General Armitage Hux watched—from a safe distance—as Supreme Leader Kylo Ren and a squad of stormtroopers cut a swath of blood and destruction through the pathetic Mustafarian colonists. They battled through the gloomy woods of Corvax Fen, one of the few patches on this hellscape of a lava planet that was cool enough to support native growth, if you could call this "growth." Barren trees grew out of a noxious marsh, and the air was hazy with mist. The barbarian colonists were failing to put up a decent fight; their archaic halberds and broadswords were no match for the technical superiority of a good blaster, or even, Hux had to admit, a lightsaber.
Ren was a blunt instrument, a mindless dog, whose current obsession was putting all the First Order's plans behind schedule. The general was half tempted to wade into the fight himself to hurry things along—just so they could leave this awful planet. Or at least he would be half tempted if his skills were not better used elsewhere. Best if Ren did all the dirty work; Hux was too valuable to risk.
"He's almost beautiful to watch," mused Allegiant General Pryde, standing tall beside him. The older man had arrogant blue eyes and a high hairline that seemed immune to perspiration, even in a hell-climate like this. "Don't you think?"
Hux refused to gratify that with a response, because true beauty came from discipline, from order. So it was almost against his will that he found himself mesmerized as Ren met a barbarian's charge head-on, cloak flowing, mist swirling around him. The glow of his lightsaber occasionally snagged on his cheek scar, making it appear as though a crack of glowing lava slashed his face. It was like something out of a dream, or maybe a nightmare, as the Supreme Leader plunged his fiery crossguard into his attacker's abdomen, lifted him from the ground, and sent him toppling onto his back. Kylo Ren did not spare his fallen foe a single glance, simply rushed forward into the woods seeking his next kill.
But there was no one left. Corpses littered the ground, barely more than lumps of shadow in the gloom. The air smelled of ozone and scorched vegetation. All was eerily silent as Ren looked around, catching his breath. Even from a distance, Hux could sense his disappointment that the killing was over, that no outlet for his rage remained. Kylo Ren gathered himself and strode away into the woods, shoulders set with determination, lightsaber still ablaze. The mysterious object he had come for—dragged all of them across the galaxy for—was nearly within his grasp.
"He's gone mad," General Hux said, and the contempt in his voice was obvious even to his own ears. "Flames of rebellion burn across the galaxy, and Ren chases a ghost."
"No," Allegiant General Pryde responded, softly but firmly. "Exegol does exist and Leader Ren will answer to no one."
Hux narrowed his eyes. Ren would definitely answer to someone, someday. He just didn't realize it yet.
—
Kylo Ren showed mercy to nothing and no one, but he had a grudging appreciation for things that struggled to survive. Even though the nearest lava flow was many klicks away, it seemed as though the air ought to be too hot, too chemical, for life to truly thrive here. As they'd landed, Hux had proclaimed the planet a "desolate hellscape," and Kylo hadn't bothered to correct him. The truth was, Mustafar was teeming with life—all connected through the Force. Like those hapless cultists he'd just killed, who'd been obsessed with protecting Vader's legacy. Or this forest of twisted irontrees they endeavored to cultivate. Or even the extremophile organisms that swarmed the lava flows. All fragile but determined, mutilated but indomitable.
It was no wonder his grandfather has chosen this place for a home. Kylo strode through the trees, lightsaber still ignited. Malevolence lay ahead, along with a darkness that had nothing to do with the planet's day–night cycle. But that's not why he kept his weapon ready. He refused to put it away because for the briefest moment, as he was hacking away at Mustafarians, he had sensed her. Watching him. Now his guard was up, and it would stay up until he got what he came for.
By silent mutual agreement, the stormtroopers who'd accompanied him had declined to follow him through the woods, which suited him fine. He preferred to be alone for this.
A few more steps and the ground became soggy. The mist thickened. A small splash indicated that his presence had been noticed. Finally, the trees broke open onto a small lake with brackish water, bordered on all sides by forest and large black lumps like boulders, jutting out of the ground at odd angles. No, not boulders, he noted upon closer look, but rather fallen remnants of Darth Vader's castle.
An oily film slicked across the lake's still surface. Kylo turned off his lightsaber and hooked it to his belt. He waded into the shallow lake, soaking his boots and cloak. The water was warm, and the ground beneath the water a sludge that sucked at his feet. He ignored it all, reaching for a pyramidal object. It fit satisfyingly in his hand, heavy and hot, and he stared at it a moment, lost in its red glow. The sides were etched glass framed in deep-gray resin. The crimson light within seemed to pulse faintly. Ren had come a long way for this, and yet he hesitated, eyeing the pyramid with distrust.
Surely his grandfather would have made it harder than this? Those cultists were too easy to kill. Then again, he was Vader's heir. The object belonged to him. Now that he had it up close, the etchings in the glass clarified into patterns. Star charts. Alignment markers. Something stirred deep within him, suggesting ancient knowledge and power, and he felt a rush of triumph. It had all been worth it—diverting ships, sending out spies, tracing old records, enduring the smug disapproval of that idiot Hux—all to find this.
