Kylo Ren stood on the wreck of the Death Star, gazing at the ocean. He'd been standing there a long time, watching the tide gradually recede. Physically, he felt better than he ever had in his life. But his mind was in turmoil. He hadn't known such healing was possible, didn't understand how it had been done. But that wasn't the question that troubled him most. Why had Rey healed him? Why would she do such a thing?
Why had his mother loved him right up until her last moment? Snoke had lied about that. Snoke had lied about all of it. All those voices in his head, torturing him throughout the years, they had promised him that a moment like this could never happen. They don't care about you. Just their precious New Republic. And later, Just their precious Resistance.
All lies.
His mother had sacrificed herself to reach him. Then Rey had healed him, at great cost to herself. In spite of everything he'd done. He had failed to kill the light within himself because it had been all around him all along. In Rey. His mother. Even…his father.
"Hey, kid," came a voice. The familiarity was like a lightsaber through his gut. He turned.
Han Solo stood before him, untouched by ocean spray. He looked exactly the way Kylo remembered him last—except his features were calm. At peace.
"I miss you, son," he said.
Kylo blinked. This couldn't be real. "Your son is dead," he said.
His father smiled. "No," he said, striding toward him. Their noses were centimeters apart when he added, "Kylo Ren is dead. My son is alive."
He let his gaze roam his father's face, his jacket, the blaster holstered at his side. Everything felt so real. He could even smell the gear lubricant Han Solo had always used to keep the Falcon's converters running.
"You're just a memory," he said.
"Your memory," said his father. His eyes were so full of love. They were like daggers. "Come home," he urged.
"It's too late." It was something the voices in his head had always said. It's too late for you. They'll never take you back. But this time it was true, because: "She's gone."
"Your mother's gone. But what she stood for and what she fought for…that's not gone."
He stared at his father, afraid to believe his words. Afraid of his own memory. Afraid of what he was feeling.
"Ben," his father said.
"I know what I have to do," Ben Solo admitted, his voice tremulous. "But I don't know if I have the strength to do it."
Han raised his hand to Ben's cheek. Ben remembered it exactly. Rey had been right; he hadn't been able to shake the memory of the warmth of his father's palm, the calluses at his fingertips, the acceptance in his eyes.
"You do," his father said.
Han Solo still believed in him. So had his mother. So had Rey.
Ben raised the handle of his lightsaber, just like he had on Starkiller Base, the last time he'd seen his father. Except this time…
"Dad…?" he said, suddenly small. Vulnerable. Right.
Han Solo smiled. "I know."
Ben turned, and launched the lightsaber into the air. It sailed in a high arc, far above the wreckage, and disappeared into a haze of ocean spray.
When he turned back, the memory of his father was gone, and Ben Solo was alone in the middle of the sea.
He knew what he had to do. Somehow, he would find the strength to do it.
—
General Hux stood before the hologram. The creature in the hologram spoke. "The Princess of Alderaan has disrupted my plan, Kylo Ren is no more," said Abeloth. "But her foolish act will be in vain. Come to me on Exegol."
The image sputtered. The transmission was weak and fragile, having made a near impossible journey through the Unknown Regions and anomalous space. But it was enough. "Send a ship to a world they know," Abeloth said, and Hux's heart skipped. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. "Let it burn. The Final Order begins. She will come. Her friends will follow."
Hux said, "Yes, my lord."
A flurry of complex coordinate data followed. The way to Exegol.
The transmission ended and General Hux turned to Admiral Griss. "Prepare to make the jump."
—
The Sith Star Destroyer popped out of hyperspace above the white, frozen world of Kijimi. Final Order captain Chesille Sabrond stood on the bridge and watched as a cloud system shifted, revealing the ridged line of a massive mountain range. It must be huge, to be visible from space. Captain Sabrond had never been outside the Unknown Regions. She'd been raised on Exegol, below ground. It had taken years of hard work and dedication to get this premium assignment, captain of the Derriphan, the designated advance destroyer. She'd killed three people, sabotaged two others, and barely slept in twenty years, just so she could be among the first to fly out into their new galaxy. Their virgin flight had been a success. Now to test the weapon.
