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A Blade of Hope and Shadows
“Stay forever in the Light
I awaken, I arise
I still hear the call of Life
I'm taken by the Tide
Stay forever in the Light
I awaken, I survive
And I still hear the call of Life
I'm taken by the Tide!”
“Awaken” - Breaking Benjamin
Rey navigated carefully through the wreckage of the Death Star, her boots sinking into the uneven, unstable terrain, every step reverberating a hollow, metallic echo through the shattered remains. The twisted beams of steel rose up around her like jagged bones, remnants of a once indomitable beast, now reduced to a broken shell. The structure that had once loomed large over the galaxy was now just a graveyard of steel and shadows. Sunlight slanted through the gaps in the debris, creating fractured beams of light that stretched across the ground, their glow softened by the salt-laden air, heavy with the scent of an impending storm. Every breath Rey drew felt thick, burdened with the weight of the past—a past that clung to her, refusing to fade.
The battle at Exegol had ended, but its scars were still fresh, still raw. The chaotic roar of ships, the crackling hum of lightsabers, and the blinding flashes of energy still haunted her mind, echoes of a war that had ravaged the galaxy and left its survivors broken. Here, in the eerie stillness of the Death Star’s ruins, all those violent sounds had been swallowed by an oppressive silence. And yet, it was the silence within her that felt the most unbearable, as though the war inside her soul had yet to find its resolution. She had won—but the victory felt hollow, and the cost was unimaginable.
Ben Solo.
His name ached in her chest, a wound that pulsed with every heartbeat, an emptiness that remained even in his absence. She could still feel the lingering warmth of his hand in hers, still see the flicker of light in his eyes as he made his final, irrevocable choice—returning to the light to save her. But in saving her, he had sacrificed himself, leaving her more alone than she had ever been. His redemption had brought her peace, but also pain—his loss was a wound that refused to heal, an ache that gnawed at her in the quiet moments. Now, in the aftermath of all that had happened, she found herself adrift, unsure of her place in this galaxy without him by her side.
“You’re not alone.”
Ben’s words echoed faintly in her memory, but they felt hollow now, a promise that couldn’t touch the emptiness she felt.
“Force,” Rey thought bitterly, “I wish that were true.”
Her hands trembled as she steadied herself against a fallen beam, her thoughts once again drifting to Ben—to Kylo. He had lived in both the light and the dark, and in the end, he had chosen the light. For her. Rey swallowed hard, her throat tight as she remembered the man he had become in those final moments, the promise of what he could have been. She would never see that man again. The loss of that potential, the loss of him, felt like too much to bear.
She climbed over a crumpled wall of twisted metal, her body moving almost automatically, her mind wandering far from the physical act of navigating the wreckage. Her thoughts drifted to her friends—Finn, Poe, Rose—who had been with her through the war, fighting at her side. But each of them had emerged from the battle carrying their own scars, their own burdens. Finn, who had once been so full of boundless hope and easy laughter, had grown quieter, the weight of all they had endured settling heavily on him. He was her first apprentice now, and yet Rey couldn’t shake the feeling that she was failing him, that she wasn’t ready to guide anyone.
Poe had taken on the mantle of leadership, but it was clear that the responsibility was wearing on him. His eyes, once so bright and alive with the thrill of adventure, had dulled, his shoulders sagging under the strain of holding the Resistance together. Rey could see how the burden of it all was eating away at him, piece by piece. And Rose—quiet, sharp, and always perceptive—had watched Rey with a growing concern. She had sensed it too—the rift forming between them all, the sorrow that lingered in the air like an unspoken weight, widening the gap that none of them knew how to close.
She had been distant, closed off, not because she didn’t trust them, but because she didn’t know how to share the burden she carried. The legacy of Palpatine, Ben’s death, the future of the Jedi—all of it weighed on her soul, crushing her beneath its enormity. How could she possibly share that with anyone? How could she let them in, when she barely understood it herself?
Rey allowed herself a fleeting smile as their faces flickered through her mind, memories of better times—of laughter, of camaraderie, of simpler moments before the galaxy’s weight had settled on their shoulders like an unbearable yoke. But the smile faded almost as quickly as it had come, replaced by the cold reality of the present. They didn’t know where she was. She hadn’t told them. She hadn’t said goodbye.
The thought of her last conversation with Finn gnawed at her, she felt awful for how it all played out.
She had tried, over and over, to lose herself in the rhythm of combat. The flow of her training with Finn had once been a refuge—a place where she could quiet her mind and find some semblance of peace. But now, even that sanctuary felt hollow. Each swing of her lightsaber only amplified the chaos within her, the storm inside too wild to be calmed by the familiar clash of blades. She struck harder, faster, as if by sheer force she could exorcise the pain that clung to her soul, but it was futile. After one particularly forceful strike, her breath caught in frustration, and with a flick of her wrist, she deactivated her saber. The familiar hum faded, leaving an oppressive silence that weighed heavier than any sound.
“I just need a moment,” she had told Finn countless times, the words a thin veil over her growing sense of inadequacy. A weak smile, more for his sake than hers, tugged at her lips as she stepped away, retreating to the edge of the hill. There, beneath the open sky, she sought solace, but found none. The horizon stretched endlessly before her, but all she felt was the crushing weight of expectation—the looming responsibility of rebuilding the Jedi Order. The enormity of it hung over her like a shadow, relentless and suffocating. How could she lead when her own heart was still broken? How could she offer guidance to others when she could barely find her own way?
The wind stirred the grass around her, its cool touch brushing against her skin, but it did nothing to ease the ache that had settled deep in her chest. She didn’t hear Finn approach, but she felt him—his presence familiar, steady, grounding. He sat beside her without a word, the quiet understanding between them more powerful than anything words could offer. His training saber fell to the grass, forgotten as his fingers idly tugged at the blades of grass, lost in thought.
For a long moment, they sat in silence, the weight of unspoken feelings heavy in the air. It was Finn who finally broke it, his voice soft and filled with a quiet empathy. “You think about him a lot, don’t you?”
Rey didn’t turn to look at him. Her gaze remained fixed on the horizon, the distant trees swaying gently in the wind, their whispers lost in the vastness of the open landscape. The question hung between them, and for a moment, she struggled with how to respond. How could she put into words the depth of what she felt? How could she explain the hole that had been left inside her, a void that no amount of training, no battle, could ever fill?
She exhaled slowly, the sound heavy with all the things she couldn’t express. “Every day,” she whispered, her voice so quiet it was almost carried away by the wind.
Finn didn’t push her. He didn’t need to. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, a simple gesture, but one filled with warmth and understanding. His presence, solid and unwavering, was the only thing keeping her grounded in that moment. “I can’t say I understand what you had with him,” he said gently, his voice carrying the weight of his own grief, “but I knew Kylo Ren. I only ever saw the darkness.”