"It will guide you through the Unknown Regions," he heard a ghostly voice echo around him. "To the hidden world of Exegol. To the Sith Eternal."
It was the voice he heard in his visions. Kylo Ren wasted no more time. Dried blood made the skin of his face itch, and his boots and cloak were soggy with lake water, but instead of returning to his command ship, the Steadfast, he dismissed everyone back to their regular duties and jumped into his modified TIE whisper to make the next part of the journey alone.
No one protested.
He connected the pyramid to his navicomputer, attaching ports where indicated by the glass etchings. The nav interface lit up with new information, but it also blared a warning.
For these coordinates would take him beyond the Western Reaches into the Unknown Regions. Kylo overrode the warning and jumped his TIE to lightspeed. The stars turned to streams of matter.
The Unknown Regions remained uncharted because a chaotic web of anomalies had created a near-impenetrable barrier to exploration; only the most foolhardy or desperate ventured there—criminals, refugees, and, if the reports were true, remnants of the old Imperial fleet who had refused to accept New Republic rule. A few planets had been discovered, but their populations remained small, and their trade with the rest of the galaxy had been throttled by the navigational risk. The Sith and the Jedi had found paths through to even more dangerous, more hidden worlds—or so legends said—and the specific, carefully stepped coordinate jumps required to safely navigate the anomalies were among their most closely guarded secrets.
The trip would be worth the risk. Someone was out there, claiming to be the Sith Eternal, and Kylo could already sense ripples of doubt in the First Order. After all he'd done, after all he'd sacrificed to become Supreme Leader…who would dare to challenge him now?
But what filled him with absolutely incandescent rage was the thought that Snoke—his master, the one to guide him away from the duplicitous light, the one he'd looked up to above all others—has been someone's puppet all along. Kylo was done with masters. He would be no one's lackey. He would destroy whoever—whatever—he found in the Unknown Regions. No one would question his right to rule supreme.
And Vader had left him a guide, a compass.
The TIE bumped out of lightspeed into rough space; it felt as though he were flying through gravel. He double-checked the nav—the TIE was on course. He had to have faith that Vader's wayfinder would steer him true. That, and the Force. Kylo Ren drew on all the rage and frustration of the last few days and gripped the controls in cold focus. Once his flight steadied, he sent his TIE to the next set of coordinates.
This time, instead of the streaming stars of hyperspace, his ship entered a glowing red mesh of hexes. He'd heard tales of the Red Honeycomb Zone of exotic space—some called it the Blood Net, others called it the Ship Eater—but until now he hadn't been sure he believed any of them. It was one of the only known safe passages through the anomalies of the Unknown Regions, but it seemed malevolent and angry, and the sensor indicators on his console flashed wildly, unsure what to make of it.
Most pilots, when traveling faster-than-light for a while, used the time to stretch, do some interior checks and maintenance, or even sleep. But Kylo didn't dare let his guard down. He had to be ready for anything. Besides, while tracking down Vader's wayfinder, he'd heard whispers that time and distance became near meaningless in exotic space. He had no idea exactly when he'd revert to realspace or what would be waiting for him when he did.
It seemed as though only a short time had passed before his TIE lurched out of red zone and slowed. Kylo was prepared to attack or evade, but found himself on a perfectly normal approach, the planet Exegol looming before him. From space, it seemed dead and gray, shrouded in massive dark storm systems. As he neared, the clouds burst with jagged light. It would be a rough ride down.
—
Kylo Ren strode away from his TIE whisper, across boundless cracked ground. The entry had been difficult, but the landing easy. The planet's entire surface was a landing pad—flat and empty. Reaching out with the Force, he could detect a moderate amount of life nearby—most of it deep below the surface—but this planet made Mustafar seem like a lush garden by comparison. The air was hazy and hot and dry, and lightning split the sky in unending rage. His boot knocked over a small silica tree, where lightning had turned grit and sand into a branching tumor of glass. He spared a concerned thought for his TIE, exposed against the barren landscape, and realized he had to get undercover fast.
The planet's atmosphere didn't afford much visibility, so he didn't see the citadel until he was almost upon it; it hovered over the barren ground, a brutal edifice of stone towering high enough that its peak was nearly lost in haze. He ignited his lightsaber. Kylo didn't need to see the entrance to know where it was, because he could feel it beckoning him, welcoming him. It was not the soft, warm welcoming of home or safety but rather one of conquest and need. His skin prickled. The Force was strong here, but it was different. Twisted, rotten, as though filtered through a miasma of decay. He reminded himself that new things grew out of old decay.
Lightning crackled in the gap between ground and edifice. The space was just high enough for him to stride comfortably. He felt the weight of the massive structure as he walked beneath, trusting it to not fall and crush him. It took power to create something so awe inspiring. That power would be his. Kylo's footsteps echoed, and the bare stone ceiling seemed reddish in the light of his blade. Something clanged, like a gigantic gear moving into place. Suddenly the area he stood upon separated itself from the floor, becoming a floating disk that lowered him into the depths of the citadel.