She glanced around. The bridge was filled with Final Order officers, many raised on Exegol like her, others from various planets in the Unknown Regions. Several were children of the Empire, following in their parents' footsteps. Many of the crimson-clad stormtroopers had been conscripted by the First Order as children—and then carefully culled and "disappeared" by spies based on their potential. Everyone on this bridge had worked toward one goal: the return of the Sith.
"Kijimi is in range," said one of her lieutenants.
Captain Chesille Sabrond smiled. "Fire!" she ordered.
The deck rumbled as the massive cannon under the ship's belly erupted. The entire planet imploded, sucking in on itself. Then, like an exhale, it exploded into a cosmic mass of ice and rock and magma.
Captain Sabrond wanted to yell her triumph, but that would be unprofessional. Instead, she calmly gave the order: "Contact Imperial Command. Tell them the planet Kijimi is no more. Then set a course for our return to Exegol."
—
Poe, Finn, Chewie, and the droids hurried down the Falcon's ramp into the jungle base. The place was denser now—more consoles, more people, even a few more ships. The Resistance had been busy while they were away.
Poe was glad to see Commander D'Acy waiting to greet them at the bottom of the ramp. "Poe," she said, her voice heavy with solemnity. "Something's happened. Finn—"
"This can't wait," Finn said.
"We gotta see the general," Poe said.
D'Acy's face was stricken. "She's gone," she said.
Poe froze, staring at the commander, his mind refusing to parse what she'd just said.
Chewie moaned, rolled his head back, dropped to his knees. Finn tried to comfort the Wookiee, but Chewie waved him off, grieving loudly.
Poe just stood there, his heart aching, his feet unmoored. He was barely aware as Beaumont grabbed him, began unwrapping the bandages on his arm.
"We came so close," Poe murmured. "I'm sorry."
Beaumont spread bacta gel on Poe's blaster wound, rebandaged it, all the while saying nothing.
A moment later, D'Acy appeared again. "Poe. You need to see this."
He looked back and forth between them—Beaumont, to D'Acy, and back to Beaumont again. How were they still working? Doing anything? How could they? Leia was gone, and the Resistance with her.
He allowed D'Acy to lead him and Beaumont to a communications console. She pointed to the message. "Kijimi's been destroyed," she said. "A blast from a Star Destroyer."
"Kijimi…" Agony speared him anew. Zorii. "How?" he choked out.
"A blast from a Star Destroyer."
He shook his head. "Impossible. It would take…No." No, no, no. "No way a Star Destroyer—"
"It was from the new Sith fleet. Out of the Unknowns."
Beaumont's mouth dropped open. "Abeloth sent the ship from Exegol. Does that mean all the ships in the fleet—"
"Have planet-killing weapons," Poe finished with dawning horror. "Of course they do. Every one…This is how they finish it."
Something beeped on Rose's console, and she hurried over. "Listen," she said. "It's on every frequency."
The console crackled and popped, and a voice began speaking in a language Poe didn't recognize.
But Beaumont's eyes flew open. "The Resistance is dead," he translated. "The Sith flame will burn. All worlds, surrender or die. The Final Order begins."
And then the message repeated on a loop.
Everyone turned to Poe.
"Leia made you acting general," Rose said. "What now?"
Commander D'Acy put a hand on his shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. She said, "We await orders."
His first impulse was to refuse. He'd never run from anything in his life, but he wanted to run now. He couldn't accept that Leia was gone, much less take on her job. He wasn't ready. Maybe he'd never be ready. He'd made terrible mistakes, gotten so many people killed. He thought he'd have more time to learn. To atone for what he'd done. What had she been thinking, naming him acting general?
He'd thought he was past this. She'd told him as much. But maybe forgiving yourself was a longer, harder process than a fellow realized.
Suddenly, a memory of Leia popped into his mind, clear as day, and he imagined her voice so deeply and profoundly it was almost like she was standing right there. Failure is the greatest teacher, she said.
—
Finn sat on Rey's cot. He couldn't believe Leia was gone. She had accepted him so readily, hadn't even blinked when she'd learned he was a First Order deserter. In fact, she'd called him brave, considered him one of her most valuable assets. She'd set up training and education opportunities for him. Pushed him to learn, to always do better. Leia hadn't spent nearly as much time with him as with Poe or Rey, but it was clear that she'd expected great things from him.