Rey’s eyes finally shifted, turning to meet his, her gaze earnest, almost pleading. “Ben Solo wasn’t Kylo Ren,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “There was light in him, Finn. Even at the end… especially at the end. He saved me.”
Her words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Finn nodded slowly, his brow furrowed in thought as he processed her words. “I wish I could’ve seen that,” he admitted. “But if you say it’s true, I believe you. You deserve to remember him that way.”
Rey felt a flicker of warmth at his words, a small, fragile smile pulling at the corners of her lips. It was a brief reprieve from the heaviness she carried, but in Finn’s sincerity, she found a quiet comfort. “He fought so hard against his past,” she whispered, her voice distant as her thoughts drifted back to Ben. “When it mattered most, he was there. I just… I just wish we had more time.”
The last words were spoken so softly, they almost disappeared into the wind. But Finn heard them, and he felt the depth of what she had lost, even if he couldn’t fully understand it. He didn’t need to. He simply sat with her, offering his quiet support as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting the world in hues of orange and pink. The fading light mirrored the ache in Rey’s heart, the longing for what could never be.
The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden light over the treetops, the sky streaked with hues of orange and pink. As they sat together, Rey felt a deep ache settle in her chest. The possibilities of what could have been gnawed at her, but in Finn’s presence, she found a moment of peace. He was there, solid and dependable, reminding her that even in the midst of her grief, she wasn’t entirely alone.
“Come to me…”
Rey’s breath caught in her throat. She jolted upright, her head snapping around as she searched for the source of the voice. Finn asked if she was okay, concern in his eyes, but she barely heard him. Her pulse quickened.
“I did want to take your hand… Ben’s hand.”
The voice was unmistakable—her own, but it wasn’t just a memory. It was a pull, tugging at her heart, at her very soul. She straightened up, her mind racing. The ocean… the waves… the call…
Without another word, Rey stood abruptly, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew where she needed to go. The answer was waiting for her, out there, beyond the horizon. She didn’t wait for Finn’s questions. She ran. Ran as hard as she could!
Rey shielded her eyes with her arm, squinting against the blinding sunlight as she carefully stepped toward a jagged opening in the Death Star wreckage. The crumbling metal beneath her feet was slick with sea spray, each step precarious as the violent ocean below crashed relentlessly against the twisted remains. The wind howled, carrying the salty sting of the sea, mingling with the turmoil that churned within her.
Her breath hitched, uneven and labored, as she reached the edge. She had followed the pull of the Force, the echo of Ben’s presence, across the galaxy to this place. But now, standing at the precipice, staring into the vast, turbulent waters, she felt… nothing.
Disappointment and frustration gnawed at her. She clenched her jaw, her chest tight with the weight of expectation—of hope—that had driven her here. The Force had been her guide, the bond between her and Ben a tether she couldn’t let go. And yet, now, it felt distant, flickering, like a dying ember.
Her hand trembled as she closed her eyes, reaching out again, desperate to reconnect with the thread of Ben’s presence. She sought the familiar warmth of his essence in the Force, but it was faint—elusive. Every time she tried to grasp it, it slipped through her fingers like smoke. The bond she had clung to for so long felt so beyond her reach
“DAMN IT!”
The shout ripped from her throat, raw and jagged. Without thinking, she slammed her fist into the nearest wall of the wreckage, the impact sending a sharp jolt of pain through her hand. A jagged piece of metal sliced into her palm, and she winced as blood began to trickle down her wrist, staining the already-rusted surface of the Death Star beneath her.
She gripped the edge of the wall tightly, her knuckles turning white, the pain grounding her in the present. But it wasn’t enough to drown out the bitter frustration clawing at her insides. 'Why?' she thought, her breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps. 'Why did I come all this way? Why did the Force bring me here—if there’s nothing left of him?'
She thought she could bring him back...That the Force was showing her how to perform this mircale
Her mind raced back to Exegol, to that terrible moment when Ben had given everything to save her. The memory was a raw wound that hadn’t healed—a wound that refused to close. She could still see his face, etched into her mind with perfect clarity. The light in his eyes, the way his hand had touched hers before he faded into nothing. He had given her his life, and in doing so, he had left her behind.
‘Why didn’t we get more time?’
The roar of the sea filled her ears as the waves crashed violently against the wreckage once more, sending a spray of icy saltwater over her. But she didn’t move. She stood there, staring blankly at the endless expanse of water, feeling the weight of failure press down on her like a physical burden. She had fought so hard, followed every sign, every whisper in the Force, and still… she was alone.
just as she was about to turn away, something changed. A whisper, faint at first, tickled the edges of her consciousness. It was subtle, barely perceptible, but unmistakably real. Her breath caught in her throat. 'Ben.'
Her heart raced as she stood frozen, listening—feeling. The Force stirred, raw and wild, tugging at her like an unseen hand pulling her deeper into its current. The bond between her and Ben, which had been so faint moments before, suddenly flared to life. It crackled with energy, filled with the tension of their shared past—the conflict, the pain, and… something else.
Her pulse quickened. Memories flooded her mind: their fierce battle on the wreckage of the Death Star, the waves crashing around them; the rage and fear in his eyes; the fleeting peace she had felt when Ben had returned. His death. The loss she had never fully processed. And then—his voice.
“Rey…”
Her eyes snapped open, her breath catching in her throat. “Ben?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Ben, where are you?!”
The connection wavered, flickering like a candle in the wind. But she held onto it with every ounce of strength she had, reaching out further, deeper into the Force. She could feel him—he was here, somewhere beneath the surface of the raging ocean, waiting for her.
The wind howled louder, whipping her hair into her face, but she didn’t move. She stood her ground, the power of the Force surging through her, the connection between them growing stronger, more urgent. Her heart pounded as the memories, the emotions, everything crashed over her all at once.
And then—she felt it. The unmistakable pull. Ben’s presence wasn’t just below the surface. It was IN the water, calling to her. She staggered forward, her breath ragged as her hand—her bloody, trembling hand—shot out into the air, streaks of red smearing her fingers. She didn’t just wait for something to happen this time—she pulled!
Her arm stretched toward the ocean with all the desperation, all the longing that had built within her since the moment Ben had faded into the Force. She felt the connection, raw and electric, coursing through her fingers, reaching down, down into the sea, searching for what remained of him. It was like trying to pull him back from the void—from the abyss that had swallowed him. Her entire body shook as she focused every ounce of her strength, her will, into that single moment.
She was reaching for him!
