered on around him. The floor began to vibrate as the power plant cranked to life.
“Look at that,” Poe said.
Finally, some luck. But they couldn’t leave without Rey, who still hadn’t entered the ship.
“Where is she?” Finn asked no one in particular. He hurried to the cockpit viewport and searched the vast desert. There. A tiny, wind-whipped figure. She’d managed to travel quite a distance.
“Chewie,” Finn said, thinking of the Wookiee’s long stride and superior speed. “Tell Rey we gotta go.”
Chewie moaned assent, then headed out to fetch her. A moment later the Wookiee appeared in view of the viewport, but he promptly disappeared behind a rock formation on his way toward the desert floor and Rey.
* * *
—
Kylo Ren sensed her before he saw her. As he flew his TIE whisper along the flat desert, she was a bright presence in his mind, practically glowing with determination and ferocity. Something odd pulled at his chest. It was the same feeling he’d had when he’d faced his father for the last time, when he’d made the decision to kill Han Solo. You had to kill the past, yes, but you had to kill the light, too, to fully claim the darkness.
He finally understood. Han Solo was his past. But Rey was his light.
That’s why Kylo was still in agony. That’s why he couldn’t shake the memory of his father’s hand against his cheek, of those eyes full of love and understanding. Kylo hadn’t yet destroyed his light.
Maybe the Emperor was right. She needed to die. That, or he needed to kill the light in her.
And there she stood, barely a dot against the ocher sand, her shoulders squared, facing him down. The girl was terrified; he could sense it like he could sense the sweat dampening his gloves. Yet despite her terror, she was unwavering, ready and waiting.
She should be mindless with fear. She should be cowering. She sh
ould have turned to the dark when he gave her the chance. How could she resist? How dared she?
Rage turned his vision red. He didn’t care about the Emperor. He didn’t care about the Star Destroyer fleet. He just wanted his pain to end.
If Rey wanted to survive what came next, she would have to manifest more power than she ever had before. Show him who she was.
He watched as Rey unhooked her lightsaber and lit it.
Kylo Ren hit the throttle.
* * *
—
Rey saw the TIE approach, felt his intentions. Kylo Ren’s pain and killing rage were breathtaking.
But she knew just what to do now. Healing the vexis had exhausted her, but it had also opened up new avenues of the Force to her—something about both giving and taking, about a more perfect oneness than she’d understood before. She yearned to talk it over with Leia.
For now, though, she had no choice but to let the Force thrum in her blood, fill her limbs with readiness. She was terrified, yes, but she was also strangely calm. Luke had told her that fear leads to the dark side. But it turned out that terror and calm could coexist. Maybe this is what Leia had been trying to teach her.
She allowed the TIE to approach. Sensing it was the right time, she turned away, lowered herself into a fighting lunge.
Rey glanced back. He was close enough that she could see the shape of his helmet through the cockpit viewport.
* * *
—
Finn hated feeling useless as Poe flicked the controls, made adjustments. The rumbling floor beneath his feet steadied, and the clanking of the turbines smoothed into a steady hum. They had achieved flight readiness.
But Chewie had not returned with Rey.
“What the hell’s she doing?” Poe demanded. “Where is Chewie?”
Finn peered out the cockpit viewport. It was hard to make out details from here, but it seemed she was crouched, her lightsaber lit. He should be out there, helping her…
The strangest thing happened. In yearning to help her, in reaching for her, he sensed something. A danger. A presence. “It’s Ren,” he whispered.
Probably just a bad feeling…right?
Just in case, he put a hand to his holster to check his blaster and jogged down the ramp into the desert.
He headed for the outcropping Chewbacca had disappeared behind, but he stopped short and hunkered down when he heard footsteps. Slowly, carefully, he peered around the rock—and nearly gasped.
Chewie had been captured. Manacles circled his furry wrists. Tall figures with dark armor and strange weapons shoved him forward, toward a handful of stormtroopers and their transports. Malevolence radiated from the dark figures in waves; Finn felt like he was choking on it.
The Knights of Ren. They could be no one else. He should flee.
But within moments Chewie would be loaded onto a transport and taken away. Finn had no choice but to act now.
He drew his blaster, intending to charge forward, but he froze when a dozen more stormtroopers poured down the ramp in formation. Attacking them all at once would be suicide.
Finn would have to creep back to the Bestoon Legacy and come up with another plan. No, that wouldn’t work. The fact that an entire transport was here, along with the Knights of Ren and—if his feeling was correct—Kylo Ren himself, could only mean one thing. They were after Rey and her power.
Finn had to warn her.
* * *
—
The Bestoon Legacy was ready to take off, but now Poe was sitting alone in the cockpit without a crew. First Rey and Chewie, and now Finn was gone, too. Where the hell were—
He gasped. Rey had started to run, her lightsaber whipping beside her with each stride. A TIE was bearing down on her, flying so low that it kicked up clouds of sand. It would be on her in moments.
* * *
—
Rey sucked air as she sprinted. She would only pull this off with good speed and a lot of help from the Force, but her training with Leia was paying off. She was fit and her limbs were strong. Her lungs were capable. More important, her mind was ready.
