The sand burrow made for easy traveling with its flat, hard-packed ground and cooler air—which was good because Rey had no idea how long it would take to find an exit. She only knew that a strange instinct drew her forward. Let it guide you, she imagined Leia saying. She'd been doing that a lot lately, imagining what Leia would counsel her to do. She should have let the Force guide her when she and her friends were sinking into the sand. Rey wasn't sure what she would have done, but…something. Calling on the Force was easy. But she needed to make it her first instinct. Leia had observed that her formative years on Jakku had taught her to look for tactile solutions to impossible problems. Leia thought that could be why it took so long for the Force to awaken inside her, and why it might take even longer to shake that kind of conditioning.
But Rey didn't have that kind of time, and she wouldn't let herself make that mistake again.
BB-8 beeped a question.
"I don't want to know what made these tunnels," Poe answered.
"Judging by the bore circumference," C-3PO said, "any number of deadly species could—"
"Do not want to know," Poe repeated. "Not."
The tunnel curved around, and Rey followed.
BB-8 warbled at something ahead, which brought them up short. Something metallic flashed in the glow of Rey's lightsaber as they peered closer.
"What's that?" Poe said, aiming his glow rod.
"A speeder?" Finn asked.
"An old one," Rey said. Its steering vane was bent at an impossible angle, and it was outdated by at least a decade, but the dry, windless tunnel had largely preserved the acceleration module and repulsorlift. If she stripped this thing for parts, she could get at least three portions for her trouble.
"Perhaps we'll find the driver," C-3PO said.
BB-8 told C-3PO what he thought of that.
"Yeah, I think dead, too," Poe said.
Chewie complained that he was getting thirsty.
C-3PO waddled over to the speeder's hood ornament and bent over, peering close. "It's a hex charm," he said.
"A what?" Poe said.
"A common emblem of Sith loyalists!" C-3PO said, delighted.
"The Sith…" Rey murmured. This was the place her instincts had been leading her to, no doubt about it. But it was not the hex charm that had drawn her. Something else…
"Luke sensed it," Rey said. "Ochi never left this place." Disappeared into the desert, Lando had told them.
"He was headed away from his ship," Poe said. "Same thing happened to us happened to him."
That explained why the freighter had remained untouched for all these years. Anyone familiar with Pasaana knew better than to go near this place, the same way the residents of Jakku knew to stay clear of the Sinking Fields.
"So how did Ochi get out?" Finn asked, looking around for an exit.
Rey stepped toward the speeder, her limbs tingling. "He didn't," she said.
At her feet was a pile of old bones.
"Bones," said Poe, looking away in disgust. "I don't like bones."
Ochi's speeder had fallen into the tunnel, and either he'd died on impact, or he'd injured himself so badly that he'd died slowly, trapped and alone.
BB-8 warbled that he'd found something.
Rey moved next to him and peered closer at the pile of bones. Tattered clothes clung to the remains. A leather belt with a knife sheath circled his pelvis. The sheath was empty. BB-8 extended a tube from his tool compartment and began blowing away some nearby sand. Gradually, an object appeared—long and metallic, with a still-sharp blade. Rey's heart began to race as she picked it up, gripped its cold handle. This dagger. Those runes…
Screams rending the air, the metallic scent of blood, the feel of blade against bone and sinew…
Rey blinked the vision away, feeling sick. "Horrible things have happened with this," she murmured.
Poe took it from her, and a weight lifted from her shoulders when the dagger left her hand.
"It has writing on it," Poe said, studying the blade's etchings.
"Of course it does, sir!" C-3PO said cheerfully. "Perhaps I can translate."
It was an archaic text Rey had never encountered in all her years at Niima Outpost. The blade itself was silvery but untarnished, with a scalloped edge designed to do as much damage coming out of a body as sliding into it. A hefty, curved crossguard protected a leather-wrapped handle. She'd never seen anything like it.
C-3PO took it from Poe, and a weight was lifted from her shoulders when the dagger left her hand.
"What does it say?" Poe asked.
"Sith assassins often inscribed their secrets on…" the droid observed. "Oh! Look! The location of the wayfinder!"
They all practically knocked heads trying to get a closer look.
"What's it say?" Poe demanded again.
"Where's the wayfinder?" Finn said.
"I'm afraid I cannot tell you," C-3PO said.
Poe gaped at him. "Twenty-point-three-fazillion languages, and you can't read that?"