The water churned violently, the waves crashing against the wreckage with a deafening roar. Her muscles strained, her chest heaving with effort. The Force swirled around her, growing stronger, more intense, as if it, too, was fighting to bring him back. The bond between them pulsed, a living, breathing thing that sparked to life once more, and suddenly—
With a burst of energy, the sea exploded upward. the water churning violently as something dark and metallic shot up from the depths, spinning through the air toward her with terrifying speed. Rey gasped, stumbling backward as the object careened toward her. Her heart raced in her chest, her hand—slick with blood—stretching out instinctively, pulling it toward her through the Force.
The item landed in her outstretched hand with a heavy thud, the weight of it nearly causing her knees to buckle. She gasped, her fingers curling around the cold metal hilt, her breath catching in her throat as the reality of it hit her.
It was his!
Kylo Ren’s lightsaber.
Her mind reeled, her body frozen in shock. This weapon—the very symbol of his darkness, of his rage—was in her hand. The saber he had wielded in their battles, the one that had cut through enemies and allies alike. She stared at it, her bloodied hand gripping the hilt tightly, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She could feel the weight of his presence in the weapon, like a shadow lurking in the edges of her awareness.
She had pulled it from the ocean, but it felt as if she had pulled a piece of him back with it.
Tears stung her eyes, memories flooding back with an intensity that nearly knocked her off balance. She could see him now, clearer than ever—their battle on the wreckage of the Death Star, the water crashing down around them, the fierce anger in his eyes; the moment on Exegol when Ben had returned to the light, when they had fought together, their hands touching in the aftermath. The unbearable pain of watching him die, of watching him slip away into the Force.
Without thinking, Rey activated the saber. The crimson blade ignited with a violent hiss, casting an eerie red glow across her face. The sound was deafening in the silence, the color of the blade a stark contrast to the brightness of the day around her.
But something was wrong.
Her chest tightened, the air around her growing thin. Her heart raced faster, her breaths coming in shallow, panicked gasps. A wave of overwhelming dread surged through her, stronger than anything she had felt before. The world around her began to close in, the edges of her vision blurring as her body trembled uncontrollably.
'What’s happening to me?' Her thoughts raced, frantic, as her grip on the saber tightened. Her chest heaved, her lungs screaming for air, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She didn’t understand—she had faced countless dangers, fought in countless battles, and yet, this—This—was something new. Something terrifying.
The fear took hold, suffocating her. Her vision blurred, and the weight of the lightsaber felt unbearable in her hand, as if it were dragging her down into the depths of the sea. Her hand shook violently, the blood from her palm mixing with the cold metal as she fought to control the rising tide of fear that threatened to drown her.
Suddenly, she couldn’t bear it any longer. With a desperate cry, she hurled the lightsaber away from her, watching as it spun through the air and crashed against the wreckage, far from her reach. She stumbled backward, her knees nearly buckling as she gasped for breath, her hands clutching at her chest, trying to steady herself.
Her whole body trembled, her skin slick with cold sweat. She had no words for what had just happened, no understanding of the suffocating terror that had gripped her so completely. All she knew was that she couldn’t breathe—she couldn’t think—she couldn’t bear the weight of that saber in her hand for a second longer.
She collapsed to her knees, her breathing still ragged as she pressed her palms to the ground, her bloody fingers digging into the wet metal. Slowly, painfully, she forced herself to breathe, to calm the storm raging inside her. The wind howled around her, but it was distant now, muted by the roar of blood rushing in her ears.
After what felt like an eternity, Rey fumbled for her comms, her hand shaking violently as she pressed the button. “Chewie…” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, raw and trembling. “Chewie, I—I need you to come get me. Please.”
There was a brief silence on the other end, and then Chewie’s familiar growl rumbled through the comms, steady and comforting. He was coming. He would find her.
Rey closed her eyes, her body still shaking, her breath still uneven as she tried to center herself. She wasn’t ready to face that saber again. Not yet...
Rey sat on the edge of her cot, her shoulders slumped beneath the weight of thoughts too heavy to ignore. As she laced her boots with slow, deliberate motions, the quiet of her quarters offered no relief. It felt as if the silence itself pressed against her, amplifying the turmoil that churned just beneath the surface. The galaxy was slowly healing—the Resistance had made strides, pushing the remnants of conflict farther into the fringes of the Outer Rim. For the first time in years, there was peace. But it was a fragile peace, and Rey found herself crushed beneath a far more personal burden. She had trained, fought, and won battles that most could scarcely imagine, but the war within her raged on.
Her hands trembled as she adjusted her belt, her fingers fumbling with the clasp. Today, there was a scouting report to handle—another task, another step in rebuilding a galaxy still fractured by years of war. A simple mission, she reminded herself. But no matter how much she tried to focus, the Force kept pulling at her, dragging her attention away from her duties and back toward something far more elusive. Her mind kept drifting, slipping into places she didn’t want to go.
Her gaze drifted, inevitably, to the box. It sat in the corner of the room, unremarkable to anyone else—plain, unadorned, gathering dust. But to her, it pulsed with a dark, quiet energy that felt almost alive. She had locked it away months ago, unwilling to face the truth of what lay inside. Kylo Ren’s lightsaber. The last remnant of Ben Solo. She hadn’t touched it since that day, the day she stood on the jagged wreckage of the Death Star, soaked to the bone, the weight of the galaxy pressing down on her like the stormy sea around her.
Her breath caught as the memories came rushing back—how Chewbacca had found her, half-drowned, her body shivering with cold and shock. He had carried her back to the Falcon, wrapping her in warmth and comfort, his concern as palpable as the steady beat of his heart. But she had been beyond comfort, barely able to speak, barely able to make sense of the emotions tearing her apart. When they returned to base, they told her it was a panic attack—her body finally buckling under the strain of everything she had endured.
How absurd, she had thought at the time. After facing the Emperor, after surviving war after war, it was a lightsaber—a weapon sinking into the ocean—that had shattered her. But it wasn’t just the saber.
No, it was something far deeper. Something she had refused to confront.
Her eyes returned to the box, the Force pulling at her more insistently now, tugging her toward it like a magnet. The box seemed to hum with energy, as though the saber inside was calling out to her, begging to be acknowledged. Her heart raced as she stood, each step toward it feeling heavier, more fraught with danger. The saber had haunted her dreams since that day, its presence lingering like a ghost, a dark reminder of the man she had known—both Kylo Ren and Ben Solo.
She stopped in front of the box, her hand hovering above the latch. The air around it felt thick, almost oppressive, as if by opening it, she would unleash something she couldn’t control. Her fingers shook as she hesitated, a wave of fear rising inside her. What if opening this changed everything? What if the darkness within it swallowed her whole?
But the Force called again—stronger this time, more insistent. Do it.