The tiny droid they'd rescued from Ochi's ship toddled toward him and began poking around Rey's things. He noticed Rey's half-built lightsaber and inclined his pointy nose cone toward it.
"Hey, don't touch that! That's my friend's."
The tiny droid recoiled, cocked his head. "So-so sorry," he said. "She is gone."
"Yeah, she's gone," Finn answered. "I don't know where."
The droid rolled back and forth. "I miss her."
"Yeah, I miss her, too."
He'd give anything to be sitting beside her now, sharing grief. Not necessarily saying anything, just…being.
If he knew where Rey was, nothing in the galaxy would prevent him from going to her. He and Rey had been saving each other since the moment they met. That's what friends did.
No one quite understood his single-minded devotion to Rey, except maybe Leia. Even Rose—though she accepted it—thought it was a bit strange. But it wasn't strange at all. Rey was Finn's friend, yes, but she was also important. He sensed it. It was that same undeniable feeling he'd told Jannah about. If anything happened to Rey, the Resistance didn't stand a chance.
The droid whirred again, a lonely sound. Finn realized he'd been so caught up in everything that was going on, he'd never bothered to get to know the little fellow. Rey mattered, but so did everyone else. The only way they were going to make it through this was together.
"So," he said. "What's your name?"
—
C-3PO wandered the base, disoriented. The place was a disaster, with cables strewn everywhere, jungle vines invading everything. Mud was starting to clog his joints. An oil bath would be just the thing, but he had no idea who to ask. This ragtag group of beings included humans, Mon Calamari, a Wookiee, and a dozen other species—not to mention several droids. No one culture or language seemed to dominate, which meant C-3PO had no idea what the protocol was.
An R2-series astromech spotted him and rolled in his direction. He was white with blue markings, and he bore the scars of battle. An uncouth little thing, but it paid to be polite in these circumstances.
"Hello," C-3PO said. "I am See-Threepio, human–cyborg relations. And you are?"
The astromech rolled back as if struck. Then beeped insistently.
"My memory backup? Why would a stubby astromech droid have my memory stored?"
The little droid beeped again, irritated.
"Well, I'm quite certain I'd remember if I had a best friend." C-3PO turned away. There was nothing worse than an astromech with delusions of grandeur.
The astromech warbled insistently.
"You want to put what in my head? Under no circumstances—"
The blue droid extended his transfer arm and began to chase after him.
"You stay away from me with that!"
More warbling, almost too fast to keep up with.
"Whatever are you referring to? What history together?"
The astromech whistled, more gently now. His words stopped C-3PO in his tracks. The golden droid looked up at the ship looming over them.
"On a ship like that?" C-3PO said. "With a princess? You're malfunctioning!"
But he let the little droid approach.
—
Poe sat in the dark, beside Leia's covered body.
"I gotta tell you," he told her. "I don't know how to do this. What you did…I'm not ready."
"Neither were we," came a voice from the shadows, and Poe turned. It was Lando Calrissian.
The former Rebellion general had flown to Ajan Kloss on his ship, the Lady Luck, almost as soon as they'd left Pasaana. Something Rey had said convinced him, and Poe was so glad he was here.
"Luke. Han. Leia. Me," Lando said. "Who's ever ready?"
Poe stepped toward him. According to Connix, Lando had been overcome with grief when he arrived just a little too late. He'd missed his chance to say goodbye.
Lando looked as sad as Poe felt, his brow knitted, his shoulders slumped. He kept eyeing Leia's shroud. He'd probably regret not coming sooner for the rest of his life. Poe understood what it was to regret.
"How did you do it?" Poe asked. "How did you defeat an Empire with almost nothing?"
Lando was silent for a long moment. Then: "We had each other. That's how we won. We were friends."
A light dawned in Poe's mind. For the first time since his return to Ajan Kloss, he smiled.
—
Poe went searching for Finn. Finn found him first and was rushing toward him, the tiny conical droid lapping at his heels.
"I gotta tell you something," Finn said, his voice urgent.