"Oh, I have read it, sir!" C-3PO enthused. "I know exactly where the wayfinder is. Unfortunately, it's written in the runic language of the Sith."
"So what?" Rey said.
"My programming forbids me from translating it. I am physically incapable!"
"Wait," said Poe. "Wait. The one time we want you to talk you can't?"
"Irony, sir."
Rey was surprised to learn that C-3PO knew what irony was.
"My vocal processors cannot phonate words translated from Sith," the droid said. A hulking shadow moved behind him. Something huge, and—Rey sensed—in great pain. Rey lifted her lightsaber in readiness. Oblivious, C-3PO added, "I believe the rule was passed by the Senate of the Old Repub—"
The thing in the shadows hissed, manifested into a serpent more massive than a happabore with a segmented body and wicked red eyes. C-3PO turned. The droid dropped the dagger into the dirt and screamed, "Serpent!" as the snake opened its massive jaw to reveal sharp fangs dripping venom. It drew back into a striking position.
"Rey," Finn whispered.
BB-8 rolled behind Rey as Chewie whipped up his bowcaster, preparing to fire.
The Force should always be her first instinct. So Rey reached out to the bowcaster to lower it, her eyes glued to the snake's huge fangs.
Poe said, "I'm gonna blast it."
"Don't blast it," Finn said, his gaze fixed on the snake.
The vexis rose even higher. It hiss-roared, blowing Chewie's fur back.
It was terrifying. Rey could sense its rage, its hunger. But she also sensed great pain. Unsure exactly what she was doing, she handed her lightsaber to Finn and stepped forward.
"Rey—" Finn protested.
"It might be injured," she said.
"Might just be a giant killer sand snake," Poe said.
Rey narrowed her eyes as she approached the serpent's body. "More light," she ordered.
Poe aimed his glow rod where she pointed, illuminating the creature. Yes, the serpent was definitely wounded. A giant gash ran across several segments. She just had to reach it. Carefully, slowly, she climbed over the vexis's curved body until she stood within its coils. If it decided to kill her, all it had to do was squeeze…
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. 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.
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 ship's ramp hissed open, spilling the dry, acrid air of Pasaana into the dim interior. Six dark figures emerged, their silhouettes stark against the burning horizon. Leading them was Ap'lek, his skull-like mask reflecting the harsh sunlight as he stepped onto the scorched ground. They moved in silence, their black robes and armor cutting through the humid air. The desolation of Pasaana stretched out before them, broken only by a distant settlement—a speck of life in the endless wasteland. Ap'lek's mind was already calculating, weighing the risks and the odds of their mission. The girl, Rey, had to be found. Kylo Ren had made it clear—she was important, though the reasons were shrouded in his usual vagueness. Ap'lek didn't care why. He was a tactician. The why didn't matter. Only the how.
As they trudged through the sand, Ap'lek's ears caught the murmur of voices behind him. Vicrul, his voice sharp and bitter, was speaking low but not low enough. "Kylo Ren has become distracted by this girl," Vicrul muttered, his helmet turning toward Ap'lek's back as if waiting for a response.
Ap'lek didn't break stride, but his mind sharpened at the comment. Vicrul was powerful, he could feel the raw energy of the Dark Side rolling off him, but he was undisciplined—more fury than focus, more rage than control.
Without looking back, Ap'lek spoke, his voice low, metallic, but edged with danger. "You question his leadership?"
The question hung in the air, colder than the winds that whipped the sand around them. For a moment, the only sound was the howling wind and the crunch of their boots on the ground. Vicrul hesitated. Ap'lek could sense the fleeting thought of defiance—an instinctive urge to challenge, to rebel, but it was quickly crushed. Vicrul may have been reckless, but he wasn't foolish.
"No," Vicrul finally answered, his voice hardening.
Ap'lek turned his head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of Vicrul from the corner of his visor. "Good," he said, his tone final, brooking no further discussion.
The Knights continued their march, each step bringing them closer to the settlement. Ap'lek's thoughts drifted back to Kylo Ren. There was a time when Kylo was focused, singular in his purpose. But now, there was something about this girl that clouded him, something that pulled him from the path of darkness, even if for only a moment. Ap'lek had seen the way Kylo's eyes changed when the girl's name was mentioned. It was weakness, a crack in the armor of their leader. But that was not for him to judge. His mission was clear: find the girl. Deliver her to Kylo Ren.