With a deep breath, Rey flipped the latch and opened the box. The saber lay inside, its dark, jagged hilt gleaming in the dim light of the room. It looked as menacing as she remembered, the weight of its history pressing down on her even before she touched it. It wasn’t just a weapon. It was a symbol—of everything Kylo Ren had been, of everything Ben Solo had struggled to escape.
Her fingers hovered above the cold metal, her heart pounding in her chest. The moment her skin brushed against it, the Force surged, flooding her mind with visions.
They came in a rush, overwhelming her senses. She saw herself and Ben in Snoke’s throne room, the red-clad guards attacking them as they fought side by side for the first time. She remembered the heat of battle, the way their movements had been perfectly in sync, as if they were two parts of a whole. She had felt a connection to him then, something deeper than she could explain, something that had scared her. The vision shifted, spinning into their final duel on the wreckage of the Death Star—the relentless waves crashing around them, the fury in his eyes as they clashed again and again. She remembered the exhaustion, the raw pain that had radiated from him as she struck him down, the finality of it sinking into her bones.
But the visions didn’t stop. They deepened, pulling her into something more intimate, more painful. She saw Kylo Ren, alone, standing on the edge of the Death Star. He held the saber in his hands, his face was twisted in anguish as he tossed it into the ocean, the weapon sinking into the depths below. His hand shook as he let it go, his eyes hollow, as though he was casting away a part of himself. But then, the vision pulled her back, back further into the past.
She saw a young Ben Solo, before the mask, before the darkness. He stood in front of a glowing kyber crystal, its light brilliant and pure. His face was so different then—soft, innocent, filled with uncertainty. She watched as his hands trembled, the crystal in his grip turning red, slowly bleeding as he forced it into darkness. His expression twisted with pain, fear, and confusion. This was the moment he became Kylo Ren, the moment his light was smothered beneath the weight of the dark side.
Rey’s heart ached at the sight. She had never seen this before—never known just how much he had suffered, how torn he had been. The visions spun faster, showing her his years of torment, his struggle between light and dark, the relentless pull of the dark side that had consumed him. The pain was too much, the darkness too overwhelming. It crashed over her like a wave, suffocating her in its intensity.
Gasping, Rey ripped her hand away and slammed the box shut, the sound echoing in the small room. Her chest heaved, her breath coming in ragged, desperate bursts. She stumbled back, pressing herself against the cold wall, her heart racing as she tried to steady herself.
It’s just a saber, she told herself, but even she knew that wasn’t true. It had never been just a saber. It was him—everything he had been, everything he had lost, everything he had fought to destroy.
She wiped the sweat from her brow, her fingers still tingling from the touch of the hilt. The air in the room felt suffocating, thick with the residual energy of the visions, as if the darkness still lingered, clinging to her skin.
She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe, to calm the storm raging inside her. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the images, couldn’t escape the weight of what she had seen. It had been more than just memories—it had been a window into his soul.
Rey pushed herself off the wall, running a hand through her tangled hair as she tried to shake off the last remnants of the vision. She had a mission to focus on. There was work to do. But as she stepped out of her quarters and into the bright light of the Resistance base, she couldn’t help but feel that the past wasn’t done with her yet...
The Resistance war room crackled with a palpable tension, the dim glow of the holo-table casting long, sharp shadows across the grim faces gathered around it. Poe stood at the head of the table, his posture taut, his voice slicing through the oppressive silence as he laid out his plan. In the center of the table, a hologram of the First Order remnant base hovered, rotating slowly, each revolution marking the passage of crucial time.
“We strike from orbit,” Poe declared, his voice resolute. “Targeted bombardment. We’ll wipe out their stronghold before they have a chance to regroup. It’s the quickest way to end this.”
Across from him, Rey stood with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her jaw clenched. Her brow furrowed as she stared down at the hologram, a storm brewing behind her eyes. “An orbital strike?” she asked, her voice low and measured but thick with disbelief. “You’d kill everyone down there. Innocents included. We’d be no better than the First Order.”
Poe’s face hardened, frustration tightening the lines around his eyes. His gaze, usually warm with camaraderie, now held the weight of battle fatigue, of too many hard choices made over too many months. “This isn’t about being better, Rey. It’s about survival. We’ve been at this for months, and if we don’t take them out now, we risk them rallying and coming back stronger.”
Rey’s heart pounded as she stepped closer to the holo-table, her voice rising, sharper now. “There are civilians down there—refugees who were forced into that arena, made to serve the First Order. We could infiltrate, disable their defenses, and get them out. But you’re talking about slaughtering people who have no choice. You’re willing to sacrifice them because it’s easier for us?”
His hand slammed onto the table with a resounding thud, the sound punctuating the rising tension. “Slaughter?” he echoed, incredulity lacing his voice. “This is war, Rey! Sometimes we don’t have time for careful plans and noble ideals. We’ve lost people to get this intel, people who trusted us to act. We need to hit them now, before more lives are lost.”
Rey stared at him, her face twisted in disbelief, her voice cold as it cut through the air. “You’re really willing to kill innocent people to win this? What happened to you, Poe?”
His patience frayed, and the anger he’d been holding in check boiled over. “What happened to me? What happened to you, Rey?” His voice rose, filled with a frustration he could no longer contain. “I’ve been out here leading these missions, losing friends, watching people die, while you’ve been—” He stopped himself, but the damage was done.
The air in the room seemed to freeze, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Rey’s eyes locked onto his, her expression hardening as an icy calm settled over her. “While I’ve been what, Poe?” Her voice was dangerously quiet, a sharp edge that demanded an answer. “Go on. Say it.”
Finn, standing nearby, shifted uncomfortably, sensing the argument spiraling out of control. “Hey, come on, guys—let’s just take a second—”
“No, Finn,” Rey snapped, her gaze never leaving Poe. “He has something to say, and I want to hear it. Finish that sentence.”
Poe’s face twisted with regret, the weight of his words pressing down on him, but his frustration surged again, pushing past his better judgment. “You’ve been out there grieving. For him.”
Rey’s entire body went still, her muscles tightening as though she had been struck. Her face remained unreadable, but the hurt in her eyes was unmistakable. “Grieving? For him?” Her voice was calm, but the storm behind it was palpable, barely restrained.
Poe, realizing what he had unleashed, tried to backpedal, but the words poured out. “We all lost people, Rey. But while the rest of us have been fighting—here—you’ve been out there, chasing ghosts. Grieving for the enemy. For Kylo Ren.”
The silence that followed was suffocating, the weight of it pressing down on everyone in the room. Rey’s voice, when it finally came, was a low, controlled fury. “Is that what you think? That I’ve been mourning Kylo?”