"I gotta tell you something," Poe returned. "I can't do this alone. I need you in command with me. Tell me yours."
"This droid!—uh, that's really nice, I appreciate that…"
"General," Poe said, saluting.
"Uh, General, this droid has a trove of data on Exegol."
"Wait, what?" Poe said. "Cone face?"
"I am Dee-Oh!" the droid said.
"Sorry. Dee-Oh," Poe said.
"He was there with Ochi," Finn said.
Poe looked at the droid, then back at Finn.
—
The coral sun set over the ocean of Ahch-To as flames engulfed Kylo Ren's TIE fighter. Rey watched the ship burn, tears in her eyes. She chucked bits of driftwood at it. Not that they could do any damage, but it felt good to throw things. She finally understood why Luke had come here, why he'd given up everything and taken up the life of a hermit. Rey was never going back. She would never put her friends in danger again. She would never face Kylo again. She would live out whatever years she had right here.
Without Leia, she had no chance of pushing back the tide. The galaxy was better off without her. Belonging had been a fleeting fancy. She was meant to be alone. She pulled out her lightsaber and stared down at it. The weapon of a Jedi. But she was no Jedi.
Rey threw it with a vengeance into the fire.
A hand reached out and caught it. A robed figure emerged from the flames, limned in ghostly light, almost transparent.
"A Jedi's weapon deserves more respect," he said.
"Master Skywalker!" she breathed.
His eyes narrowed in consternation. "What are you doing?"
They stared at each other. Rey wasn't sure what to tell him. Maybe he already knew.
Beside her, a ragged porg shook its feathers, cawing at her in irritation.
—
She sat by the fire pit—she had to sit; she was so exhausted from battling Kylo and healing him.
Luke stood over her, unbothered by the proximity of his robes to the flames. "I did everything I was trained not to," she told him. "I drew my saber first, attacked Ren, blind with anger."
"But then you healed him."
Rey said, "I gave him some of my life. In that moment I would have given him all of it…died if I had to."
"Your compassion saved him," said Luke.
Rey didn't feel like fielding anything resembling a compliment. She didn't deserve it. "I saw myself on the dark throne," Rey told the Jedi Master. "I won't let it happen. I'm never leaving this place." She looked at him in challenge. "I'm doing what you did."
The fire popped. A spark landed on Luke's robe, but he didn't react, and the spark winked out as though it had landed on nothing.
"I was wrong," Luke said. "It was fear that kept me here. What are you most afraid of?"
The answer was easy. But saying it was hard. "Myself."
"Because you're a Palpatine."
She gasped. He'd said it so casually, as though not impressed in the least.
"Leia knew it too," he added.
Rey had guessed as much, but it was still startling to hear him say it. "She never told me," she whispered.
Luke moved to sit beside her.
"She still trained me," Rey said.
"Because she saw your spirit," Luke said. "Your heart."
Rey had always assumed that Leia agreed to train her because she saw her as a weapon. An asset in the fight against the First Order. Could it be true that she'd also seen something else in her? Something good?
Rey looked down at her hands, feeling foolish. "I wanted Leia to think I was as strong as she was. I'm not."
"Leia was stronger than all of us," Luke said.
Which made Rey wonder: Had Leia ever been tempted by the dark side? In all the stories she'd heard, in reading Luke's journals, studying with Leia, she had never once heard of anyone even trying to turn her, the way Vader and the Emperor had tried to turn Luke. The way Kylo had tried to turn her. Maybe, of all of them, Leia had been unturnable.
Finn would be like that, she realized with a jolt, if he could touch the Force. He was special that way.
She was shaking her head, and tears threatened once again. "I don't think I can do it without Leia. I'm descended from such dark—"
"Rey," Luke said. "Some things are stronger than blood."
The rightness of his words sparked inside her. The Force was stronger than blood. And friendship. And love.
"But I'm afraid," she confessed.
"Confronting fear is the destiny of a Jedi," Luke went on. "Your destiny. If you don't face Palpatine, it will mean the end to the Jedi. And the war will be lost."
"Like you had to confront Vader," she said, remembering the notes in his journals.
"It's okay to be afraid. I was."
She gave him an arch look.