He tightened his grip on his vibro-ax, feeling the weight of it in his hand. The settlement was close now, its outline rising from the sands. The people there wouldn't be expecting them. No one ever expected the Knights of Ren. As they approached the edge of the village, Ap'lek raised a hand, signaling the others to slow. His gaze swept the streets ahead, the low, squat buildings barely holding against the desert winds. The place reeked of desperation and survival, but he could feel something else—something faint, but present. A tremor in the Force.
He turned to the others. "Spread out. She's here."
Without a word, the six of them fanned out, each moving with the silent precision of predators stalking their prey. Ap'lek stayed at the center, his mind racing ahead, planning for every possibility. The girl was strong with the Force; Kylo Ren had made that clear. But she was untrained, vulnerable. They had the advantage.
—
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.
"I'll be right behind you," she said gently. "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.
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.
—
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.
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.
—
Kuruk lay flat against the jagged rocks, his long-range rifle nestled into the crook of his shoulder. His position on the cliff gave him a clear view of the valley below. Through the scope, his world narrowed into a single point of focus—the girl. She moved cautiously, her white clothes catching the sun's rays as she walked further into the desert. Alone, unaware.
He spoke softly into the comlink strapped to his wrist, his voice barely louder than the wind that whistled through the rocky crags around him. "She's walking out into the desert."
Kuruk's finger hovered over the trigger for a moment, temptation flickering in his thoughts. A single shot, clean and precise, and it would be over. But his orders were clear: observe, track, and wait. The girl was for Kylo Ren.
Reluctantly, he shifted his scope, moving his gaze away from the girl to scan the ship parked atop a large rock formation. A battered freighter, its once-shining hull now pitted and scarred from years of use. The ramp was down, and a hulking figure emerged, moving with speed and purpose.
The Wookie.
Kuruk's eyes narrowed behind his mask. He zoomed in, the details of Chewbacca's form sharpening in his sights. He thumbed the comlink again. "The Wookie is moving toward you."
Static crackled on the line for a second before Ap'lek's voice came through, calm and methodical. "We'll intercept."
Kuruk watched as Chewbacca bounded down the large rock formation, his massive form kicking up clouds of dust with each stride. He knew the others would already be moving into position, ready to ambush. Ap'lek was always two steps ahead.
Kuruk's gaze flicked back to the girl. She was still walking, further and further away from the ship, heading toward something—or perhaps away from something. It didn't matter. She wouldn't escape.
—
Just out of sight, Ap'lek led the other Knights around the base of the rock formation. His mind was fixed on the task at hand. The Wookie was an obstacle, nothing more, and obstacles were meant to be removed.
He motioned to Cardo and Vicrul, who flanked him in the shadows. "He'll be here soon," Ap'lek said quietly. "We take him alive. No mistakes."
Vicrul gave a nod, his hand gripping the hilt of his scythe. Cardo, ever the brute, merely grunted, his massive, heavy blaster at the ready. Ap'lek could feel their anticipation, their eagerness for the coming conflict. It was a trait he admired, even if it needed constant control.
Chewbacca's bellow echoed across the valley as he charged closer. Ap'lek glanced at Ushar and Trudgen, who were in position on the other side of the rock formation. He raised a hand, signaling them to wait. Moments later, Chewie rounded the corner, his bowcaster slung over his back. His eyes were wild with determination.
"Now," Ap'lek commanded, stepping out into Chewbacca's path. The rest of the Knights followed suit, their black-clad forms emerging from the shadows like phantoms.
Chewie skidded to a stop, his growl deep and menacing. His hand went instinctively to his bowcaster, but before he could raise it, Cardo fired a warning shot into the ground at the Wookie's feet, the blast sending up a plume of sand and dust.
"Don't move," Ap'lek said, his voice cold and unyielding.
—
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 Abeloth 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 should 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 Abeloth. 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 head 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!"
Multiple transports lifted into view, one was flying toward her.
Finn punched the air with his finger. "Chewie!"
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 slowly climbed out of the cockpit. 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.
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.
—
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!"
His voice, along with Finn's rapid approach, convinced her feet to move. She would not lose any more friends. She hurried toward Finn, and together they ran for the ship.
—
From a distance Kylo Ren watched the freighter rise into the sky, Rey inside it. She had beaten him again, and yet he was filled with triumph.
He'd been right to push her.
She had just demonstrated unbelievable, mind-blowing power. Dark power. Sith power.
Rey was almost ready to turn. And when she did, they would both kill their light, embrace their darkness. Then the Star Destroyer fleet—and the Sith throne—would be theirs.