Finn, sensing the deepening chasm between them, tried again. “Poe, come on—this isn’t—”
But Rey cut him off, her voice rising with raw emotion. “You think I’ve been out there grieving for the person who caused all this pain? You really believe I abandoned the Resistance for him?” She stepped closer to Poe, her eyes blazing with a fury that made the air around them feel charged. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been carrying? What I see every night when I close my eyes?”
Poe’s anger faltered, replaced by a dawning regret, but Rey was too far gone now, the dam of her emotions finally breaking. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to carry the legacy of the Jedi, to be the last hope in a galaxy that keeps tearing itself apart. But I’m still here. I’ve fought every day, just like you. Don’t you dare tell me I’ve abandoned the fight.”
Her words hit him like a physical blow, guilt rising to the surface as Poe shook his head, the fire in him dimming. “Rey, I didn’t mean—”
“No,” Rey interrupted, her voice trembling with anger, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “You meant it. You think I’ve been chasing after him, that I’m weak because I tried to save a soul that was already lost. But I didn’t grieve for Kylo Ren. I grieved for Ben. The man who traded his life for mine!”
The room was deathly quiet now, the weight of her words hanging between them like a physical presence. Poe opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. Finn stood frozen, his hand half-raised, unsure of what to do.
Rey’s voice softened, the fury in her ebbing away, replaced by a profound sadness. “I’ve carried the weight of the galaxy on my shoulders. And I’ll keep fighting. But don’t you ever question my loyalty again.”
With that, she turned on her heel, her boots echoing sharply against the cold metal floor as she stormed out, the door hissing shut behind her. The silence that followed was suffocating, the echoes of her words still hanging in the air.
Finn finally exhaled, shaking his head slowly. He turned to Poe, his voice quiet but firm. “That was too far, man. She’s been through more than any of us can understand.”
Poe looked down at the holo-table, the guilt now fully overtaking him. “I know,” he muttered, his voice rough with regret. “I just… I need her here, Finn. I need her with us. Not out there, haunted by…”
“Haunted by what?” Finn asked, his voice gentler now.
Poe shook his head, unable to find the words. “I don’t know. But if we’re going to win this, we need her here. Not lost in the past.”
Finn nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on the door Rey had stormed through. “Maybe next time,” he said softly, “you should try telling her that. Before you say something you can’t take back.”
Rey hunched over the exposed wires in the Millennium Falcon’s engine room, her hands trembling slightly as she worked to untangle the mess. The soft hum of the ship was a steady, familiar sound in the otherwise oppressive silence, the only thing grounding her as she tried to drown out everything else—the war, the pain, the ghosts of her past. The dim light from a nearby panel illuminated her face, casting deep shadows under her eyes, revealing just how exhausted she truly was.
She barely registered the sound of approaching footsteps, muffled at first but growing louder with each step. Finn entered quietly, his face a picture of concern, though the weight of it hung on him like a cloak. He stood at the doorway for a moment, watching her, unsure how to break the invisible barrier between them.
“Hey, Rey,” he said softly, his voice hesitant, like he was afraid his words might shatter her.
Rey didn’t look up, her fingers continuing their mechanical work. “Finn,” she acknowledged, her voice distant, detached. The warmth that had once filled her tone seemed a distant memory.
Finn lingered by the door, shifting uncomfortably. He hated this—hated seeing her like this. “You didn’t have to leave the meeting,” he said, his voice gentle but insistent. “Poe’s under pressure, we all are, but he doesn’t want innocents to die. We can talk to him—together.”
Her hands didn’t falter, her attention locked on the wires as if they were the only thing in the galaxy that mattered. “I’ve got work to do,” she said curtly, the finality in her voice closing the conversation before it could even start. “I’ll fix this and be ready for the next mission. Don’t worry.”
Finn stepped forward, his heart sinking with every word. “Rey…” His throat tightened, but he forced himself to speak. “You’ve been like this for months. Distant. Shut off from everything and everyone.” His voice wavered, the emotion breaking through. “I don’t even recognize you anymore.”
Her hands stilled for a fraction of a second, but she didn’t respond.
Finn pressed on, desperation creeping into his voice. “Remember when we used to train? You’d kick my ass every time, and I’d still come back for more. You were always patient with me, always laughing at my mistakes, my stupid jokes.” He tried to force a smile, tried to bring some light into the room. “I almost chopped my leg off last time, remember?”
But Rey remained silent, her movements stiff, her face a mask of unspoken grief. The joke fell flat, the weight of the silence between them unbearable.
“I miss that, Rey. I miss you,” Finn said, his voice cracking as the words tumbled out. “The one who cared. The one who fought for hope, for people. You’re not alone in this, but it feels like you’re trying to be.”
Rey’s jaw tightened, her fingers gripping the wires a little too tightly. Still, she said nothing, her silence louder than any argument.
Finn’s shoulders slumped, the ache in his chest growing as he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You think I don’t know you’re hurting? I know losing Ben—losing him—hurt more than you let on. But you can’t keep carrying this alone. You’re breaking, Rey. And I can’t just stand here and watch it happen.”
For a split second, her hands stilled again, the wires slipping from her grip. The tension in her body radiated through the room, the grief she was holding back so tangible it felt like the walls were closing in. She wanted to respond, to scream, to let it all out, but she couldn’t—she wouldn’t.
Finn’s voice softened further, barely above a whisper now, raw with emotion. “If you’re going to remember him, remember Ben. Not Kylo. Remember the man you believed in, the man you saw behind all the darkness. But don’t let that destroy you. Don’t push me away, don’t push all of us away.”
His words hung in the air, pleading, aching for her to let him in, but Rey stayed hunched over the wires, the silence between them growing colder.
Finn stood there for a long moment, waiting—hoping for something, anything. But nothing came. Finally, he let out a long sigh, his voice breaking as he turned to leave. “I miss you, Rey. I really do.”
His footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing fainter with each step until the silence enveloped her once more. Rey’s fingers hovered over the wires, her chest tightening with every breath. The hum of the Falcon seemed louder now, almost deafening in the emptiness.
And then, for the first time in what felt like ages, she stopped. She froze, the weight of everything she’d been trying to suppress crashing down on her all at once. She could feel it—the grief, the anger, the crushing guilt she carried for Ben, for the war, for everything that had gone wrong. It sat like a stone in her chest, suffocating her.
A single tear slipped down her cheek, though she quickly wiped it away, her expression hardening. She couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not now. Not when there was still so much left to fight for.
With a deep, shaky breath, Rey forced herself back to the task at hand, burying the pain as deep as it would go. The wires were just a distraction, something to keep her hands busy, her mind focused on anything but the growing storm inside her.
But even as she worked, the silence lingered, and in that silence, the weight of her unspoken grief pressed down heavier than ever...