As he descended, he found himself captivated by the wall before him, which was carved with colossal stone faces, all rendered in exquisite detail. Massive iron chains trailed down from the ceiling, as if mooring the statues in place. Something dark and inescapable moved within him, and he understood that he was viewing a monument. So much history and memory all in one place, and he was caught between reverence and rage. This was his inheritance; he knew it like he knew the feel of a lightsaber in his grip. But monuments preserved the past, and if he had learned anything recently it was that the past needed to die. The disk came to a gentle halt in a vast space that brought to mind a cathedral. The stone faces were high above him now, crowning enormous statues of ancient lords. At his feet, dark chasms jagged through the floor, and Kylo could not gauge their depths. The chasms crackled with lightning, searing his vision, as though a bit of the planet's sky had been trapped within its crust.
He was not alone. Figures moved in the shadows, slight and stooped. Not dangerous—not yet, anyway—as they went about whatever work they were doing. They wore black, threadbare robes, and bandages shrouded their faces.
"At last," came a woman's voice, and Ren whirled, seeking its source. It was both alluring and commanding. "Snoke trained you well," the voice said. Kylo knew that voice. He'd heard it before.
"I killed Snoke," Kylo said. "I'll kill you."
"My boy, I made Snoke. I have been every voice you have ever heard inside your head." She spoke slowly, deliberately, her voice morphing, becoming first Snoke, then Vader, before settling on her own. "I have been your Master all along."
A figure began to materialize before him, still cloaked in shadow, silhouetted against the angry lightning flashes of the chasms around them. It moved oddly, as though it was...a ghost. A flash of lightning illuminated a huge glass tank, containing three creatures, liquid life being pumped into them through mechanical umbilicals. They were all the same creature, he realized with a start, with wrinkled skin and an oversized bald head. They were all Snoke.
Snoke came from this place. Yet Kylo's former teacher had told him nothing about it. What else had he kept from him?
When Kylo didn't respond, the robed spirit added, "Do you know who I am?" She leaned forward.
Kylo's grip on his lightsaber tightened. He said, "I know you built the First Order. That I will not be your servant as Snoke was."
"Snoke." The voice filled with glee. "He was nothing but your test. You did well to destroy him."
Kylo Ren was Supreme Leader of the First Order. Before that, he'd been the leader of the Knights of Ren. Before that, he'd been the presumptive heir to the Skywalker legacy and the son of a princess. So he'd been subjected to false flattery and sycophantic compliments his whole life, and he refused to give them power. Then, and especially now. "Who are you to speak of me?"
The voice deepened, shaking with barely restrained power. "I am the one who led you here. Who has foreseen your destiny…"
The figure moved closer. She looked frail, her long gray hair framed her unnaturally pale face. Kylo had seen her before, while studying the Sith, and again while researching clues about Vader's wayfinder. Abeloth. But the Force itself belied any perception of frailty because a cloud of darkness and need swelled from her, along with power like Kylo had never before encountered. It was exhilarating.
"The First Order was just a beginning," the spirit said. "I will give you so much more."
He raised the tip of his lightsaber to the spirit's face, which brought clarity to her features. The spirit's eyes were filmed over and milky.
"What could you give me?" Kylo asked.
"Everything," Abeloth said. "A New Empire."
The spirit raised her hand; Kylo sensed her drawing on the Force, but before he could react, his surroundings disappeared as if into a fog, and a vision filled their place.
A black void, like space without stars. Then lightning flashed, revealing cracked ground. The barren landscape shook, then shattered. A mountain erupted onto the surface. Dirt and chunks of soil fell away, revealing a metal hull, striped with red. Around it, more mountains broke the surface, resolving into massive Star Destroyers, half again the size of the Destroyers from the days of the Empire.
More ships rose—and more and more—until hundreds hovered in the atmosphere.
"For a generation, my disciples have labored," Abeloth said.
Kylo's heart was racing. So much power. A starfield of Destroyers. The largest fleet the galaxy had ever known. The rumors were all true. Exegol was a world populated by the Sith cult, true believers in the dark side of the Force, devoting their lives to this.
"They've built a fleet that will bring an end to the galactic rebellion once and for all."
The vision was whisked away, replaced by hundreds of stormtroopers, shining in crimson armor. Thunderous marching filled his ears, and with it came the barest hint of a scent he recognized…blaster-seared blood.
With tremendous effort, Kylo thrust the vision aside. Everything he'd seen would be his. But he was no fool. Nothing was really that easy.
No Sith willingly gave up a throne.
"The might of the Final Order will soon be ready," she continued, her voice uncannily compelling. "It will be yours if you do as I ask. Kill the girl." Kylo had no doubt as to whom Abeloth was referring. "End the Jedi. And become what your grandfather Vader could not. You will rule all the galaxy as the new Emperor."
Kylo sensed deception in her words, but also truth. "If I don't?" he said in challenge.
"Then the girl will become a Jedi. The First Order will fall. And you will die."
No deception this time; only truth.
"Kill the girl," the spirit added.