"You think it's an accident we found each other?" Luke continued. "Two orphans from the desert…The Force brought you to me and Leia for a reason.
He rose. Though island wind whipped at the strands of Rey's hair, Luke's seemed unaffected. "There's something my sister would want you to have" he said. "Follow me."
Luke led her inside his old hut. It was still in good condition, maintained by the Lanai caretakers in his absence. He pointed toward a loose brick in the wall.
"In there," he said.
Rey removed the brick and reached inside. Her fingertips encountered a hard object wrapped in soft leather. She pulled it out. Unwrapped it. It was a lightsaber, shining with relative newness. As soon as her hands gripped it, she sensed its owner, and she smiled.
"Leia's lightsaber," she said.
"It was the last night of her training," Luke said.
Rey caught glimpses of his memory—lightsabers clashing, their blades lighting the jungle around them in soft blue and green. Their fight was fierce, but Rey felt a sense of fun. Of joy. Luke had loved training with his sister.
Luke found himself toppled to the ground, his fall cushioned by a bed of ferns. He looked up at his twin—a much younger version of the woman Rey had come to know—who grinned, but her face held sadness too. Resignation.
"Leia told me that she had sensed the death of her son at the end of her Jedi path," Luke said.
"Oh," Rey breathed. That was it. The thing Leia had been holding back.
"She surrendered her saber to me and said that one day, it would be picked up again by someone who would finish her journey."
Rey stared at it. Was she meant to have this?
"A thousand generations live in you now," Luke said. "But this is your fight." He glanced down at the lightsaber in her hand. "You'll take both lightsabers to Exegol."
Her heart sunk. By trying to do the right thing, she had ruined everything. "I can't get there," she said. "I don't have the wayfinder. I destroyed Ren's ship."
The Jedi Master's smile held so much fondness it made her heart ache. "You have everything you need," he said gently.
—
On Luke's orders, Rey had laid down in the hut and closed her eyes. She'd given away too much of her life force during the healing, and she needed a brief rest, or she would get nowhere fast. Luke hadn't pushed her, or told her how he expected her to get to Exegol, just given her space to think. It was exactly what Leia would have done.
Rey flipped onto her back, sighing. She'd been asking herself for months: What would Leia do? This time, the answer was easy: Leia would leave Ahch-To and get back in the fight. In fact, she wouldn't have come here in the first place. Even though, like Rey, Leia was descended from unspeakable evil.
Luke, too, when given the choice, had left to face his fears. How could she do any less?
Rey gave up resting and exited the hut, entering a damp, foggy morning. Clouds shrouded the island, and a low tide revealed wet, kelpy shoals.
One of the Lanai caretakers immediately stood up from a stone bench, giving Rey a disapproving glare over her beaklike nose. Rey glared right back, as the caretaker went inside the hut she'd just vacated, no doubt to clean and straighten. Had she been outside the doorway all night? The caretakers probably couldn't wait for Rey to be gone, just like last time.
The TIE was now a smoldering wreck. A few porgs huddled nearby, as close to the warmth of the dying fire as they dared.
Something twinged inside her, called to her, and she stepped forward. A night drizzle had cooled the wreckage. Following her instincts, she reached down and shoved the detritus aside.
A wayfinder sat there, smokeless and pristine. Vader's wayfinder.
Rey whispered, "Two were made…"
The noise of the sea was ever-present here on Ahch-To, but compared with what she'd just experienced on Kef Bir, it was a gentle, peaceful rhythm of waves against cliffs, diving porgs, crying gulls. So when something happened, it was noticeable. Behind her, the sea churned violently, and wet spray hit her back. She turned. Peered over the cliffside.
Water was boiling up in the cove below. Luke's submerged X-wing began to rise—first came the laser cannons on the wingtips, shedding water and seaweed. Then the fusial thrust engines, the cockpit canopy, the nose cone. Soon even the landing gear was clear, and Rey watched, awestruck, as the fighter drifted with perfect precision and control to an area of flat ground, where it landed with a tiny thump.
Her gaze was drawn to a figure nearby. Luke, eyes closed, shining blue against the cliffside, reaching out his hand.
He opened his eyes, saw her, and smiled.
She smiled back. Luke was right. She had everything she needed.