Rey lay motionless on her bed, staring up at the ceiling of her small, dimly lit room. Shadows danced on the walls, cast by the faint glow filtering through the blinds, but they offered little comfort. Her mind was a whirlwind of chaos, her thoughts refusing to settle as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force herself into the oblivion of sleep. It was useless. Each time she came close, her racing thoughts yanked her back, dragging her into the same gnawing unrest that had plagued her for weeks.
She tossed onto her side, then back again, the sheets tangling around her legs like the thoughts in her mind, wrapping tighter with each passing second. Frustration welled up in her chest, rising like a tidal wave. Her breath hitched as she threw the blankets off, the motion abrupt, as though she could physically shake off the weight pressing down on her.
Her heart wasn’t racing from exhaustion. It was something deeper, more primal—an ache that had been festering inside her since the day she left Exegol. A pull, like gravity, tugging at her, relentless and insistent.
Her gaze shifted, drawn almost unconsciously to the far corner of the room. There, tucked away in a small, locked box, was the source of her unrest—Kylo Ren’s lightsaber. Ben’s lightsaber. The one she had taken as a reminder, as a symbol of everything she had lost and everything she could not understand.
Its presence was suffocating, even from a distance, like a shadow that refused to fade. For a long moment, Rey sat frozen, staring at the box, her pulse quickening. She could feel it, not just in the room but deep within her, gnawing at her resolve, whispering to her in the silence of the night.
Her body moved before her mind caught up, legs swinging over the side of the bed as her bare feet touched the cold floor. Each step toward the box was heavy, as though the weight of the galaxy pressed down on her shoulders. Her breath came faster, her heart pounding in her chest as she knelt in front of the box.
Her fingers trembled as they reached for the latch, hesitating for only a second before snapping it open. The creak of the box lid echoed through the stillness, and there, nestled inside, was the sleek, dark weapon that had once belonged to the man she had both loved and hated.
Kylo Ren’s lightsaber. The weapon of the man who had been Ben Solo, now corrupted, twisted by the darkness that had consumed him. Rey’s hand hovered over it, her chest tightening as memories—his memories—flooded her mind.
With a deep, shaky breath, she wrapped her fingers around the cold, jagged hilt. The moment her skin made contact, a surge of energy raced up her arm, freezing her in place as her vision blurred. She was no longer in her room.
She was standing with him.
Ben, not Kylo. His face contorted in pain and fury, standing before the blue crystal that had once powered his Jedi lightsaber. His jaw clenched, his eyes dark and tormented. He held the crystal in his hand, knuckles white with the force of his grip, and Rey could feel the seething rage that coursed through him.
She watched, helpless, as the crystal bled under his touch. The blue dissolved into a violent red, twisted and burning with the dark energy he had embraced. Rey’s breath caught in her throat as she felt the searing heat, the overwhelming rush of the dark side flooding through the crystal and into Ben. His desperation, his need for control, for power, slammed into her like a tidal wave. It was suffocating, unbearable. She could feel the way it had torn him apart, piece by piece.
Rey gasped as the vision released her, snapping back into the present. Her fingers still clutched the saber’s hilt, but now it felt different—cold, hollow, a relic of something long gone. Her chest heaved as she stared at the weapon, her pulse pounding in her ears.
She couldn’t look away. Slowly, almost mechanically, she sank to the floor, her trembling fingers tracing the cracked, worn surface of the hilt. It felt like she was holding a piece of him—of the man Ben had been before the darkness consumed him. Without fully understanding why, she began to take it apart.
Piece by piece, she dismantled the saber with deliberate care, as if by doing so, she could strip away the layers of darkness, could unravel the torment and the pain that had bound Ben to the dark side. It was almost therapeutic, like undoing the threads of a long, twisted story. Her hands moved faster, more confident, as if they knew what she needed to do before her mind could catch up.
Then she reached the kyber crystal.
The deep, blood-red crystal lay in her palm, gleaming with the power it still held. It was beautiful in a way, but broken, just like the man who had wielded it. Rey stared at it, her heart heavy, her breath shallow. She could feel it—the pain, the loss, the choices that had led Ben down the path of Kylo Ren.
And then, without thinking, she did something she had never done before. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let herself connect with the Force.
At first, there was nothing. The room was still, the crystal cold and lifeless in her hand. But as she focused, as she poured her energy into it, the crystal began to hum. It pulsed faintly, almost imperceptibly, but the vibration coursed through her like a heartbeat.
Ben.
The moment she felt his presence, the dam broke. A flood of emotions and memories slammed into her with the force of a hurricane, knocking the breath from her lungs. She saw him—Ben—alone and tormented, struggling against the pull of the light, drowning in the darkness he had chosen. His anger at Luke, the betrayal that had shattered him, his desperate need for belonging.
Tears streamed down Rey’s face as she felt his pain, his loneliness. The weight of it crushed her, leaving her gasping for breath. She saw flashes of their time together—their fight in Snoke’s throne room, the way they had stood back to back, united for that brief, fleeting moment. The crystal was shaking in her hand - she could feel the cracks fading as she poured life force into it.
And then the vision shifted.
It wasn’t something she had lived. It was something new. She saw herself, standing close to Ben, their faces inches apart, their breath mingling. The tension between them was palpable, and then, suddenly, he kissed her.
It was more than just a kiss. It was everything—the pain, the longing, the love they had fought against and for. The weight of it nearly overwhelmed her. Her entire body trembled as she felt it, as real as if he were standing before her.
And then, just as quickly, the vision exploded into blinding light, leaving Rey breathless and trembling, the crystal glowing faintly in her hand...
Rey opened her eyes, her breath shallow and uneven. Everything around her was engulfed in pure white light, so bright and disorienting that for a moment, she wasn’t sure if she was still in her room or somewhere else entirely. The overwhelming stillness pressed in on her, the weight of it making her heart race. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, trying to grasp what had just happened.
Where was she?
She took a tentative step forward, her senses on edge, unsure of whether she was dreaming or trapped in some kind of Force vision. And then she heard it.
His voice.
“Rey.”
She froze, her entire body going rigid. That voice—she knew that voice.
Slowly, she turned around, her chest tightening with disbelief. Standing there, surrounded by the same white light, was Ben Solo. He wore the same clothes he had on the day of Exegol, his dark tunic and cloak soft against the brightness surrounding them. His expression was calm, but his eyes—the same eyes that had once looked at her with so much intensity—held a kind of softness, almost as if he were relieved to see her.
“Ben?” Rey whispered, her voice catching in her throat. She shook her head, not trusting her own senses. "No, no, this can't be real."
He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving hers. “It’s me.”
Rey’s hands balled into fists at her sides as the disbelief slowly morphed into something else. Her chest heaved with emotions she could no longer contain. The tears started to blur her vision, but she pushed them back, refusing to let them fall just yet.