She pressed forward, picking up more speed. The TIE was close now; its scream was bright in her ears.
Still not close enough. She reached out for the connection she shared with Kylo and felt his determination. She threw a wave of ferocity right back at him.
Her shoulder blades prickled as the ship bore down on her. Not just yet…a few strides more…now!
She leapt up and flipped backward, sweeping her legs in an aerial arc.
Below her, Kylo Ren craned his neck to track her flight.
She whipped her lightsaber down at the support pylon.
The TIE screamed past in a cloud of choking dust.
She landed neatly in the sand. Eyes narrowed, ready for anything, she watched the TIE start to wobble. She sensed Kylo’s frustration as he compensated at the controls. The support pylon buckled, and the left wing clipped the ground.
Out of control, the TIE tumbled, wings ripping off their struts. The remaining ball holding Kylo Ren rolled at an impossible speed, leaving a ditch in the sand. Finally it slammed into an embankment, where it lay still.
Rey turned off her lightsaber. She hoped he was dead. No, she didn’t. She hoped…she didn’t know what she hoped.
She hooked her lightsaber to her belt and headed toward Ochi’s freighter.
A figure appeared ahead, familiar in his blue pants and flight jacket. “Rey!” Finn screamed at her across the desert plain. “They got Chewie!”
A transport lifted into view, its drive thrusters already glowing blue.
Finn punched the air with his finger. “Chewie’s in there!”
No. No, no, no, no.
She’d been here before, standing helplessly as sand blasted her skin, watching a ship carry away someone she loved.
Where there had been calm, now there was only terror. It filled her mind, overflowed into pure, hot power. She reached out with the Force, imagined herself grabbing the transport, wrenching it back planetside.
It actually slowed. Wobbled in the air. Its engines began to whine.
Rey gritted her teeth. Sweat poured from her forehead. She would not let them take Chewie from her.
* * *
—
Kylo Ren yanked off his mask to get some fresh air. He was an idiot. His stomach roiled with this inevitable certainty as he gingerly stepped around the burning wreckage of his TIE. She had run like a frightened womp rat, and in his blind rage he had succumbed to the temptation, not pausing to consider that maybe she had a plan.
With this realization came another certainty, even more gut wrenching: He was relieved he hadn’t killed her.
Snoke had always encouraged him to pursue his impulses. They were a shortcut to the dark side—and unimaginable power. But his impulse to kill Rey had almost ruined everything he’d been planning.
Kylo didn’t know how to reconcile that. The path to the dark side lay in succumbing to one’s desires. But his deepest desire, the thing he wanted most, would require planning and patience. The Emperor had figured out how to embrace a plan so long suffering and painstakingly careful it boggled the mind—and he did it without being tempted by the light even a little.
There was a way. He just had to learn it.
Kylo sensed a tug in the Force as he stepped from billowing smoke into clear air. Far away, Rey stood in the sand, straining, her arm reaching toward—
A flying transport? And she was succeeding in slowing it down!
It didn’t matter what—or who—was inside that transport that made Rey desperate to prevent its escape. He was not going to let her have it.
He reached out, felt the massive machinery in his mind, yanked it toward himself.
* * *
—
&nb
sp; The transport almost jerked out of her grip, and she gasped at the familiar presence. Kylo, alive and well. Rey would not let him have Chewie. Chewie was hers.
She strained to regain control, and she felt the ship lurch in her direction, but then it whipped right back.
Rey tried to remember her training. Let the Force guide your actions, Leia would say. But thinking of Leia, her training, even for the briefest moment made her lose concentration, and the ship listed again in Kylo’s direction.
So Rey bore down with all the strength of her being. Blood screamed in her ears, and her heart was a massive drum in her chest. She drew on her rage at Kylo, at the First Order, even at Unkar Plutt. She drew on her terror for Chewie’s life, remembered what it felt like to watch Han Solo drop into the abyss at Starkiller base. She drew on pain too: the aching hollowness of an empty stomach, the bruised knuckles with no bacta to soothe them, the feel of grit in her molars after a windy day, the dagger-sharp silence of loneliness. Rey opened her mouth in a silent scream.
Raw power burst from her fingertips, arced toward the freighter. It was blue lightning, pure Force energy, brighter than a lightsaber, hotter than a sun. It wrapped its deadly, crooked fingers around the transport, which jerked sideways for the briefest instant and then exploded into a sickening fireball.
Rey stumbled back, gasping for air, as bits of wreckage rained down onto the desert plain. The transport—and everyone inside—reduced to nothingness.
She stared down at her hand in horror. Then at the bits of wreckage. Her stomach heaved, and finally she screamed, “Chewiiieeeeeeee!” as tears poured down her cheeks. What had she done?
A voice penetrated her haze of guilt-madness: “Rey!” It was Poe, calling to her. “They’re coming!”
He pointed toward the horizon, and she turned. Half a dozen First Order TIEs were quickly approaching.
“But Chewie…He…”
“I’m sorry!” Poe yelled. “But we have to go. Now!”