“How—” she began, her voice trembling with both anger and sorrow. “How are you here?”
Ben didn’t answer, just stood there, watching her, as though he had been waiting for this moment. His presence was so calm, so solid. And that only made Rey’s emotions explode all at once.
Without thinking, she rushed toward him, her fist swinging out and colliding with his chest as hard as she could. She hit him again, and again, her body trembling with the weight of everything she had held inside.
“You left!” she yelled, each word punctuated with another punch to his chest. “You left me! After everything—after everything we went through, after everything you did, you just—”
Her voice cracked, her fists still pounding against him, but her blows were growing weaker as her emotions overwhelmed her. “I stood across from the Emperor, Ben, and I was fine. But you—” She hit him one more time, but this time her fist lingered against his chest, her tears finally breaking free. “You are what broke me.”
Ben stood still, his face a mixture of sorrow and understanding, and let her hit him, let her pour out everything she had been carrying. But as her anger began to give way to grief, Rey’s punches slowed, and soon her body was wracked with sobs. She dropped her hand, her fingers trembling, as the weight of his loss finally crashed down around her.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered through her tears, her voice shaking. “I can’t… You’re gone, and I’m here, and I miss you, and it’s not fair. None of this is fair.”
Her legs nearly gave out, but Ben caught her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close. Rey buried her face against his chest, the warmth of him, the familiarity of his scent—it felt so real, too real. Her body shook with every sob, her hands clutching at his tunic as if she were afraid he would disappear again if she let go.
For a long moment, there was nothing but silence between them. Ben held her, his chin resting atop her head, his hands steady and strong around her as she cried into him. It was the first time in months that she felt any semblance of peace, any sense of safety.
“I’m sorry,” Ben finally whispered, his voice so soft, so broken, that it nearly undid her all over again.
Rey pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes red and swollen from crying. “You left me,” she repeated, her voice barely more than a breath.
“I know,” Ben replied, his own eyes glistening with unspoken regret. “But I’m here now. I’m here.”
Rey wanted to hold on to that moment, to that impossible feeling of having him back. She wanted to believe that somehow, in this white void of light, they could stay like this forever, suspended in time. She closed her eyes, her tears still falling, but for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to be happy in the silence of his embrace.
For just a little while longer, Rey held on.
Rey pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against Ben's as she searched his eyes, still clouded with tears. The bright white light enveloped them, but the warmth of his presence anchored her, grounding her in the moment.
“Rey,” Ben said, his voice low and steady, breaking the silence between them. “What you did with the crystal… You bled it, but you also purified it. You’re cleansing the energy that was left behind, the shadows that clung to it. The Force has given us this moment—a last gift.”
Rey’s heart raced as she processed his words. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I just… felt it. It was overwhelming. I saw everything—the darkness, the pain, but also the light.”
Ben nodded, his gaze softening. “I know. You felt my struggle, the weight of my choices. But by reaching into that crystal, you’re not just connecting with my past; you’re transforming it. You’re healing the remnants of who I was, and in turn, you’re healing yourself. The darkness can’t hold you anymore.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she struggled to understand. “But I was afraid. I didn’t want to lose you. I thought... I thought I was bringing back the pain.”
He reached up, gently wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “You’re stronger than you realize, Rey. You faced the darkness within me, and you emerged with the light. I’m proud of you. You’ve always been so much more than you give yourself credit for.”
“I miss you so much,” Rey admitted, her voice trembling. “I thought I could find a way to bring you back—to change everything.”
“You can’t change the past,” Ben said softly. “But you can honor it. You can carry me with you, in everything you do. I’m still with you, Rey. The Force binds us, connects us. It’s in every step you take, every choice you make.”
Rey shook her head, her heart aching with a mix of sadness and hope. “But it hurts so much. Every day feels like I’m just... missing a part of myself.”
“That pain is a testament to how deeply you love,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “It means I was real. Our connection was real. And even in death, I will never let that connection fade.”
She searched his eyes, feeling the weight of his words as if they were a promise. “What if I can’t move on? What if I can’t be the person you believe I am?”
“You will,” Ben assured her, his grip tightening around her. “You’re on a path to greatness, Rey. Your journey doesn’t end with my absence; it’s just beginning. You have a light within you that the galaxy needs. You will inspire others the way you inspired me.”
She wanted to believe him, but how could she?
“Rey,” his voice steady yet filled with urgency. “You need to understand something important. You are meant to be the Jedi of Hope. The galaxy needs you now more than ever.”
“I don’t know if I can live up to that,” she replied, her voice trembling. “After everything we’ve lost…”
“You can,” he insisted, taking a step closer. “You must lead by example, Rey. Show everyone what it means to believe in the light, to bring hope to the darkest corners of the galaxy. You have the strength within you.”
As the brightness around them intensified, Rey felt a surge of warmth wash over her, filling the emptiness that had settled in her heart since he had gone. “I want to make you proud,” she said, her voice breaking. Ben Solo shook his head as he lifted her chin with his fingers and forced her to look him in the eyes.
“I want you to be the Jedi you knew I could be!” He replied, his eyes glimmering with a fierce light. “You have the strength to confront anything that comes your way. Carry me with you, Rey. Take my hope, and turn it into something extraordinary. The Force has given us this moment, so use it.”
Rey inhaled deeply, his words wrapping around her like a warm embrace. She could feel the weight of her grief start to lift, replaced by an understanding that transcended loss. The pain was still there, but so was the love, a love that connected them across the veil of life and death.
“Ben,” she whispered, her heart swelling. “I won’t let you down.”
Ben smiled, a soft, bittersweet expression that melted her heart. “I know you won’t. You are never alone, Rey. I will always be with you.”
And as the light began to dim, she felt the last remnants of their connection surging through her, a final pulse of energy. With a heavy heart and renewed strength, Rey held on to the warmth of his presence, ready to face the challenges ahead. The shadows no longer felt so daunting, and in their absence, she found a flicker of hope that she could carry into the future.
In that moment, she understood that love transcends all, and the bond they shared would never truly be broken. Rey let his presence in, a comforting bond that contrasted the ache in her heart. The light enveloping them pulsed with energy, and she could see the deep emotion in his eyes as they stood together in this ethereal space.
Her heart swelled with the weight of his words. “I promise I’ll try. I’ll rebuild the Jedi Order, and I’ll help restore the smiles that have been lost.” Tears brimmed in her eyes as she thought of the friends that she loved and lost.
“Don’t forget your friends,” he urged gently. “Embrace the support of those around you. You’re not alone in this. Together, you can heal the galaxy.”
As the brilliance of their surroundings began to dim, Rey felt a rush of desperation. “No, Ben! Please don’t go!” she cried, reaching out for him.
He looked at her, his expression a mixture of pride and sorrow. “It’s not goodbye. I’ll always be with you, in your heart and in the Force. Just remember that.”
“Ben,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I love you. I can’t believe you’re gone.”
His smile flickered, and he stepped closer, taking her hands in his. “I love you too, Rey. Always. You have to carry on. The galaxy needs you.”
As he began to fade, Rey felt a painful tug at her heart. “I will remember you,” she promised, tears streaming down her face. “I’ll make you proud. I’ll be the light the galaxy needs.”
“Be the hope, Rey,” he said, his voice echoing softly. “Lead them back to the light.”
And then, just as the last remnants of his presence began to dissolve into the radiant light, Rey felt a surge of energy wash over her, enveloping her completely. “Rey!”
Rey blinked awake, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her mind struggled to reconcile where she was. The room around her was familiar, the soft glow of the stars filtering through the small window. She lay on the floor, her body trembling from the remnants of a dream that felt more real than anything she’d ever experienced. Her heart pounded against her ribs, the echo of his voice still whispering in her ears, like a fading melody.
She pushed herself upright, her hands shaking as they pressed into the cool surface of the floor. A warmth, gentle but persistent, radiated through her chest, as though something within her had shifted. Her pulse quickened as she looked down, her fingers trembling as they unfurled.
There, resting in her palm, was a kyber crystal. Its glow was soft yet undeniable, the rich yellow light pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat. The crystal thrummed with life, as if it were breathing, as if it were alive in its own way. The warmth it exuded was both comforting and bittersweet, filling her with a mixture of hope and unbearable longing.
Tears welled in her eyes, unbidden, as the memory of Ben’s face flashed in her mind—his voice, the way his eyes softened when they met hers, the brief moment they had shared in the ethereal glow of the Force. She pressed the crystal against her chest, clutching it so tightly she could feel its steady pulse beneath her skin.
A sob tore from her throat, her voice cracking under the weight of the emotions that overwhelmed her. “I will honor you, Ben,” she whispered, her voice shaky but filled with resolve. The words felt like a promise, one that carried the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the crystal seep into her, filling the hollow spaces left by his absence. “I’ll carry your legacy with me.”
The sorrow within her was deep, a chasm that seemed to stretch endlessly, but intertwined with it was something new—a flicker of joy. The joy of having known him, of having fought alongside him, and of the love that still remained, even though he was gone. The tears that fell now were not just of loss, but of gratitude, of a love so profound that it transcended the pain. She would not forget. She would never forget.
With trembling hands, Rey rose to her feet, her legs shaky but growing steadier with each passing moment. The weight of the kyber crystal felt grounding, a symbol not just of what she had lost, but of the future she was tasked with shaping. She wrapped her fingers tightly around it, holding it close as if it were a lifeline. This crystal, this light, was more than just a memory of Ben—it was a beacon of hope, a reminder of the light she still carried, the light that would guide her, and others, through the darkest of times.
Her chest heaved with a deep breath, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she allowed herself to exhale. The weight of grief was still there, heavy and ever-present, but beneath it, there was something new—a quiet strength, a determination that had been ignited.
“I won’t forget what you taught me,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady, as if she were speaking directly to him once more. Her heart ached with the memory of his touch, his sacrifice, but she knew now that she would carry him with her, always. He would live on, not just in her memories but in every step she took, in every life she touched, in every corner of the galaxy where she spread the light he had helped her find.
As she stood, bathed in the glow of the yellow crystal, the room around her seemed to shift, the shadows retreating in the face of the light she now held. Rey’s shoulders straightened, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears, but her gaze was clear, focused. She was no longer just a scavenger, no longer just a lost soul trying to find her place in the galaxy. She was Rey, a Jedi, the one who would carry the hope forward.
With renewed resolve, she turned toward the window, the stars beyond twinkling like distant beacons, guiding her on the path ahead. The crystal’s light reflected off the glass, casting a soft glow that illuminated the room, filling it with warmth, with promise.
The galaxy needed her, and she would answer its call.
Ben’s spirit would live on in her, in the choices she made, in the lives she saved. She would be the light he believed she could be—the light that could guide a broken galaxy toward healing. And as Rey took her first step forward, the kyber crystal pulsing in her hand, she knew she was ready.
She was ready to embrace her destiny.
As Rey knelt in the soft sand of Tatooine, the twin suns setting behind her, she carefully buried Luke and Leia’s lightsabers beneath the surface. The gentle hum of the desert wind whispered around her, a faint echo of the Force that seemed to watch over her every move. She pressed her hands over the sand, sealing the final resting place of her masters’ legacy, and felt a sense of peace settle within her.
Standing up, Rey pulled her own newly constructed lightsaber from her belt. The hilt felt unfamiliar in her hand, yet it also carried a profound weight—both literal and symbolic. She ignited it.
The yellow blade sprang to life with a brilliant hum, casting its warm glow over the landscape. The light was not just bright—it was vibrant, pulsating with energy. But as Rey looked deeper into the blade, she could feel something more beneath its surface, something darker, more complex.
The kyber crystal within was one she had taken from Kylo Ren’s shattered lightsaber. She had bled it herself, purging it of the darkness that had consumed Ben Solo. Yet the crystal still held echoes of his struggle—his pain, his redemption, and his ultimate sacrifice. As the blade illuminated her face, Rey’s thoughts drifted to Ben. She could still feel him, faint and distant within the Force, but always present, like a shadow at the edge of her awareness.
This blade was different from the ones that had come before. It wasn’t simply a weapon of light, nor was it one of darkness. It was both. The yellow blade reflected the balance that Rey had come to understand—the balance between the light and the dark, hope and despair, shadows and clarity.
She realized in that moment that this lightsaber would carry Ben Solo’s legacy. Not the legacy of Kylo Ren, the Dark Side warrior, but of the man who had fought to find the light within himself, the man who had chosen to save her, and the galaxy, in the end.
“This is your legacy, Ben,” she whispered, her voice soft but resolute.
As the blade flickered slightly in her hand, she knew that it was more than a weapon. It was a symbol of the path she would now walk—the path of hope forged in the shadows of a broken past. Just as Ben had found his way back to the light, Rey would carry forward the balance he had died for. She would be the light in the darkness, the hope that rose from the shadow.
With a final glance at the twin suns sinking below the horizon, Rey deactivated the blade. The golden glow faded into the gathering dusk, leaving her standing alone, yet not truly alone. For in the quiet, in the stillness, she could feel the presence of those who had come before her—Luke, Leia, and Ben—guiding her forward.
And so, with her new saber at her side and a galaxy to protect, Rey walked away from the desert, ready to carry a blade of hope and shadows to the stars!